 | Poems on several occasions |  |
This was the charge the feather'd songsters gave,
When those deputed instantly took leave;
And forthwith flew into the grove forlorn,
From whence the chaunters had so late been torn.
Oppression, with his iron rod, had made
It his retreat, and now demanded aid
Of Violence and Wrong, to stem the storm
Of injur'd Right's to them most horrid form:
While soothing Flattery's infectious flame,
Thought to consume the warblers loyal theme;
But all their wiles were quash'd like drops of rain,
Which, when they once are fall'n, none can regain.
When those deputed instantly took leave;
And forthwith flew into the grove forlorn,
From whence the chaunters had so late been torn.
Oppression, with his iron rod, had made
It his retreat, and now demanded aid
Of Violence and Wrong, to stem the storm
Of injur'd Right's to them most horrid form:
76
Thought to consume the warblers loyal theme;
But all their wiles were quash'd like drops of rain,
Which, when they once are fall'n, none can regain.
| Poems on several occasions | |