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Tired out with happiness, the frogs
Sedition croaked through all their bogs; 10
And thus to Jove the restless race,
Made out their melancholy case.

“Famed, as we are, for faith and prayer, We merit sure peculiar care; But can we think great good was meant

us, When logs for Governors were sent us? "Which numbers crushed they fell upon, And caused great fear,-till one by one, As courage came, we boldly faced 'em, Then leaped upon 'em, and disgraced 'em!

A CRY TO BATTLE

J. M. SEWALL Ye see mankind the same in every age; Heroic fortitude, tyrannic rage, Boundless ambition, patriotic truth, And hoary treason, and untainted youth, Have deeply marked all periods and all

climes : The noblest virtues, and the blackest

crimes ! Britannia's daring sins and virtues both, Perhaps once marked the Vandal and the

Goth, And what now gleams with dawning ray

at home Once blazed in full-orbed ` majesty at

Rome. Did Cæsar, drunk with power, and

madly brave, Insatiate burn, his country to enslave? Did he for this lead forth a servile host, And spill the choicest blood that Rome

could boast?

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"We pray for peace, but wish confusion,
Then right or wrong, a-revolution !
Our hearts can never bend to obey;
Therefore no king-and more we'll pray.”

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Urged on by North and vengeance those

valiant champions came, Loud bellowing Tea and Treason, and

George was all on flame, Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels

still live on, And laugh at all their empty puffs, huzza

for Washington.

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Fired with the great idea, our Fathers'

shades would rise, To view the stern contențion, the gods

desert their skies; And Wolfe, 'midst hosts of heroes, supe

rior bending down, Cry out with eager transport, God save

great Washington. Should George, the choice of Britons, to

foreign realms apply, And madly arm half Europe, yet still we

would defy Turk. Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all

those powers in one, While Adams guides our senate, our camp

great Washington!

Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehen

sible! The blundering schemes of Britain their

folly, pride, and zeal,

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Should warlike weapons fail us, disdain

ing slavish fears, To swords we'll beat our ploughshares,

our pruning-hooks to spears, And rush, all desperate! on our foe, nor

breathe till battle won, Then shout, and shout America! and con

quering Washington!

Last year rebellion proudly stood,

Elate, in her meridian glory; But this shall quench her pride in blood

George will avenge each martyr'd Tory. Then bring us wine, full bumpers bring :

Hail this New Year in joyful chorus; God bless great George, our gracious king, And crush rebellion down before us. 'Tis New Year's morn; why should

we part? Why not enjoy what heaven has

sent us? Let wine expand the social heart, Let friends, and mirth, and wine

content us. Rivington's Royal Gasette, Jan. 2, 1779.

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Proud France should view with terror,

and haughty Spain revere, While every, warlike nation would court

alliance here; And George, his minions trembling round,

dismounting from his throne, Pay homage to America and glorious Washington.

From "Cato," 1778.

THE PRESENT AGE Of all the ages ever known,

The present is the oddest; For all the men are honest grown,

And all the women modest.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW:

A PROPHECY

J. ODELL (?) What though last year be past and gone, Why should we grieve or mourn about it? As good a year is now begun, And better, too,-let no one doubt it. 'Tis New Year's morn; why should

we part? Why not enjoy what heaven has

sent us? Let wine expand the social heart, Let friends, and mirth, and wine

content us.

Nor lawyers now are fond of fees,

Nor clergy of their dues, No idle people now one sees,

At church no empty pews. No courtiers now their friends deceive

With promises of favor; For what they made 'em once believe

Is done and done forever.

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War's rude alarms disturb'd last year;

Our country bled and wept around us; But this each honest heart shall cheer, II

And peace and plenty shall surround us. Last year saw many honest men Torn from each dear and sweet con

nection : But this shall see them home again,

And happy in their King's protection. Last year “King Congo" through the land, Display'd his thirteen stripes to fright

us; But George's power, in Clinton's hand,

In this New Year shall surely right us. Last year vain Frenchmen brav'd our

coasts, And baffled Howe, and scap'd from

Byron; But this shall bring their vanquish'd hosts

To crouch beneath the British lion. 20

Our nobles—Heaven defend us all!

I'll nothing say about 'em; For they are great and I'm but small,

So muse, jog on without 'em. Our gentry are a virtuous race,

Despising earthly treasures; Fond of true honor's noble chase,

And quite averse to pleasures. The ladies dress so plain indeed,

You'd think 'em Quakers all; Witness the wool-packs on their heads,

So comely and so small.
No tradesman now forsakes his shop,

For politics or news;
Or takes his dealer at a hop

Through interested views.
No soaking sot forsakes his spouse

For mugs of mantling nappy ;
Nor taverns tempt him from his house,

Where all are pleased and happy.

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What pains were taken to procure D'Es

taing! His fleet's dispers'd, and Congress may

go hang.

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Our frugal taste the State secures,

Whence then can woes begin? For luxury's turned out of doors,

And prudence taken in. From hence proceeds the abundant flow

Of plenty through the land;
Where all provisions, all men know,

Are cheap on every hand.
No pleasure-chaises fill the streets,

Nor crowd the roads on Sunday;
So horses, ambling through the week,

Obtain a respite one day.
All gaming, tricking, swearing, lying,

Is grown quite out of fashion ;
For modern youth's so self-denying

It flies all lawless passion.
Happy the nation thus endowed !

So void of wants and crimes;
Where all are rich and none are proud,

Oh! these are glorious times.
Your characters (with wondering stare

Cries Tom) are mighty high, sir;
But pray forgive me, if I swear,

I think they're all a lie, sir.
Ha! think you so, my honest clown?

Then take another light on't;
Just turn the picture upside down,
I fear you'll see the right on't.

The Freeman's Journal or the New Hampshire Gasette, 1779.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jold! Heav'ns King sends forth the hurricane

and strips Of all their glory the perfidious ships. His Ministers of Wrath the storm direct: Nor can the Prince of Air his French pro

tect, St. George, St. David show'd themselves

true hearts; St. Andrew and St. Patrick topp'd their

parts. With right Eolian puffs the wind they

blew; Crack went the masts; the sails to shivers

flew. Such honest saints shall never be forgot: St. Dennis, and St. Tammany go rot.

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THE CONGRATULATION

JONATHAN ODELL Dii boni, boni quid porto.-TERENCE. Joy to Great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd ! In vain has [Franklin's) artifice been tried, And Louis swellid with treachery and

pride : Who reigns supreme in heav'n deception

spurns, And on the author's head the mischief

turns. 1 Written by Rev. Dr. Odell, on occasion of the failure of the great expectations entertained by the Americans from the presence in our waters of D’Estaing's fleet during the vears 1778 and 1779. This piece appears to have been very popular at the period, being printe New York in Rivington's Royal Gazette of Novemher 6th, 1779; and again in the Supplement of November 24th.---(WINTHROP SARGENT'S Note.)

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jol'd! Old Satan holds a council in mid-air; Hear the black Dragon furious rage and

swear-Are these the triumphs of my Gallic

friends? How will you ward this blow, my trusty

fiends? What remedy for this unlucky job? What art shall raise the spirits of the

mob? Fly swift, ye sure supporters of my realm, Ere this ill-news the rebels overwhelm. 30 Invent, say anything to make them mad; Tell them the King-No, Dev'ls are not

so bad; The dogs of Congress at the king let

loose; But ye, brave Dev'ls, avoid such mean

abuse.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jold! What thinks Sir Washington of this mis

chance; Blames he not those, who put their trust in France ?

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A broken reed comes pat into his mind : Egypt and France by rushes are defined. Basest of Kingdoms underneath the skies, Kingdoms that could not profit their al

lies. How could the tempest play him such a

prank? Blank is his prospect, and his visage

blank: Why from West Point his armies has he

brought? Can naught be done? sore sighs he at the

thought. Back to his mountains Washington may

trot: He take this city-yes, when Ice is hot.

The Lord, who taught our fingers how

to fight, For this denied to curb the tempest's

might: Our paper coin refus'd for flour we see, And lawyers will not take it for a fee. Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jol'd! What caus'd the French from Parker's

fleet to steal? They wanted thirty thousand casks of meal.

80 Where are they now-can mortal man

reply? Who finds them out must have a Lynx's

eye. Some place them in the ports of Chesa

peak: Others account them bound to Martin

ique; Some think to Boston they intend to go; And some suppose them in the deep be

low. One thing is certain, be they where they

will, They keep their triumph most exceeding

still. They have not even Pantagruel's luck, Who conquer'd two old women and a

duck.

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Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jol'd! Ah, poor militia of the Jersey state, Your hopes are bootless, you are come

too late, Your four hours plunder of New York is

fled, And grievous hunger haunts you in its

stead. Sorrow and sighing seize the Yankee race, When the brave Briton looks them in the

face: The brawny Hessian, the bold Refugee, Appear in arms, and lo! the rebels flee; Each in his bowels griping spankue feels; Each drops his haversack, and trusts his

heels. Scamp'ring and scouring o'er the fields

they run, And here you find a sword, and there a

gun.

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Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jol'd! How long shall the deluded people look For the French squadron moor'd at Sandy

Hook? Of all their hopes the comfort and the

stay, This vile deceit at length must pass away. What imposition can be thought on next, To cheer their partizans, with doubt per

plex'd ? Dollars on dollars heap'd up to the skies, Their value sinks the more, the more they

rise; Bank notes of bankrupts, struck without

a fund, Puff'd for a season, will at last be

shunn'd. Call forth invention, ye renown'd in guile; New falsehoods frame in matter, and in

style; Send some enormous fiction to the press; Again prepare the circular address;

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jol'd! The doleful tidings Philadelphia reach, And Duffield cries—The wicked make a

breach! Members of Congress in confusion meet, And with pale countenance each other

greet. -No comfort, brother?-Brother, none at

all, Fall'n is our tower: yea, broken down our

wall. Oh brother, things are at a dreadful

pass : Brother, we sinn’d in going to the Mass.

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