P— and Proteus

Chousing, cheating, chopping, changing,
Proteus round the world was ranging;
When a blast from Rumour came,
Reverberating C—'s name;
Fam'd afar for transformations,
Turns, trimming, tricks, tergiversations.

Proteus, piqu'd at the report,
Posted presently to court;
When, clapping on a Highland suit
To gain the countenance of B—,
He cring'd and sidled to the ring,
And made his bow unto—,
Then turning round and speaking loud,
He challeng'd C—from the crowd.
"My lord, if you're a man, turn out;
"With T—oft I've had a bout;
"And Charles could match me to a hair,
"In changing into bull and bear:
"The deuce is in't, if you can be
"A match for Proteus more than he!"
In Pharoah's presence thus, we're told,
Ev'n Israel's chiefs were brav'd of old,
When Aaron's rod, to crown the jest,
Gap'd, gulp'd, and swallow'd up the rest.

The ring was clear'd, and P—began,
In form and presence of a man;
Appearing in his pristine glory
A cornet, and a rory-tory;
Declar'd himself Britannia's bully,
And tweak'd the nose of German cully:
Then ceas'd at once from talking big,
And turn'd a worming, wheedling whig;
Clos'd with the r—l predilections
For German generals and connections;
Unsaid whate'er he said before,
And bore the form of man no more.

Through th' objects of the brute creation,
He next began his transformation:
By turns was hog, dog, cur and beagle,
A Russian bear, a Prussian eagle,
An English war-horse on full speed,
A prancing Hanoverian steed?
The British lion now he roar'd;
Now as a Smithfield bullock gor'd;
Now a Camelion changing colour;
A ravenous cormorant ne'er the fuller;
From beast to bird, to fish from fowl,
A bustard now, and now an owl;
A trout, expecting to be tickled;
A salmon, — pity 'twas not pickled!
And if he saw the—but smile,
Was strait a snivelling crocodile.

While thus he play'd at fast and loose,
A Fox had mark'd him for a goose;
When, lifted up, he took his flight,
A mere machine, a paper-kite!
Fast to whose tail was tied a taper,
In lantern, also made of paper.
Lord! how this change amus'd the—!
For who do ye think had got the string?
Ev'n B—, who guided, here and there,
This paste-board patriot in the air;
Blazing, a meteor in the skies,
Amazement to the vulgar eyes,
Of gaping gulls and credulous crowds,
Who see their favourite in the clouds,
And think by him to steer secure;
Their ministerial Cynosure!

But should he on our noddles fall,
God bless us! 'twere the devil and all!
For Proteus, struck with shame and wonder,
Owns his defeat and truckles under.