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!