Jove peep'd thro' his moons, and examin'd their features,

And said, “By my truth, they are wonderful creatures,

"The beards are so long that encircle their throats,

That (unless they are Welchmen) I swear they are goats:

"But now, my dear, Juno, pray give me my mittens,

(These insects I am going to handle are Britons)

I'll draw up their isle with a finger and thumb,

As the doctor extracts an old tooth from the gum."

No art, no care escapes the busy lash; All have their dues and all are paid in cash

The eternal driver keeps a steady eye On a black herd, who would his vengeance fly,

But chained, imprisoned, on a burning soil,

For the mean avarice of a tyrant, toil! The lengthy cart-whip guards this monster's reign

And cracks, like pistols, from the fields of cane.

Ye powers! who formed these wretched tribes, relate,

What had they done, to merit such a fate!

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