A neighbour’s blessings, risks the few thou hast;—
That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal’d
Which ever lurks behind thy proffer’d shield;—
That faithless craft, which in thy hour of need,
Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed,
Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain’d,
Back to his masters, ready gagg’d and chain’d!
Worthy associate of that band of Kings,
That royal, rav’ning flock, whose vampire wings
O’er sleeping Europe treacherously brood,