I am no flatterer—you’ve supped full of flattery:
They say you like it too—’tis no great wonder.
He whose whole life has been assault and battery,
At last may get a little tired of thunder;
And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he
May like being praised for every lucky blunder,
Called “Saviour of the Nations”—not yet saved—
And “Europe’s Liberator”—still enslaved.