What Slender Youth Perfused with Fresh Macassar

What slender youth perfused with fresh macassar
Wooes thee, O England, in St. Stephen's bower?
For whom unlockest thou the chest that holds thy dower?
Simple as ever! Is there a deluder
Thou hast not listen'd to, thou hast not changed,
Laughing at one and all o'er whom thy fancy ranged?
The last that won thee was not overhappy,
And people found him wavering like thyself:
The little man looks less now laid upon the shelf.
While the big waves against the rocks are breaking,
And small ones toss and tumble, fume and fret,
Along the sunny wall I have hung up my net.