Fixing brands of CAIN upon the sinning,
Bingeing up the Army and the Fleet;
Weary of dislodging Kings and Kaisers,
Wearier of his friends than of his foes,
Prompted by his medical advisers
He has wandered South to seek repose.

There to ease his cranial distension
He will lead the simple life, incog.,
Far from international dissension
Or upheavals of the under-dog;
Leaving all unread his weekly _Hansard_,
Studying only novels at his meals,
Leaving correspondence all unanswered,
Deaf to FOCH'S passionate appeals.

There, no longer rashly overtasking
Powers impaired by superhuman strain,
But amid exotic foliage basking,
He will rest his monumental brain,
Till refreshed, dæmonic and defiant,
Clad in dazzling amaranthine sheen,
He emerges like a godlike giant
Once again to dominate the scene.

There, recumbent in a chair with rockers,
Oft will he indulge in forty winks,
Or, attired in well-cut knickerbockers,
Decorate the landscape on the links;
Or, with arms upon his bosom folded,