A native sin each vigorous Frenchman hails,
Politely partial to his own Versailles.
There, toujours gai, he loves a looser rein;
His Miss, la Contesse, and his wine Champagne.
Britain, more generous, every vice provides,
That Europe ripens, and that Asia hides.
Th' enormous harvest to our ports consign'd
Loads every ship, and busies every wind.
Soon a vast group of follies croud the shore,
As soon they cloy. — Fly hence, and fetch-us more,
Quick spread th' impatient sail from pole to pole,
Ye zephyrs, waft her! and ye oceans, roll!