As some brave admiral, in former war, <br />Deprived of force, but pressed with courage still, <br />Two rival fleets appearing from afar, <br />Crawls to the top of an adjacent hill; <br /><br />From whence (with thoughts full of concern) he views <br />The wise and daring conduct of the fight, <br />And each bold action to his mind renews <br />His present glory, and his past delight; <br /><br />From his fierce eyes, flashes of rage he throws, <br />As from black clouds when lightning breaks away, <br />Transported, thinks himself amidst his foes, <br />And absent yet enjoys the bloody day; <br /><br />So when my days of impotence approach, <br />And I'm by pox and wine's unlucky chance, <br />Driven from the pleasing billows of debauch, <br />On the dull shore of lazy temperance, <br />My pains at last some respite shall afford, <br />Whilst I behold the battles you maintain, <br />When fleets of glasses sail about the board, <br />From whose broadsides volleys of wit shall rain.
