The man that doth an Elephant pursue
Whose capture gains a mighty price,
Amidst the chace, heeds not the barking crew,
Or lesser game of rats and mice.
On ocean's waste who chace the royal flag
Stop not to take the privateer;
Who mean to seize the steed, neglect the nag;
No squirrel-hunter kills a deer.
Reptile! your venom ever spits in vain —
To honour's coat no drop adheres:—
To court!— return to Britain's tyrant reign,
White-wash her king, and scowr her peers.
Some scheming knaves, that strut in courtly guise,
May vile abuse, through you, impart —
But they that on no Treasury lean, despise
Your venal pen — your canker'd heart.