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William Hogarth

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James Gillray

F

OUR statesmen here, all plac'd and pension'd sit,
Have drown'd all care, and murder'd patriot wit ;

Their bellies fill'd with wine, their chests with gold,
Squeez'd from a nation which they've bought and sold.
No conscience pricks; — no dread of public wrath; —
They rob like Orford, or an Earl of Bath !
A groaning nation breaks no silken ease,
And only study how l——d B——te to please,
Thus warm'd within the down of regal wing,
Whilst England mourns, her statesmen laugh and sing.
   O Britain's guardian, when wilt thou awake,
   And on such vipers deadly vengeance take.