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Song XXVIII. TRUE REFORMERS.
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37

Song XXVIII. TRUE REFORMERS.

Come, ye patriots bold, whose affections are cold
Towards tyrannical monsters' laws,
Let's true friendship display, and comem'rate the day
That our brethren escap'd from their foes:
When the bloodhounds of state were most insatiate
For the lives of brave Hardy and friends,
Heaven lent her kind aid to those mortals betray'd,
And redeem'd them from ruffians and fiends.
When arraignd at the bar, Hardy shone like a star,
Though opposed by the infamous Ross;

38

But alas, to be brief, his poor wife died with grief—
Ah, who can compensate his loss.
Consolation to Muir, may his heaven be secure—
Skirving's, Palmer's, Yorke's, Marg'rot's, and P---'s;
Let's not Gerrald forget, nor the least patriot,
Whose characters admit of no stain.
'Twould be cruel to o'erlook Erskine, Gibbs, and H. Tooke,
Who defeated their wicked design;
May Thelwall and the rest with good juries be blest,
And their souls through eternity shine.
Into ruin we sink, England's now on the brink,
By its infernal wise men's exploits;
Swift destruction to all who our lives do enthrall
And invade constitutional rights.