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COW-CHACE, IN THREE CANTOS, Published on Occasion of the REBEL General WAYNE's ATTACK OF THE REFUGEES BLOCK-HOUSE ON HUDSON'S RIVER, On FRIDAY the 21st of JULY, 1780.
NEW-YORK: PRINTED BY JAMES RIVINGTON, MDCCLXXX.
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COW-CHACE.
CANTO I.
ELIZABETH-TOWN,
August 1, 1780.
TO drive the kine, one summer's morn,
The TANNER took his way;
The Calf shall rue that is unborn
The jumbling of that day.
And
Wayne descending Steers shall know,
And tauntingly deride,
And call to mind in ev'ry low
The tanning of his hide.
Yet
Bergen Cows still ruminate
Unconscious in the stall,
What mighty means were used to get
And lose them after all.
[Page 4]
For many heroes bold and brave
From
New-Bridge and
Tapaan,
And those that drink
Passaick's wave,
And those that eat soupaan,
And sons of distant
Delaware,
And still remoter
Shannon,
And Major
Lee with horses rare,
And
Proctor with his cannon.
All wond'rous proud in arms they came,
What hero could refuse
To tread the rugged path to fame
Who had a pair of shoes?
At six the host, with sweating buss,
Arriv'd at Freedom's Pole,
When
Wayne, who thought he'd time enough,
Thus speechified the whole:
O ye whom glory doth unite,
Who freedom's cause espouse,
Whether the wing that's doom'd to fight,
Or that to drive the Cows,
[Page 5]
Ere yet you tempt your further way,
Or into action come,
Hear, soldiers, what I have to say,
And take a pint of rum;
Intemp'rate valour then will string
Each nervous arm the better,
So all the land shall IO sing,
And read the Gen'ral's letter.
Know that some paltry Refugees,
Whom I've a mind to fight,
Are playing H-ll among the trees
That grow on yonder height.
Their sort and block-houses we'll level,
And deal a horrid slaughter;
We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil,
And ravish wife and daughter.
I, under cover of th' attack,
Whilst you are all at blows,
From
English Neighb'rood and
[...]
Will drive away the Cows:
[Page 6]
For well you know the latter is
The serious operation,
And fighting with the Refugees
Is only demonstration.
His daring words from all the crowd
Such great applause did gain,
That every man declar'd aloud
For serious work with
Wayne.
Then from the cask of rum once more
They took a heady gill,
When one and all they loudly swore
They'd fight upon the hill.
But here—the Muse has not a strain
Befitting such great deeds,—
Huzza, they cried, Huzza for
Wayne,
And shouting—did their
needs.
End of Canto I.
[Page 7]
CANTO II.
NEAR his meridian pomp the sun
Had journey'd from the hor'zon,
When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on
Of heroes drunk as poison.
The sounds confus'd of boasting oaths
Re-echoed through the wood,
Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's cloathes,
And some to swim in blood.
At
Irvine's nod 'twas fine to see
The left prepare to fight.
The while the drovers,
Wayne and
Lee,
Drew off upon the right.
Which
Irvine 'twas Fame don't relate,
Nor can the Muse assist her,
Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat,
Or he that gives a clyster.
[Page 8]
For greatly one was signaliz'd
That fought at
Chesnut-Hill,
And
Canada immortaliz'd
The Vender of the Pill.
Yet the attendance upon
Proctor
They both might have to boast of;
For there was business for the Doctor,
And hats to be disposed of.
Let none uncandidly infer,
That
Stirling wanted spunk,
The self-made Peer had sure been there,
But that the Peer was drunk.
But turn we to the
Hudson's banks,
Where stood the modest train,
With purpose firm, tho' slender ranks,
Nor car'd a pin for
Wayne.
For them the unrelenting hand
Of Rebel fury drove,
And tore from ev'ry genial band,
Of friendship and of love.
[Page 9]
And some within a dungeon's gloom,
By mock tribunals laid,
Had waited long a cruel doom,
Impending o'er their heads.
Here one bewails a brother's fate,
There one a sire demands,
Cut off alas! before their date
By ignominious hands.
And silver'd grandsires here appear'd,
In deep distress serene,
Of reverend manners that declar'd
The better days they'd seen.
Oh curs'd Rebellion, these are thine,
Thine are these tales of woe,
Shall at thy dire insatiate shrine
Blood never cease to flow?
And now the foe began to lead
His forces to th'attack;
Balls whistling unto balls succeed,
And make the block-house crack.
[Page 10]
No shot could pass, if you will take
The Gen'ral's word for true;
But 'tis a d—ble mistake,
For ev'ry shot went through.
The firmer as the Rebels press'd
The loyal heroes stand;
Virtue had nerv'd each honest breast,
And industry each hand.
"In
(1) Valour's phrenzy,
Hamilton
"Rode like a soldier big,
"And Secretary
Harrison,
"With pen stuck in his wig·"
"But least their Chieftain
Washington
"Should mourn them in the mumps,
(2)
"The fate of
Withrington to shun,
"They fought behind the stumps."
[Page 11]
But ah,
Thadaeus Posses, why
Should thy poor soul elope,
And why should
Titus Hooper die,
Ah die—without a rope!
Apostate
Murphy, thou to, whom
Fair
Shela ne'er was cruel,
In death, shalt hear her mourn thy doom,
Auch would you die my jewel?
Thee
Nathan Pumpkin I lament,
Of melancholy fate,
The Grey Goose stolen as he went.
In his heart's blood was wet.
Now as the fight was further fought,
And balls began to thicken,
The fray assum'd the Gen'ral's thought,
The colour of a licking.
Yet undismay'd the Chiefs command,
And to redeem the day,
Cry, SOLDIERS CHARGE! they hear, they stand,
They turn and run away.
End of Canto II.
[Page 12]
CANTO III.
NOT all delights the bloody spear,
Or horrid din of battle,
There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear
A word about the cattle.
The Chief whom we beheld of late,
Near
Schralenberg haranguing,
At
Yan Van Poop's unconscious sat
Of
Irvine's hearty banging,
Whilst valiant
Lee, with courage wild,
Most bravely did oppose
The tears of woman and of child,
Who begg'd he'd leave the cows.
But
Wayne, of sympathizing heart,
Required a relief
Not all the blessings could impart
Of battle or of beef▪
[Page 13]
For now a prey to female charms,
His soul took more delight in
A lovely
* HAMADRYAD's arms,
Than cow-driving or fighting:
A nymph, the REFUGEES had drove
Far from her native tree,
Just happen'd to he on the move,
When up came
Wayne and
Lee.
She in mad
Anthony's fierce eye
The hero saw pourtray'd,
And all in tears she took him by
—The bridle of his jade;
Hear, said the nymph, O great commander!
No human lamentations;
The trees you see them cutting yonder
Are all my near relation's,
[Page 14]
And I, forlorn! implore thine aid
To free the sacred grove;
So shall thy prowess be repaid
With an immortal's love.
Now some, to prove she was a goddess,
Said this enchanting Pair
Had late retired from the
Bodies,
†
In all the pomp of war;
That drums and merry fifes had play'd
To honour her retreat,
And
Cunningham himself convey'd
The lady thro' the street.
Great
Wayne, by soft compassion sway'd,
To no enquiry stoops,
But takes the fair afflicted maid
Right into
Yan Van Poop's.
[Page 15]
So
Roman Anthony, they say,
Disgrac'd th'imperial banner,
And for a gipsy lost a day,
Like
Anthony the TANNER.
The HAMADRYAD had but half
Receiv'd redress from
Wayne,
When drums and colours, cow and calf,
Came down the road amain.
All in a cloud of dust were seen
The sheep, the horse, the goat,
The gentle heifer, ass obscene,
The yearling and the shoat;
And pack-horses with fowls came by,
Befeather'd on each side,
Like PEGASUS, the horse that I
And other poets ride.
Sublime upon his stirrups rose
The mighty
Lee behind,
And drove the terror-smitten cows
Like chaff before the wind.
[Page 16]
But sudden see the woods above
Pour down another corps,
All helter skelter in a drove,
Like that I sung before.
Irvine and terror in the van
Came flying all abroad,
And cannon, colours, horse and man▪
Ran tumbling to the road.
Still as he fled, 'twas
Irvine's cry,
And his example too,
"Run on, my merry men all"—For why?
† The shot will not go thro'!
As when two kennels in the street,
Swell'd with a recent rain,
In gushing streams together meet,
And seek the neighbouring drain,
[Page 17]
So met these dung-born tribes in one,
As swift in their career,
And so to
Newbridge they ran on,—
But all the cows got clear.
Poor Parson
Caldwell, all in wonder,
Saw the returning train,
And mourn'd to
Wayne the lack of plunder,
For them to steal again:
For 'twas his right to seize the spoil and
To share with each commander,
As he had done at
Staten-Island,
With frost-bit
Alexander.
*
In his dismay the frantic priest
Began to grow prophetic,
You had swore, to see his lab'ring breast,
He'd taken an emetic.
I view a future day, said he.
Brighter than this day dark is,
And you shall see what you shall see,
Ha! ha! one pretty Marquis;
[Page 18]
And he shall come to
Paulus-Hook,
And great atchievements think on,
And make a bow and take a look,
Like SATAN over
Lincoln.
And all the land around shall glory
To see the
Frenchman caper,
And pretty
Susan
* tell the story
In the next
Chatham paper.
This solemn prophecy, of course,
Gave all much consolation,
Except to
Wayne, who lost his horse
Upon the great occasion.
His horse that carried all his prog,
His military speeches,
His corn-stalk whisky for his grog,
Blue stockings and brown breeches.
And now I've clos'd my epic strain,
I tremble as I shew it,
Lest this same warrio-drover,
Wayne,
Should ever catch the poet.
FINIS.
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Yankee Doodle's EXPEDITION to RHODE-ISLAND, WRITTEN at PHILADELPHIA.
FROM
Lewis Monsieur
Gerard came
To Congress in this town, Sir,
They bow'd to him, and he to them,
And then they all sat down, Sir,
CHORUS.
Yankee Doodle, &c.
Begar, said Monsieur, one grand
Coup
You shall
bientot behold, Sir.
This was believ'd as Gospel true,
And JONATHAN
felt bold, Sir.
So Yankee Doodle did forget
The sound of
British drum. Sir,
How oft it made him quake and sweat
In spite of Yankee Rum, Sir.
[Page 20]
He took his wallet on his back,
His rifle on his shoulder,
And
veow'd Rhode-Island to attack
Before he was much older.
In dread array their tatter'd crew
Advanc'd with colours spread Sir,
Their fifes play'd Yankee Doodle doo,
King
Hancock at their head Sir.
What numbers bravely cross'd the seas
I cannot well determine,
A swarm of Rebels and of fleas,
And every other vermin.
Their mighty hearts might shrink they tho't,
For all flesh only grass is,
A plenteous store they therefore brought
Of Whisky and Molasses.
They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak,
So did their
good Ally, Sir,
And take him prisoner in a week,
But that was all
my eye, Sir.
[Page 21]
As JONATHAN so much desir'd
To shine in martial story,
D'Estaing with politesse retir'd,
To leave him all the glory.
He left him what was better yet,
At least it was more use, Sir,
He left him for a quick retreat,
A very good excuse, Sir.
To stay, unless he rul'd the sea,
He thought would not be right, Sir,
And continental troops, said he,
On islands should not fight, Sir.
Another cause with these combin'd
To throw him in the dumps, Sir,
for CLINTON's name alarm'd his mind,
And made him stir his stumps, Sir.
Sing Yankee Doodle Doodle doo.
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ON THE AFFAIR BETWEEN THE REBEL GENERALS HOWE AND GADDESDEN, Written at Charlestown.
IT was on Mr.
Peroy's land,
At Squire
Rugeley's corner,
Great H and G met, sword in hand,
Upon a point of honour.
Yankee Doodle, doodle doo, &c.
G went before with Col'nel E
Together in a carriage,
On horseback followed H and P,
As if to steal a marriage.
On
chosen ground they now alight,
For battle duly harness'd,
A
shady place, and
out of
sight,
It shew'd they were in
earnest.
[Page 24]
They met, and in the usual way,
With hat in hand saluted,
Which was, no doubt, to shew how they
Like
Gentlemen disputed.
And then they both together made
This honest declaration,
That they came there—by
honor led,
But—not by
inclination.
That if they fought, 'twas not because
Of rancour, spite or passion,
But only to obey the laws
Of custom and of fashion.
The pistols then,
before their eyes,
Were fairly prim'd and loaded!
H wish'd, and so did G likewise,
The custom was exploded!
But as they now had gone so far
In such a
bloody business,
For action straight they both prepare
With—mutual forgiveness.
[Page 25]
But lest their courage should exceed
The bounds of moderation,
Between the seconds 'twas agreed
To fix them each a station.
The distance stepp'd by Colonel P,
'Twas only eight short paces,
Now, gentlemen, says Colonel P;
Be sure—to keep your places.
Quoth H to G—Sir, please to fire,
Quoth G—no, pray begin, Sir;
And, truly, one must needs admire
The temper they were in, Sir!
Well fire both at once, said he,
And so they both presented;
No answer was returned by G,
But silence, Sir, consented.
They
paus'd awhile, these gallant foes,
By turns politely grinning,
Till after many cons and pros,
H made a
brisk beginning.
[Page 26]
He miss'd his
mark, but not his
aim;
The shot was well directed;
It sav'd them both from
hurt and
shame;
What more could be expected!
Then G, to shew he meant no harm,
But hated jars and jangles,
His pistol fired, across his arm,
From H—almost angles.
H now was call'd upon by G
To fire another shot, Sir,
He
smil'd, and—"after this" quoth he,
"No, truly, I cannot, Sir."
Such honour did they both display,
They highly were commended;
And thus, in short, this gallant fray
Without mischance was ended.
No fresh dispute, we may suppose,
Will e'er by them be started,
For now the Chiefs, no longer foes,
Shook hands, and—so they parted.
Yankee doodle, doodle doo, &c.
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THE AMERICAN TIMES, A SATIRE, IN THREE PARTS. IN WHICH ARE DELINEATED The Characters of the Leaders of the American Rebellion.
AMONGST THE PRINCIPAL ARE
- FRANKLIN,
- LAURENS,
- ADAMS,
- HANCOCK,
- JAY,
- DUER,
- DUANE,
- WILSON,
- PULASKI,
- WITHERSPOON,
- REED,
- M'KEAN,
- WASHINGTON,
- ROBERDEAU,
- MORRIS,
- CHASE, &c.
BY CAMILLO QUERNO, POET-LAUREAT TO THE CONGRESS.
FACIT INDIGNATIO VERSUM.
JUVENAL.
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ADVERTISEMENT.
THE masters of Reason have decided, that when doctrines and practices have been fairly examined, and proved to be contrary to Truth, and injurious to Society, then and not before may Ridicule be lawfully employed in the service of Virtue.
This is exactly the case of the grand American Rebellion; it has been weighed in the balance, and found wanting: able writers have exposed its principles, its conduct, and its final aim. Reason has done her part, and therefore this is the legitimate moment for Satire.
Accordingly the following Piece is offered to the Public. What it is found to want of Genius, the Author cannot supply; what it may want of Correction, he hopes the candor of the Public will excuse on account of the fugitive nature of the subject: next year the publication would be too late; for in all probability there will then be no Congress existing.
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THE AMERICAN TIMES. PART I.
WHEN Faction, pois'nous as the scorpion's sting,
Insects the people and insults the King:
When foul Sedition skulks no more conceal'd,
But grasps the sword and rushes to the field;
When Justice, Law, and Truth are in disgrace,
And Treason, Fraud, and Murder fill their place;
Smarting beneath accumulated woes,
Shall we not dare the tyrants to expose?
We will, we must—tho' mighty Laurens frown,
Or Hancock with his rabble hunt us down;
Champions of virtue, we'll alike disdain
The guards of Washington, the lies of Payne;
And greatly bear, without one anxious throb,
The wrath of Congress, or its lords the mob.
[Page 32]
Bad are the Times, almost too bad to paint;
The whole head sickens, the whole heart is faint;
The state is rotten, rotten to the core,
'Tis all one bruize, one putrifying sore.
Here Anarchy before the gaping croud
Proclaims the people's majesty aloud;
There Folly runs with eagerness about,
And prompts the cheated populace to shout;
Here paper-dollars meagre Famine holds,
There votes of Congress Tyranny unfolds;
With doctrines strange in matter and in dress,
Here sounds the pulpit, and there groans the press;
Confusion blows her trump—and far and wide
The noise is heard—the plough is thrown aside;
The awl, the needle, and the shuttle drops;
Tools change to swords, and camps suceed to shops;
The doctor's glister-pipe, the lawyer's quill,
Transform'd to guns, retain the power to kill;
From garrets, cellars, rushing thro' the street,
The new-born statesmen in committee meet;
Legions of senators infest the land,
And mushroom generals thick as mushrooms stand.
Ye western climes, where youthful plenty smil'd,
Ye plains just rescued from the dreary wild,
Ye cities just emerging into fame,
Ye minds new ting'd with learning's sacred flame,
[Page 33]Ye people wondering at your swift increase,
Sons of united liberty and peace,
How are your glories in a moment fled?
See! Pity weeps, and honour hangs his head.
O! for some magic voice, some pow'rful spell,
To call the Furies from profoundest hell;
Arise, ye Fiends, from dark Cocytus' brink,
Soot all my paper, sulphurize my ink;
So with my theme the colours shall agree,
Brimstone and black the livery of Lee.
They come, they come!—convulsive heaves the ground,
Earth opens—Lo! they pour, they swarm around;
About me throng unnumber'd hideous shapes,
Infernal wolves, and bears, and hounds, and apes;
All Pandemonium stands reveal'd to sight;
Good monsters, give me leave, and let me write:
They will be notic'd—Memory set them down,
Tho' reason stand aghast, and order frown.
Whence, and what art thou, execrable form,
Rough as a bear, and roaring as a storm?
Ay, now I know thee—
* Livingston art thou—
Gall in thy heart, and malice on thy brow;
[Page 34]Coward, yet cruel—zealous, yet profane;
Havoc, and spoil, and ruin are thy gain:
Go, glut like Death thy vast unhide-bound maw,
Remorseless swallow liberty and law;
At one enormous stroke a nation slay,
But thou thyself shall perish with thy prey.
What Fiend is this of countenance acute,
More of the knave who seems, and less of brute;
Whose words are cutting like a show'r of hail,
And blasting as the mildew in the vale?
'Tis
† Jay—to him these characters belong;
Sure sense of right, with fix'd pursuit of wrong;
An outside keen, where malice makes abode,
Voice of a lark and venom of a toad;
Semblance of worth, not substance he puts on,
And Satan owns him for his darling son.
Flit not around me thus, pernicious elf,
Whose love of country terminates in self;
Back to the gloomy shades, detested sprite,
Mangler of rhet'ric, enemy of right;
Curs'd of thy father, sum of all that's base;
Thy sight is odious, and thy name is
* Chase.
[Page 35]
What spectre's that with eyes on earth intent,
Whose god is gold, whose glory cent. per cent;
Whose soul devoted to the love of gain,
Revolts from feelings noble or humane?
Let friends, let family, let country groan,
Despairing widows shriek, and orphans moan;
Turn'd to the centre, where his riches grow,
His eye regards not spectacles of woe;
Morris, look up—for so thy name we spell—
On earth
* Bob Morris—Mammon 'tis in hell.
Wretch, who hast meanly sold thy native land,
Tremble, thou wretch, for vengeance is at hand;
Soon shall thy treasures fly on eagle's wings,
And Conscience goad thee with her thousand stings.
Of head erect, and self-sufficient mien,
Another
† Morris presses to be seen;
Demons of vanity, you know him sure;
This is your pupil, this is Governour;
Some little knowledge, and some little sense,
More affectation far, and more pretence;
Such is the man—his tongue he never balks,
On all things talkable he boldly talks;
[Page 36]A specious orator of law he prates,
A pompous nothing mingles in debates;
Consummate impudence, sheer brass of soul,
Crowns every sentence, and completes the whole;
In other times unnotic'd he might drop,
These times can make a statesman of a sop.
Hail, Faction, wayward queen, whose charms retain
Such opposites—the sordid, and the vain;
Who jar in all things else in thee unite,
Robert the greedy, Governeur the light;
And if another contrast we display.
Still both are thine, the serious and the gay.
There is a man, all spirit, life, and ease,
Whose native humour never fails to please;
There is a man devout, reserv'd, austere,
Whose grave demeanor other men revere;
These, whom their various turns farbad to meet,
Have met in Congress in communion sweet;
There, mirth put off, and gravity resign'd▪
The two sworn brothers stand in treason join'd;
Iö triumphe, sing the dev'lish fiends,
Discordant natures whose seduction blends.
[Page 37]
But still the question agitates mankind,
Could
* Duer be over-reach'd, Duane be blind?
Thy spritely genius, Duer, couldst thou controul,
The flow of wit, the fallies of the soul,
Abandon every muse, and every grace,
For eminence amidst a savage race?
Couldst thou, Duane, give up thy favourite church,
And leave religion weeping in the lurch,
Bid truth and decent piety adieu,
For dire promotion o'er a godless crew?
In Jotham's famous apologue we read,
Not so the fruit-trees wiser far decreed;
Shall we, said they, our oil and wine desert,
Which decorate the face, and chear the heart,
Quit peace and plenty, elegance and ease,
To reign scrub monarchs over barren trees?
'Twere strange—but stranger honour to resign,
And govern, legion-like, the herd of swine.
What groupe of Wizards next salutes my eyes,
United comrades, quadruple allies?
† Bostonian Cooper, with his Hancock join'd,
Adams with Adams, one in heart and mind;
[Page 38]Sprung from the soil, where witches swarm'd of yore,
They come well skill'd in necromantic lore;
Intent on mischief, busily they toil,
The magic cauldron to prepare and boil;
Array'd in sable vests, and caps of fur,
With wands of ebony the mess they stir;
See! the smoke rises from the cursed drench,
And poisons all the air with horrid stench.
Celestial muse, I fear 'twill make thee hot,
To count the vile ingredients of the pot;
Dire incantations, words of death, they mix,
With noxious plants, and Water from the Styx;
Treason's rank flow'rs, ambition's swelling fruits,
Hypocrisy in seeds, and fraud in roots,
Bundles of lies fresh gather'd in their prime,
And stalks of calumny grown stale with time,
Handfuls of zeal's intoxicating leaves,
Riot in bunches, cruelty in sheaves,
Slices of cunning cut exceeding thin,
Kernels of malice, rotten cores of sin,
Branches of persecution, boughs of thrall,
And sprigs of superstition, dipt in gall,
[Page 39]Opium to lull, or madden all the throng,
And assa-soetida prosusely strong,
Milk from Tisiphone's infernal breast,
Herbs of all venom, drugs of every pest,
With minerals from the centre brought by Gnomes,
All seethe together till the furnace foams.
Was this the potion, this the draught design'd,
To cheat the croud, and fascinate mankind?
O void of reason they, who thus were caught;
O lost to virtue, who so cheap were bought;
O folly, which all folly sure transcends,
Such bungling sorc'rers to account as friends.
Yet tho' the frantic populace applaud,
'Tis satire's, part to stigmatize the fraud;
Exult, ye jugglers, in your lucky tricks,
Yet on your same the lasting brand we'll fix;
Cheat male and female, poison age and youth.
Still we'll pursue you with the goad of truth;
Whilst in mid-heav'n shines forth the golden flame,
Hancock and Adams shall be words of shame;
Whilst silver beams the face of night adorn,
Cooper of Boston shall be held in scorn.
Strike up hell's music, roar infernal drums,
Discharge the cannon—Lo! the warrior comes—
[Page 40]He comes not tame as on Ohio's banks,
But rampant at the head of ragged ranks,
Hunger and itch are with him—
*Gates and Wayne,
And all the lice of Egypt in his train;
Sure these are Falstaff's soldiers, poor and bare,
Or else the rotten regiments of Rag-fair;
Bid the French generals to their chief advance,
And grace his suite—O shame! they're fled to France.
Wilt thou, great chief of Freedom's lawless sons,
Great captain of the western Goths and Huns,
Wilt thou for once permit a private man
To parley with thee, and thy conduct scan?
At Reason's bar has Cataline been heard,
At Reason's bar e'en Cromwell has appear'd;
Successless, or successful, all must stand
At her tribunal with uplifted hand;
Severe, but just, the case she fairly states,
And fame or infamy her sentence waits.
Hear thy indictment, Washington, at large;
Attend and listen to the solemn charge:
Thou hast supported an atrocious cause
Against thy King, thy country, and the laws;
[Page 41]Committed perjury, encourag'd lies,
Forc'd conscience, broken the most sacred ties;
Myriads of wives and fathers at thy hand
Their slaughter'd husbands slaughter'd sons demand:
That pastures hear no more the lowing kine,
That towns are desolate all all is thine;
The frequent sacrilege that pain'd my sight,
The blasphemies my pen abhors to write.
Innumerable crimes on thee must fall,
For thou maintainest thou defendest all.
Wilt thou pretend that Britain is in fault?
In Reason's court a falsehood goes for nought.
Will it avail, with subterfuge refin'd
To say, such deeds are foreign to thy mind?
Wilt thou assert that generous and humane
Thy nature suffers at another's pain?
He who a band of ruffians keeps to kill,
Is he not guilty of the blood they spill?
Who guards
* M'Kean, and Joseph Reed the vile
Help'd he not murder Roberts and Carlisle?
So, who protects committees in the chair,
In all their shocking cruelties must share.
[Page 42]
What could, when half-way up the hill to fame,
Induce thee to go back, and link with shame?
Was it ambition, vanity, or spite,
That prompted thee with Congress to unite;
Or did all three within thy bosom roll,
"Thou heart of hero with a traitor's soul?"
Go, wretched author of thy country's grief,
Patron of villainy, of villains chief,
Seek with thy cursed crew the central gloom,
Ere Truth's avenging sword begin thy doom;
Or sudden vengeance of celestial dart
Precipitate thee with augmented smart.
O Poet, seated on the lofty throne,
Forgive the bard who makes thy words his own▪
Surpriz'd I trace in thy prophetic page,
The crimes, the follies of the present age;
Thy scenery, sayings, admirable man,
Pourtray our struggle with the dark Divan:
What Michael to the first arch-rebel said,
Would well rebuke the rebel army's head;
What Satan to th' angelic Prince replied,
Such are the words of Continental pride:
I swear by him, who rules the earth and sky,
The dread event shall equally apply;
That Clinton's warfare is the war of God,
And Washington shall feel the vengeful rod.
[Page]
THE AMERICAN TIMES. PART II.
WHY hast thou soar'd so high, ambitious Muse?
Descend in prudence, and contract thy views;
Not always generals offer to our aim,
By turns we must advert to meaner game.
Yet hard to rescue from oblivion's grasp,
The worthless beetle, and the noxious asp;
And full as hard to save for after-times
The names of men known only by their crimes;
Left to themselves they soon would be forgot,
But yet 'tis right that rogues should hang and rot.
Still, as we own, and as old saws relate,
Not always thrives the verse that haunts the great;
Of rulers in America, I deem,
Swift is the change, and flight is the esteem;
When
* Houston from Savannah fled of late,
Did any ask, who took his chair of state?
[Page 44]Let
† Henry quit, and Jefferson succeed,
Let
‡ Wharton's place (who cares, be fill'd by
[...]eed;
Who matters what of
‖ Stirling may become,
The quintessence of whisky, soul of rum?
Fractious till nine, quite gay at twelve o'clock,
From thence till bed-time stupid as a stock:
These are sad samples—but we'll cull our store;
Can liberality herself do more?
Turn out, black monsters, let us take our choice;
What dev'lish figure's this with dev'lish voice?
Oh! 'tis
* Pulaski—'tis a foreign chief;
On him we'll comment—be our comment brief:
What are his merits judges may dispute;
We'll solve the doubt, and praise him for a brute▪
[Page 45]
No quarter, is his motto—sweet and short;
Good Britons give him a severe retort:
As yet he 'scapes the shot deserv'd so well,
His nobler horse in Carolina fell;
He fears not in the field where heroes bleed,
He starts at nothing but a gen'rous deed,
Escap'd from Poland, where his murd'rous knife,
Tis said, was rais'd against his sov'reign's life;
Perhaps he scoffs with fashionable mirth
The notion of a God, who rules the earth:
Fool, not to see, that something more than lot,
Conducts the traitor to this destin'd spot;
Rank with congenial crimes, that call for blood,
Where justice soon must pour the purple flood;
A parricide with parricides to die,
And vindicate the pow'r that reigns on high.
Who is that phantom, silent, pale, and slow,
That looks the picture of dejected woe?
Art thou not
* Wilson?—ha! dost thou lament
Thy poison'd principles, thy days mis-spent?
[Page 46]Was it thy fatal faith that led thee wrong?
Yet hadst thou reason, and that reason strong;
Judgment was thine and in no common share,
That judgment cultur'd with assiduous care:
But all was fruitless; popular applause
Seduc'd thee to embrace an impious cause:
Now, or my mind deceives me, thou wouldst fain
Thy former duty former truth regain:
Like some rash boy, whom strong desire to lave,
Too daring tempts to trust the briny wave;
But soon borne out to distance from the strand,
He longs with ardour to retrieve the land:
In vain—the waves his weak endeavours spurn,
And rapid tides forbid him to return.
Room for a spectre of portentous show;
Make room, for triple-headed
*Roberdeau:
Churchman, dissenter, methodist appear,
Chairman, and congress man, and brigadier;
Cerberean barker at the Stygian ford;
Where is thy bible, say, and where thy sword?
Thy bible—that long since was wisely lost,
Because its maxims with thy practice cross'd;
Well, but thy weapon—was it lost in fight?
Hush, I remember—'twas to aid thy flight;
[Page 47]Of brass lead, leather, treble is thy shield,
And treble tremblings seize thee in the field;
Treble in office, and in faith thou art,
And nothing double in thee but thy heart.
Ye priests of Baal, from hot Tartarean stoves,
Approach with all the prophets of the groves,
Mess-mates of Jezebel's luxurious mess,
Come in the splendor of pontific dress;
Haste to attend your chief in solemn state,
Haste to attend on
* Witherspoon the great:
Ye lying spirits too, who brisk and bold
Appear'd before the throne divine of old,
For form not use augment his rev'rend train;
The sire of lies resides within his brain.
Scotland confess'd him sensible and shrewd,
Austere and rigid; many thought him good;
But turbulence of temper spoil'd the whole,
And show'd the movements of his inmost soul:
Disclos'd machinery loses of its force;
He felt the fact, and westward bent his course.
Princeton receiv'd him bright amidst his flaws,
And saw him labour in the good old cause;
[Page 48]Saw him promote the meritorious work,
The hate of Kings, and glory of the Kirk.
Excuse each reverend Caledonian seer,
Whose worth I own, whose learning I revere;
Your duty to the Prince who fills the throne,
Your liberal sentiments are fully known;
Here in these lands start up a spurious brood,
And boast themselves allied to you in blood;
Think it not hard their faults if I condemn;
'Tis not with you I combat, but with them.
Return we to the hero of our song:
Who now but he the darling of the throng▪
Known in the pulpit by seditious toils,
Grown into consequence by civil broils;
Three times he tried, and miserably fail'd,
To overset the laws—the fourth prevail'd:
Whether as tool he acted, or as guide,
Is yet a doubt; his conscience must decide;
Mean while unhappy Jersey mourns her thrall,
Ordain'd by vilest of the vile to fall;
To fall by Witherspoon—O name, the curse
Of sound religion, and disgrace of verse.
Member of Congress we must hail him next;
Come out of Babylon was now his text:
[Page 49]Fierce as the fiercest, foremost of the first,
He'd rail at Kings, with venom well-nigh burst▪
Not uniformly grand—for some bye end
To dirtiest acts of treason he'd descend;
I've known him seek the dungeon dark as night,
Imprison'd Tories to convert or fright;
Whilst to myself I've humm'd in dismal tune,
I'd rather be a dog than Witherspoon.
Be patient, reader—for the issue trust,
His day will come—remember Heav'n is just.
Yes, Heav'n is just—what then can they expect,
Who not impell'd by violence of sect,
Bred up in doctrines eminently pure,
Which loyalty instill, and peace ensure,
Yet idolize Rebellion's bleating calves,
Or meanly split their principles in halves:
Half priest, half presbyter, I mourn thee,
*White;
Half whig, half to y, Smith, canst thou be right?
O fools, to worship in forbidden ground,
O worse than rebels, who your mother wound!
What uproar now—what hideous monsters rush,
Whose recreant looks put honour to the blush;
[Page 50]Mixtures of pallid fear, and bloody rage,
Like Banquo's ghost tremendous on the stage;
These are from Georgia, from the southern sun,
Swift as Achilles, not to fight but run;
Their hides all reeking from the British lash—
Queer gen'rals—
* Moultrie, Lincoln, Elbert, Ash,
Bring up yon wretched solitary pair,
Mark'd with pride, malice, envy, rage, despair;
Why are you banish'd from your comrades, tell,
Will none endure your company in hell?
That all the Fiends avoid your sight is plain,
Infamous
† Reed, more infamous M'Kean.
Is this the order of your rank agreed;
Or is it base M'Kean, and baser Reed?
Go, shun'd of men, disown'd of devils, go,
And traverse desolate the realms of woe.
Ye pow'rs, what noise, what execrable yell,
How now,
§ Dick Peters, hast thou emptied hell;
[...]gions and shoals of all prodigious forms,
Loud as the rattling of a thousand storms,
[Page 51]Gorgons in look, and Caffres in address,
Dutch, yankies, yellow-wigs for audience press;
Wretches, whose acts the very French abhor,
Commissioners of loans, and boards of war,
Marine committees, commissaries, scribes,
Assemblies, councils, senatorial tribes,
Vain of their titles all attention claim,
Proud of dishonour, glorying in their shame:
Ask you the names of these egregious wights;
I could as soon recount Glendower's sprites;
Thick as musquitos, venomously keen;
Thicker than locusts, spoilers of the green;
Swarming like maggots, who the carcass scour
Of some poor ox, and as they crawl devour;
They'd mock the labour of a hundred pens:
"Back, owly-headed monsters, to your dens."
At length they're silenc'd—
* Laurens, thou draw near;
What I shall utter thou attentive hear;
I loath all conference with thy boist'rous clan;
But now with thee I'll argue as a man.
What could incite thee, Laurens, to rebel?
Thy soul thou wouldst not for a trifle sell;
[Page 52]'Twas not of pow'r the wild insatiate lust;
Mistaken as thou art, I deem thee just;
Saw'st thou thy King tyrannically rule?
Thou couldst not think it—thou art not a fool;
Thou wast no bankrupt, no enthusiast thou;
The clearness of thy fame e'en foes allow;
For months I watch'd thee with a jealous eye,
Yet could no turpitude of mind espy;
In private life I hold thee far from base;
Thy public conduct wears another face.
In thee a stern republican I view,
This of thy actions is the only clue:
Admit thy principles—I then demand,
Could these give right to desolate a land?
Could it be right with arbitrary will,
To fine, imprison, plunder, torture, kill!
Impose new oaths, make stubborn conscience yield,
And force out thousands to the bloody field?
Could it be right to do these monstrous things,
Because thy nature was averse to Kings?
Well, but a stern republican thou art;
Heav'n grant thee soon to meet with thy desert:
Thee, Laurens, foe to monarchy we call,
And thou, or legal government must fall:
[Page 53]Who wept for Cato, was not Cato's friend;
Who pitied Brutus, Brutus would offend;
So, Laurens, to conclude my grave harangue,
I would not pity tho' I saw thee hang.
Bless me! what formidable figure's this,
That interrupts my words with saucy hiss?
She seems at least a woman by her face,
With harlot smiles adorn'd and winning grace;
A glittering gorget on her breast she wears;
The shining silver two inscriptions bears;
Servant of Servants in a laurel wreath,
But Lord of Lords is written underneath:
A flowing robe that reaches to her heels,
From sight the foulness of her shape conceals;
She holds with poison'd darts a quiver stor'd,
Circean potions, and a flaming sword.
This is Democracy—the case is plain;
She comes attended by a motley train;
Addresses to the people some unfold,
Rods, scourges, fetters, axes, others hold;
The sorceress waves her magic wand about,
And models at her will the rabble rout;
Here Violence puts on a close disguise,
And Public Spirit's character belies;
[Page 54]The dress of Policy see Cunning steal,
And Persecution wear the coat of Zeal;
Hypocrisy Religion's garb assume,
Fraud Virtue strip, and figure in her room,
With other changes tedious to relate,
All emblematic of our present state.
She calls the nations—Lo! in crouds they sup
Intoxication from her golden cap:
Joy to my heart, and pleasure to my eye,
A chosen phalanx her attempts defy;
In rage she rises and her arrows throws;
O all ye saints and angels interpose:
Amazement!—every shaft is spent in vain;
The sons of Truth inviolate remain;
Invulnerable champions, sacred band,
Behind the shield of Loyalty they stand;
Unhurt, unsullied they maintain their ground,
And all the host of heav'n their praises sound.
Yet too, too many feel her baneful spell,
Bleed by her shafts, or by her venom swell;
The cruel plague assaults each vital part;
Arise some sage of Esculapian art;
Thee,
* Inglis, wise physician, thee I urge,
Direct the diet thou, prepare the purge▪
[Page 55]Thou to the bottom probe the dangerous sore,
And in the wound the friendly balsam pour;
Enough for me the caustic to apply,
Twinge the proud flesh, and draw the face awry;
Thou cure the parts which I have forc'd to feel;
I make the patient smart, but thou canst heal.
[Page]
THE AMERICAN TIMES. PART III.
WHEN the wise ruler of Glubdubdrib's isle
Had entertain'd Sir Gulliver awhile,
With various spectacles of ancient days,
Kings crown'd with gold, and poets deck'd with bays,
Sages with pupils, tyrants with their slaves,
Heroes and traitors, senators and knaves;
When each instructive lesson was express'd,
And the rich banquet had suffic'd the guest,
Then wav'd the great controuler of the dead
His magic ensign, and the vision fled.
Have we less pow'r o'er that infernal crew,
Which lately pass'd before us in review?
Our invocation summon'd up the pack;
Our potent word can headlong drive them back;
[Page 57]Ye coxcomb Congressmen, declaimers keen,
Brisk puppets of the Philadelphian scene;
Ye numerous chiefs, who can or cannot fight,
Ye curious scribes, who can or cannot write,
Ye lawyers, who for law confusion teach,
Ye preachers, who for gospel discord preach,
Statesmen, who rule as none e'er rul'd before,
Mark, I dismiss you to the Stygian shore;
Away fantastic, visionary throng;
Come, sober Reason, and direct the song.
But what can Reason in a world like this?
For one that plauds her, millions hate and hiss?
She shines 'tis true with ever-blooming charms,
Peace in her look, and pleasure in her arms,
But not a guinea has she to bestow,
And men avoid her as a mortal foe:
Who without wealth would take her for a bride?
*James Smith from childhood has her pow'r defied;
With, or without her, by the hour dispute;
'Tis said, that once on Burgoyne's strange affair,
She spake her mind, and made the Congress stare:
[Page 58]Perhaps with Laurens, did not Laurens sell
His virtue for a name, she'd love to dwell.
Amidst the war of words, the roar of lungs,
The barb'rous outcry of confederate tongues,
Seditious, busy, turbulent, and bold,
Votes to be bought, opinions to be sold,
What chance has Reason?—her soft voice in vain
May plead, lament, expostulate, complain:
With heav'n-born eloquence should angels speak,
Against the crisis Heav'n itself were weak;
Howl, all ye fiends, and all ye devils, bawl,
*Will. Henry Drayton shall outdo you all.
When civil madness first from man to man
In these devoted climes like wildfire ran;
There were who gave the moderating hint,
In conversation some, and some in print:
Wisely they spake, and what was their reward?
The tar, the rail, the prison▪ and the cord.
Ev'n now there are, who bright in Reason's dress
Watch the polluted Continental press,
Confront the lies which Congress sends abroad,
Expose the sophistry, detect the fraud,
[Page 59]Truth's genuine maxims forcibly display;
But knights of old, who wander'd thro' the world,
And fell destruction on enchanters hurl'd,
Slew fiery dragons, giants overcame,
And sav'd from ruin many a peerless dame,
Play'd not so deep, so desperate a stake,
As he who draws the pen for Virtue's sake.
For once the monster slain, the spell was broke,
And joy succeeded to the daring stroke;
The ladies bless'd their lovers with their charms,
And the knight rested from his feats of arms.
But error may not with such ease be quell'd;
She rallies fresh her force tho' oft repell'd;
Cut, hack'd and mangled, she denies to yield,
And strait returns with vigour to the field:
Champions of truth, our efforts are in vain;
Fast as we slay the foe revives again;
Vainly th' enchanted castle we surprize;
New monsters hiss, and new enchantments rise.
[Page 60]
Was
* Samuel Adams to become a ghost,
Another Adams would assume his post;
Was bustling Hancock number'd with the dead,
Another full as wise might raise his head;
What if the sands of Laurens now were run,
How should we miss him—has he not a son?
Or, what if Washington should close his scene,
Could none succeed him?—Is there not a Green?
Knave after knave as easy we could join,
As new emissions of the paper coin.
When it became the high United States
To send their envoys to Versailles' proud gates,
Were not three ministers produc'd at once,
Delicious group—fanatic, deist, dunce?
And what if
† Lee, and what if Silas fell,
Or what if
‡ Franklin should go down to hell,
Why should we grieve? the land, 'tis understood,
Can furnish hundreds equally as good.
When like a hill convuls'd, whose womb has nurs'd
Internal fires, the constitution burst,
[Page 61]What strange varieties we daily saw,
What prodigies of policy and law!
See in committees Ignorance preside,
Conventions met, and Folly was their guide;
Plan follow'd plan, first, second, and the third,
More barb'rous who can say, or more absurd;
With full consent poor Reason was dethron'd,
The mad-man govern'd, and the wise man groan'd:
But why blot paper with these idle schemes?
Or why enum'rate undigested dreams?
Expose an opal to the solar ray,
And mark the beams that momentary play;
See the gay stone in mimic robes array'd,
Glow in the red or in the purple fade,
In swift progression vary to the sight,
And run thro' all the different modes of light.
Go then, and count the colours as they rise;
Tell if thou canst the numbers of the dyes;
Each combination of the fluid mass;
Nor let the shifting of a sun-beam pass:
This once accomplish'd, thy sagacious pen
May note the phrenzies of impatient men,
The bands of faith, and loyalty who break,
And roam the fields of popular mistake.
[Page 62]
Truce with these flow'rs—the Times are out of joint▪
Hence trifling—come we closer to the point;
Some muse attendant on th'eternal King,
Truth's radiant mirror for my guidance bring;
I ask not now the thunder, and the fire;
The still small voice is all that I desire.
Stand forth Taxation—kindler of the flame;
Inexplicable question, doubtful claim;
Suppose the right in Britain to be clear;
Britain was mad to exercise it here:
Call it unjust, or, if you please, unwise;
The Colonies were mad in arms to rise;
Impolitic, and open to abuse,
How could it answer, what could it produce?
No need for furious demagogues to chase;
America was jealous, and was safe;
Secure she stood in national alarms,
And Madness only would have flown to arms;
Arms could not help the tribute, nor confound,
Self-slain it must have tumbled to the ground;
Impossible the scheme could e'er succeed;
Why lift the spear against a brittle reed?
But arm they would, ridiculously brave;
Good laughter spare me, I would fain be grave;
[Page 63]So arm they did—the knave led on the fool;
Good anger spare me, I would fain be cool:
Mixtures were seen amazing in their kind,
Extravagance with cruelty was join'd;
The presbyterian with the convict march'd,
The meeting-house was thinn'd, the gaol was search'd;
Servants were seiz'd, apprentices enroll'd;
Youth guarded not the boy, nor age the old;
Tag, rag, and bobtail issued on the foe,
Marshal'd by generals—Ewin, Roberdeau.
This was not Reason—this was wildest rage,
To make the land one military stage:
The strange resolve obtain'd the Lord knows how;
Which forc'd the farmer to forsake the plough;
Bade tradesmen mighty warriors to become,
And lawyers quit the parchment for the drum;
To fight they knew not why, they knew not what,
Was surely Madness—Reason it was not.
Next independence came, that German charm,
Of pow'r to save from violence and harm;
That curious olio, vile compounded dish,
Like salmagundy, neither flesh nor fish;
That brazen serpent, rais'd on Freedom's pole,
To render all who look upon it whole;
[Page 64]That half-dress'd idol of the western shore;
All rags behind, all elegance before;
That conj'rer, which conveys away your gold,
And gives you paper in its stead to hold.
Heav'ns, how my breast has swell'd with painful throb,
To view the phrenzy of the cheated mob;
True sons of liberty in flattering thought,
But real slaves to basest bondage brought;
Frantic as Bacchanals in ancient times,
They rush'd to perpetrate the worst of crimes;
Chas'd peace, chas'd order from each bless'd abode;
Whilst Reason stood abash'd, and folly crow'd.
Now, now erect the rich triumphal gate;
The French alliance comes in solemn state:
Hail to the master-piece of madness, hail;
The head of glory with a serpent's tail!
This seals, America, thy wretched doom;
Here, Liberty, survey thy destin'd tomb;
Behold the temple of tyrannic sway
Is now complete—ye deep-ton'd organs play;
Proclaim thro' all the land that Louis rules—
Worship your saint, ye giddy-headed fools.
Illustrious guardians of the laurel hill,
Excuse this warmth, these sallies of the quill;
[Page 65]I would be temp'rate, but severe disdain
Calls for the lash whene'er I check the rein;
I would be patient, but the teazing smart
Of insects makes the fiery courser start;
I wish'd for Reason in her calmest mood;
In vain—the cruel subject fires my blood.
When thro' the land the dogs of havock roar,
And the torn country bleeds in every pore,
'Tis hard to keep the sober line of thought;
The brain turns round with such ideas fraught;
Rage makes a weapon blunt as mine to pierce,
And indignation gathers in the verse.
More yet remains of sense, and honour stain'd;
Conventions broken, flags of truce detain'd;
A thousand foolish freaks my wrath provoke,
A thousand culprits ought to feel the stroke;
To treat of villains were exceeding hard,
And not to mention once thy name,
* Gerard:
But 'twere the work of Hercules to sweep
From the rank stable this enormous heap.
[Page 66]
Such are the times—Cease, useless Satire, cease!
Each moment dire barbarities increase;
Ev'n whilst I write a monster fierce and huge
Has fix'd his station in the land of Googe;
Virginian caitiff!
* Jefferson by name;
Perhaps from Jefferies sprung of rotten fame:
His savage letter all belief exceeds,
And Congress glories in his brutal deeds:
In the dark dungeon
† Hamilton is thrown,
The virtuous hero there disdains to groan;
There with his brave companions, faithful friends,
Th' approaching hour in silence he attends,
When with his council shall the wretch expire,
Or by the British, or celestial fire.
O! may that hour be soon!—for pity's sake,
Genius of Britain, from thy slumber wake;
Too long has Mercy spoke, but spoke in vain;
Let justice now in awful terror reign.
Am I deceiv'd, or see I in the east
Tenfold the radiance of the day increas'd?
Britannia's guardian angel greets my eye,
In all th'unclouded lustre of the sky:
[Page 67]
See his right hand a two-edg'd weapon wield,
The double cross shines brilliant on his shield:
Hear him, ye just, and in his words rejoice;
Ye hearts of rancour, tremble at his voice.
'Yet, yet a little, and the door of grace
'Must close for ever on an impious race:
'The sun that visits these unhappy climes,
'Is weary to behold incessant crimes:
'Angels appointed from the Throne Divine
'To guard the land their hopeless charge resign:
'No more their gentle pleadings interpose;
'Yet, yet a little, and the door shall close.
'Ungrateful country! by my arms secur'd,
'In thy behalf what have I not endur'd?
'When from my grasp the sceptre thou wouldst rend,
'From me, thy patron, thy protecting friend,
'Did I not check my thunder in mid-air,
'Far less inclin'd to punish than to spare?
'Have I not labour'd ceaseless to reclaim
'Thy frantic sons from misery and shame?
'With bounty carried to excess I strove
'Thy doubts, however causeless, to remove:
'As speaks a father to his only child,
'Amidst repeated provocations mild;
'So have I wish'd thy errors to forgive,
'And bid thee turn from wickedness and live.
[Page 68]
'For this thy malice, swelling like a flood,
'Has overpass'd all bounds, and foam'd with blood;
'Outrage has follow'd outrage, shocking sight!
'And streets have echoed, pulpits teem'd with spite:
'The raving calumny, the dirty lie,
'Treach'rous escape, assassination sly,
'All monstrous crimes, which fiends themselves reject,
'Within thy walls claim'd honour and respect:
'Whatever honest, peaceable, or pure,
'Dwelt in thy reach to feel thy hate was sure;
'The virtuous man was odious to the cause▪
'And he who sinn'd the most, gain'd most applause.
'At length the day of vengeance is at hand;
'Th'exterminating Angel takes his stand;
'Hear the last summons, rebels, and relent,
'Yet but a moment is there to repent:
'Lo! the great Searcher ready at the door,
'Who means decisively to purge his floor;
'Yes, the wise Sis
[...]er now prepares the fan
'To separate the meal from useless bran;
'Down to the centre from his burning ire,
'Ye foes of goodness and of truth, retire;
'And ye, who now lie humbled in the dust,
'Shall raise your heads, ye loyal, and ye just;
'Th' approving sentence of your Sov'
[...] gain,
'And shine refu
[...]gent as the starry train
[Page 69]
'Then, when eternal justice is appeas'd,
'When with due vengeance heav'n and earth are pleas'd,
'America, from dire pollution clear'd,
'Shall flourish yet again belov'd, rever'd;
'In duty's lap her growing sons be nurs'd,
'And her last days be happier than her first.'
THE END.