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William Hogarth

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James Gillray

T

HIS heart of oak, who in the storm
   At the Havanna did perform

   Great feats, and shew'd his mettle ;
Is just arriv'd with thoughts elate,
And only dreams of being great,
   And boiling oft his kettle.

One hundred pounds th' Pay-master knew,
His part o'th' prize was justly due,
   But then, por tar must stay :
He did so, three long years and more,
The courtier still kept back the ore,
   And holds it to this day!

When dunn'd again, he acts the farce,
Th' exchequer's low — our money's scarce,
   And premiums hints at large:
My friend, quoth he, your time's not come;
Your impudence is troublesome ;
    Your debt I'll not discharge.

And now the tar six guineas owes,
But cannot pay them, so he goes
   To lobspound, where he lay
Until this honest heart of oak
With usage bad, and grief was broke,
Such game our rulers play !