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With lies, with nonsense, keep the people

drunk: For should they once reflect, your power

is sunk.

The fall of Congress prove the world's

relief; And deathless glory crown the godlike

Chief!

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jol'd!

150

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jold! The farce of empire will be finished soon, And each mock-monarch dwindle to a

loon, Mock-money and mock-states shall melt

away, And the mock-troops disband for want of

pay. Ev'n now decisive ruin is prepar'd, Ev'n now the heart of Huntington is

scar'd. Seen or unseen, on earth, above, below, All things conspire to give the final blow. Heav'n has ten thousand thunderbolts to

dart; From Hell, ten thousand livid flames will

start; Myriads of swords are ready for the

field; Myriads of lurking daggers are conceal'd; In injur'd bosoms dark revenge is nurst; Yet but a moment, and the storm shall

burst.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves caWhat now is left of Continental brags? Taxes unpaid, tho' payable in rags. What now remains of Continental force ? Battalions mould'ring: Waste without re

source. What rests there yet of Continental Sway? A ruin'd People ripe to disobey. Hate now of men, and soon to be the

Jest; Such is your fate, ye Monsters of the

West! Yet must on every face a smile be worn, While every breast with agony is torn. Hopeless yourselves, yet hope you must

impart, And comfort others with an aching heart. Ill fated they who, lost at home, must

boast Of help expected from a foreign coast : How wretched is their lot, to France and

Spain, Who look for succor, but who look in

vain.

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Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred

fold: The grand cajolers are themselves ca

jold! Courage, my boys; dismiss your chilling

fears : Attend to me, I'll put you in your geers. Come, I'll instruct you how to advertize Your missing friends, your hide-and-seek

Allies. O YES!—If any man alive will bring News of the squadron of the Christian

King: If any man will find out Count D'Estaing, With whose scrub actions both the Indies rang:

170 If any man will ascertain on oath What has become of Monsieur de la

Mothe: Whoever these important points explains, Congress will nobly pay him for his pains, Of pewter dollars, what both hands can

hold, A thimbleful of plate, a mite of gold; The lands of some big Tory he shall get, And start a famous Colonel en brevet;

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And last to honour him (we scorn to

bribe) We'll make him chief of the Oneida Tribe!

180 Rivington's Royal Gazette, Nov. 6, 1779.

THE AMERICAN TIMES

30

Here sounds the pulpit, and there groans

the press; Confusion blows her trump—and far and

wide The noise is heard—the plough is laid

aside; The awl, the needle, and the shuttle drops; Tools change to swords, and camps suc

ceed to shops; The doctor's glister-pipe, the lawyer's

quill, Transform'd to guns, retain their pow'r

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 mush

rooms 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, Ye people wondering at your swift in

crease Sons of united liberty and peace, How are your glories in a moment fled? See, Pity weeps, and Honour hangs its

head.

40

A Satire

IN THREE PARTS
Facit indignatis versum-JUVENAL,

BY CAMILLO QUERNO

(DR. JONATHAN ODELL) Chaplain to the Congress.

FROM Part I When Faction, pois'nous as the scorpion's

sting, Infects the people, and ir.sults the King; When foul Sedition skulks no more con

ceal'd, But grasps the sword and rushes to the

field; When Justice, Law and Truth are in dis

grace And Treason, Fraud and Murder fill their

place: Smarting beneath accumulated woes, Shall we not dare the tyrants to expose ? We will, we must-though 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

Paine, And greatly bear, without one anxious

throb, The wrath of Congress, or its lords the

mob. 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 putrefying sore. Here Anarchy before the gaping crowd Proclaims the people's majesty aloud; 20 There Folly runs with eagerness about, And prompt the cheated populace to

shout; Here paper-dollars meager Famine holds, There votes of Co ress Tyranny un

folds; With doctrines strange in matter and in

dress,

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Bid the French generals to their chief ad

vance,

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. 110

FROM PART III

And grace his suite, shame! they're

fled to France. Wilt thou, great chief of Freedom's law

less 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 Catiline been heard : At Reason's bar e'en Cromwell has ap

peared. Successless or successful, all must stand At her tribunal with uplifted hand 70 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; Committed perjury, encourag'd lies, Forced 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 pained my sight, The blasphemies my pen abhors to write, Innumerable crimes on thee must fallFor 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 hu

mane, 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 Car

lisle? Lo, who protects committees in the chair In all their shocking cruelties must share.

Stand forth, Taxation! kindler of the

fameInexplicable 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 colonists were mad in arms to rise : Impolitic, and open to abuse, How could it answer-what could it pro

duce? No need for furious demagogues to chafe, America was jealous, and was safe; Secure she stood in national alarms, And Madness only would have flown to

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arms.

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Arms could not help the tribute, nor con

found: Self-slain it must have tumbled to the

ground. Impossible the scheme should 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: So arm they did—the knave led on the

fool; Good anger, spare me; I would fain be cool:

1 30 Mixtures were seen amazing in their kind; Extravagance with cruelty was joined. The presbyterian with the convict march'd; The meeting-house was thinn'd, the gaol

was search'd : Servants were seiz'd, apprentices enrolld: Youth guarded not the boy, nor age the

old: Tag, rag and bobtail issued on the foe, Marshal'd by generals-Ewin, Roberdeau.

What could, when half-way up the hill to

fame, Induce thee to go back, and link with

shame?

This was not Reason-this was wildest

rage, To make the land one military stage:

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140

The strange resolve, obtain'd the Lord

knows how, Which forc'd the farmer to forsake the

plough; Bade tradesmen mighty warriors to be

come,

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.

I would be temperate, but severe disdain Calls for the lash whene'er I check the rein :

178 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.

1780.

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; 150 That brazen serpent, rais'd on Freedom's

pole, To render all who look'd upon it whole; That half-dressed idol of the western

shore All rags behind, all elegance before: That conj'ror, which conveys away your

gold, And gives you paper in its stead to hold.

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Heav'ns! how my breast has swell'd with

painful throb To view the phrenzy of the cheated mob: True sons of liberty in Aattering thought; But real slaves to basest bondage brought : Frantic as Bacchanals in ancient times, 161 They rush'd to perpetrate the worst of

crimes; Chas'd peace, chas'd order from each

bless'd abode; While 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 This 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

rulesWorship your saint, ye giddy-headed

fools,

The shoots of science rich and fair,
Transplanted from thy fostering isle
And by thy genius nurtur'd there,
Shall teach the wilderness to smile,
Shine, Britannia, rise and shine!
To bless mankind the task be thine.

171

Nor shall the Muses now disdain
To find a new asylum there:
And ripe for harvest see the plain,
Where lately rov'd the prowling bear.
Plume, Britannia, plume thy wing!
Teach the savage wild to sing !

Illustrious guardians of the laurel hill, Excuse this warmth, these sallies of the

quill:

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This high and holy strain how true
Had now from age to age been shown;
And to the world's admiring view
Rose freedom's transatlantic throne:
Here, Britannia, here thy fame
Long did we with joy proclaim.
But ah! what frenzy breaks a band
Of love and union held so dear!
Rebellion madly shakes the land,
And love is turn'd to hate and fear.
Here, Britannia, here at last
We feel contagion's deadly blast.

Though party-contention awhile may per

plex, And lenity hold us in doubtful suspense, If perfidy rouse, or ingratitude vex In defiance of hell we'll chastise the offence.

When danger alarms,

'Tis then that in arms United we rush on the foe with disdain;

And when the storm rages,

It only presages Fresh triumphs to Britons, as Lords of

the Main ! Lords of the Main-ay, Lords of the

MainLet Thunder proclaim it, we're Lords of

the Main !

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Then, Britons, strike home-make sure of

your blow: The chase is in view; never mind a lee

shore. With vengeance o'ertake the confederate

foe: 'Tis now we may rival our heroes of yore!

Brave Anson, and Drake,

Hawke, Russell, and Blake, 30 With ardour like yours, we defy France

and Spain !

Combining with treason,

They're deaf to all reason; Once more let them feel we are Lords of

the Main. Lords of the Main-ay, Lords of the

MainThe first-born of Neptune are Lords of

the Main !

LORDS OF THE MAIN

40

JOSEPH STANSBURY When Faction, in league with the treach

erous Gaul, Began to look big, and paraded in state, A meeting was held at Credulity Hall, And Echo proclaimed their ally good and great.

By sea and by land

Such wonder's are plannedNo less than the bold British lion to

chain !

Well hove! says Jack Lanyard,

French, Congo, and Spaniard. Have at you-remember, we're Lords of

the Main ! Lords of the Main, aye, Lords of the

Main; The Tars of Old England are Lords of

the Main.

Nor are we alone in the noble career; The Soldier partakes of the generous

flame To glory he marches, to glory we steer; Between us we share the rich harvest of fame.

Recorded on high,

Their names never die. Of heroes by sea and by land what a

train.

To the king, then, God bless him!

The world shall confess him The Lord of those men who are Lords of

the Main! Lords of the Main-ay, Lords of the

MainThe Tars of Old England are Lords of

the Main. Rivington's Royal Gazette, Feb. 16, 1780.

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