The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Ye citizens of London, why
So coy, and diffident, and shy,
Who should with open arms receive
The instruments, through whom ye live;
Why shun the soldiers' company,
And with the valiant city free,
And call for arms yourselves at last?
Is it, because the danger's pass'd?

Should bloody arms entrusted be
With men of your temerity,
Who, when ye in the ground assemble
Your bands, bid all the council tremble?
Who, firing but with powder, make
Yourselves, and the whole city quake?
What would become of us, if all
The liverymen should fire with ball?
The fright we never could endure;
Nor would his lordship be secure
Within the wind of such commotion,
But death again might be his potion!

Can ye so suddenly forget
Those ragged ministers of fate,
All law and order's overturners,
The furious mob of chapel-burners;
The scum and refuse of the nation,
The panic-dread, and devastation,
The ravage and the flames they spread,
With king Apollyon at their head!

469

Aghast ye stood, nor dared oppose
Your feeble, despicable foes,
Boys, women, chimney-sweeps, collected
To act, as wiser heads directed,
With horror every heart to' inspire,
To burn your stately domes with fire,
Your shackled felons to release,
Your wealth and arsenals to seize,
And gall you with the triple chain
Of France, America, and Spain.
No need of hostile fleets combined
To execute what hell design'd,
Suffice the miscreants most base
Your proud metropolis to rase.

So, if almighty Wisdom will,
The meanest instruments of ill,
Vermin out of the dust shall rise,
To deal the vengeance of the skies.

What angel in the darkest hour
Saved you from the destroyer's power?
Whose arm did the deliverance bring?
Was it the patriots, or the king?
From George the timely rescue came,
And pluck'd the brands out of the flame:
Swift to your help his legions flew,
And crush'd the desolating crew,
The authors of your woes and fears,
Your slaves—and executioners.

But do ye king and soldiers thank
Or for the Mansion-house or Bank?

470

With joy the kind preservers see
Both of your lives and property?
Rather the benefit to own
Ye scorn, and urge them to be gone,
Your friends impatient to exclude:
Such is the City's gratitude!

After the fight, ye breathe anew,
And who so valiant now as you?
Recover'd from the recent squall
Which threaten'd to o'erwhelm us all,
Ye plead your right to guide the helm,
(The City is your proper realm,)
And but your own militia need,
With dauntless K--- at their head.

So sailors when the storm is o'er,
Look up, and think of it no more,
Forget their fears, and, what is stranger,
They swear they never were in danger.

University of Virginia Library

ADDRESS TO THE CITY.