WITH all superior cunning's mean disdain
Needs must you, wondrous Beaconsfield, behold
Britain who trusted you; needs must you hold
Your sides for laughing when you fight again
Your bloodless battles, thinking how in vain
Russia spent men and millions, and could not
Prevail to wipe out Europe's darkest blot
Because, forsooth, you chose it should remain.
Creator of an Empress ? rather say
Degrader of a queen, of England's queen !
Winner of Cypress ? Britain till this day
Had other means to win her victories.
Now, through your tricks, alas! she's lost her eyes,
And half our country too has blinded been!