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1810.9
Bonaparte and Commerce
“Hafiz”
[Thomas Stott]
The Morning Post (November 20, 1810)
A Dialogue.
_____
BONAPARTE.
Who art thou with front so bold,
My imperial will opposing?
Caitiff? hast thou not been told,
I'm all ports against thee closing?[1]
Miscreant! think not to evade
My decrees and sov'reign pleasure!
War is now my only trade,
Terror my compulsive measure.[2]
COMMERCE.
Tyrant! I've been often told
Of thy rancour, fury, madness!
But to hear thee rage and scold,
Ne'er shall sink me into sadness.
Thunder then thy fierce decrees,
Be thy barbarous triumphs vaunted,
While BRITANNIA rules the seas,
Vandal! I remain undaunted.
BONAPARTE.
Death and hell! what do I hear!
Varlet! scoundrel! robber! ruffian!
Off!—or from my fist thine ear
Shall receive imperial cuffing.
Bring me faggots! bring me fire!
Coffee—sugar—broadcloth—fustian,
Piled in one commingled pyre,
I devote now to—combustion!
COMMERCE.
Burn away, my Bullyrock!
Burn away!—the goods are paid for—
Quick consumption of the stock,
Merchants know is good their trade for.
Yet I pity the poor slaves
Who must always pay the piper,
When thy fiery passion raves,
O thou most malicious viper!