 | Original poems |  |
44
SIMON SPUNKEY'S POLITICAL PEPPER-POT.
WRITTEN IN 1798.
Simon attunes his harp, more pleasant
Than reed of bland Arcadia's peasant,
And chaunteth poetry, more prettily
Than bard of ancient Greece or Italy.
Then seeth sights, sublime and dreadful,
Which fill with horrour every heat full;
Sets sansculottes, arm'd cap-a-pe,
To force the nations to be free,
Who do ten times more mischief, latterly,
Than erst did Alarick, or Attila.
Now, having found his former track,
The poet, nimbly, trips it back
Over the Union courses rapid,
And squibs each jacobinick saphead.
Such flights poetick few can equal,
As is apparent in the sequel.
Than reed of bland Arcadia's peasant,
And chaunteth poetry, more prettily
Than bard of ancient Greece or Italy.
Then seeth sights, sublime and dreadful,
Which fill with horrour every heat full;
Sets sansculottes, arm'd cap-a-pe,
To force the nations to be free,
Who do ten times more mischief, latterly,
Than erst did Alarick, or Attila.
Now, having found his former track,
The poet, nimbly, trips it back
Over the Union courses rapid,
And squibs each jacobinick saphead.
Such flights poetick few can equal,
As is apparent in the sequel.
OLD Time, a persevering codger,
Like debtor dunn'd a nimble dodger,
Who, having scamper'd one inch by you,
Will never afterwards come nigh you—
Whose foretop one might hide a cat in,
Though bald behind as school-boy's latin—
Who never bates his usual jog,
Nor stops his steed, for oats nor grog—
Who never yet, by saint, nor sinner,
Was brib'd to stay till after dinner,
But Jehu-like, drives all this world round
More swift than top by truant twirl'd round—
Who lowers at love-sick, poetaster,
But puffs productions of a master;
Before whom Grandeur's gorgeous palaces
Melt like a dream's fantastick fallacies,
Now jogs the bard, with shag-bark elbow,
And aims, with lifted scythe, a fell blow
To level Simon's reputation,
Unless the poet scrawl narration,
A kind of Hudibrastick summary
Of politicks, and other flummery,
Of matters tragical and queer,
Which mark the annals of last year,
And with a congée, low and pleasant,
Wish people happy through the present.
Like debtor dunn'd a nimble dodger,
Who, having scamper'd one inch by you,
Will never afterwards come nigh you—
Whose foretop one might hide a cat in,
Though bald behind as school-boy's latin—
Who never bates his usual jog,
Nor stops his steed, for oats nor grog—
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Was brib'd to stay till after dinner,
But Jehu-like, drives all this world round
More swift than top by truant twirl'd round—
Who lowers at love-sick, poetaster,
But puffs productions of a master;
Before whom Grandeur's gorgeous palaces
Melt like a dream's fantastick fallacies,
Now jogs the bard, with shag-bark elbow,
And aims, with lifted scythe, a fell blow
To level Simon's reputation,
Unless the poet scrawl narration,
A kind of Hudibrastick summary
Of politicks, and other flummery,
Of matters tragical and queer,
Which mark the annals of last year,
And with a congée, low and pleasant,
Wish people happy through the present.
Now, gentle reader, take the trouble
To mount my nag, he carries double,
I mean my Pegasus, so antick,
And bid him canter cross th' Atlantick;
While we, more close than bride and groom stick,
And ride like witches on a broomstick!
To mount my nag, he carries double,
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And bid him canter cross th' Atlantick;
While we, more close than bride and groom stick,
And ride like witches on a broomstick!
And first mad Gallia's coast we light on,
And then to Paris travel right on,
Where Discord makes infernal rout,
To see what Frenchmen are about.
And then to Paris travel right on,
Where Discord makes infernal rout,
To see what Frenchmen are about.
Five tyrants, chosen from the mob,
Well known in every dirty job,
By nature meant to bore and hector ye,
Compose th' immaculate Directory:
What cruel wars these fellows carry on,
While Até blows the blasting clarion.
Behold their Corsican commander,
The modern would-be Alexander;
Like Death he marches in terrorem,
And almost drives the Alps before him!
Well known in every dirty job,
By nature meant to bore and hector ye,
Compose th' immaculate Directory:
What cruel wars these fellows carry on,
While Até blows the blasting clarion.
Behold their Corsican commander,
The modern would-be Alexander;
Like Death he marches in terrorem,
And almost drives the Alps before him!
Mantua surrenders, Wurmser's taken,
The German empire sadly shaken;
Striving to manage such a chap,
E'en mighty Charles meets dire mishap!
The emperour trembles on his throne,
And scarcely thinks his head his own;
But ruminates on sad affairs,
And makes his will, and says his prayers!
The German empire sadly shaken;
Striving to manage such a chap,
E'en mighty Charles meets dire mishap!
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And scarcely thinks his head his own;
But ruminates on sad affairs,
And makes his will, and says his prayers!
Now Frenchmen rob the Virgin Mary,
Stand not in awe of pope's tiara,
But bid Italia's peasants learn
The art to “turn and overturn;”
Excite, with vigour most surprising,
A rage for revolutionizing.
In numerous lying proclamations,
Now promise freedom to all nations;
Persuade the mob, by vast exertion,
True liberty is French coercion!
Now rob and plunder where they can,
To put in force the “rights of man.”
Build commonwealths, in twenty places
Founded on such substantial bases,
That I dare venture you a sous
They'll last, at least—a month or two!
Stand not in awe of pope's tiara,
But bid Italia's peasants learn
The art to “turn and overturn;”
Excite, with vigour most surprising,
A rage for revolutionizing.
In numerous lying proclamations,
Now promise freedom to all nations;
Persuade the mob, by vast exertion,
True liberty is French coercion!
Now rob and plunder where they can,
To put in force the “rights of man.”
Build commonwealths, in twenty places
Founded on such substantial bases,
That I dare venture you a sous
They'll last, at least—a month or two!
Of many battles might we tell
On Rhine, on Sambre, and Moselle;
Of bloody skirmish, sad defeat,
Of Moreau's wonderful retreat;
But lest we should, by such procedure,
Your patience harass, gentle reader,
We'll bid our nag poetick prance
To view the interiour part of France,
And see, by mobocrat distracted,
The part of Satan over-acted!
On Rhine, on Sambre, and Moselle;
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Of Moreau's wonderful retreat;
But lest we should, by such procedure,
Your patience harass, gentle reader,
We'll bid our nag poetick prance
To view the interiour part of France,
And see, by mobocrat distracted,
The part of Satan over-acted!
State revolutions, every moon,
Secure dame Freedom's shadowy boon;
The wisest men the prisons haul'd in,
Armies by savage tyrants call'd in;
The constitution thus infringing,
Give stubborn patriots a singeing.
Of two directors, who were honest,
One banish'd is, the other non est;
And legislators, more than fifty,
That liberty might flourish thrifty,
Without defence, without a hearing,
Or any marks of guilt appearing,
Are sent, by Freedom's mild decree,
To end their days beyond the sea,
Or else, perhaps, a scuttled boat in
To stand a lousy chance for floating.
Secure dame Freedom's shadowy boon;
The wisest men the prisons haul'd in,
Armies by savage tyrants call'd in;
The constitution thus infringing,
Give stubborn patriots a singeing.
Of two directors, who were honest,
One banish'd is, the other non est;
And legislators, more than fifty,
That liberty might flourish thrifty,
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Or any marks of guilt appearing,
Are sent, by Freedom's mild decree,
To end their days beyond the sea,
Or else, perhaps, a scuttled boat in
To stand a lousy chance for floating.
See sister Gallia make wry faces,
To lure American embraces;
By bulletins, arrets abusive,
Claims all our trade, by right exclusive,
More lawless than a drunken pirate
She storms and blusters at a high rate,
And imitating fierce Algiers,
Sends forth her hordes of privateers;
A cruel gang of fell marauders
Are fitted by Directors' orders,
To bid each unarm'd brig defiance,
And plunder vessels in alliance.
To lure American embraces;
By bulletins, arrets abusive,
Claims all our trade, by right exclusive,
More lawless than a drunken pirate
She storms and blusters at a high rate,
And imitating fierce Algiers,
Sends forth her hordes of privateers;
A cruel gang of fell marauders
Are fitted by Directors' orders,
To bid each unarm'd brig defiance,
And plunder vessels in alliance.
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Now England lends her powerful aid,
A firm protection to our trade,
Belabours bucaniers with sad knocks,
And helps us out of many a bad box.
England, invincible at sea,
Before whom dons and monsieurs flee,
Has block'd up Cadiz, Brest, and so forth,
And dons and monsieurs dare not go forth;
And mynheers too, coop'd up in Texel,
With anger foam enough to vex hell,
But still the devil a bit of one can
Get by the English Admiral Duncan!
A firm protection to our trade,
Belabours bucaniers with sad knocks,
And helps us out of many a bad box.
England, invincible at sea,
Before whom dons and monsieurs flee,
Has block'd up Cadiz, Brest, and so forth,
And dons and monsieurs dare not go forth;
And mynheers too, coop'd up in Texel,
With anger foam enough to vex hell,
But still the devil a bit of one can
Get by the English Admiral Duncan!
At length De Winter ventures out,
The coast is clear, he makes no doubt,
Thinks Duncan will not treat a man ill
Who calmly courses through the channel,
But soon the latter, overjoy'd
To find the Hollander decoy'd,
Pursues him like audacious eagle
In quest of plover, snipe, or sea-gull.
The coast is clear, he makes no doubt,
Thinks Duncan will not treat a man ill
Who calmly courses through the channel,
But soon the latter, overjoy'd
To find the Hollander decoy'd,
Pursues him like audacious eagle
In quest of plover, snipe, or sea-gull.
But now we such a fray get sight on,
Muse, bring the conch-shell of old Triton;
And, when the battle's well a going,
Just set the green-ey'd dog a blowing!
Bid Proteus charge with thirty-pounders,
Or head a cavalcade of flounders!
Thetis emerge from cave of chrystal,
And all indignant cock a pistol!
Let dame Dione, dainty dripping,
Make horrid clatter mid the shipping!
Neptune leave Mistress Amphitrite,
And join the battle hoity-toity!
Gods, flock from every point of compass,
And make a devil of a rumpus!!!
Muse, bring the conch-shell of old Triton;
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Just set the green-ey'd dog a blowing!
Bid Proteus charge with thirty-pounders,
Or head a cavalcade of flounders!
Thetis emerge from cave of chrystal,
And all indignant cock a pistol!
Let dame Dione, dainty dripping,
Make horrid clatter mid the shipping!
Neptune leave Mistress Amphitrite,
And join the battle hoity-toity!
Gods, flock from every point of compass,
And make a devil of a rumpus!!!
But stop, your merciless reviewers
Will spit the bard on Satire's skewers,
For introducing such machinery
To cumber his poetick scenery.
Avaunt, be all this pagan stuff,
And tell in English, plain enough,
How Duncan Dutchmen sadly treated,
Stout Admiral Winter's fleet defeated,
And captur'd vessels nine or ten,
And kill'd, God knows, how many men!
Full many a Dutchman took a notion
To try a voyage beneath the ocean,
Where Captain Death his flag unfurl'd,
And anchor'd him in t'other world!
Will spit the bard on Satire's skewers,
For introducing such machinery
To cumber his poetick scenery.
Avaunt, be all this pagan stuff,
And tell in English, plain enough,
How Duncan Dutchmen sadly treated,
Stout Admiral Winter's fleet defeated,
And captur'd vessels nine or ten,
And kill'd, God knows, how many men!
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To try a voyage beneath the ocean,
Where Captain Death his flag unfurl'd,
And anchor'd him in t'other world!
Behold the famous Admiral Jervis
Has Spaniards much at suit and service,
Scatters their fleet like grass on hay-days,
And takes their Santa Trinidadas.
'Tis true, not many could he win since
He was created Lord St. Vincent's,
For Spaniard thinks his fortune made is
If he secure himself in Cadiz,
And force, nor art can ever make him,
His Lordship, give a chance to take him.
Has Spaniards much at suit and service,
Scatters their fleet like grass on hay-days,
And takes their Santa Trinidadas.
'Tis true, not many could he win since
He was created Lord St. Vincent's,
For Spaniard thinks his fortune made is
If he secure himself in Cadiz,
And force, nor art can ever make him,
His Lordship, give a chance to take him.
We might come back to England's shore,
To ken the mutiny at Nore;
Might notice British tars defection,
And Parker, heading insurrection,—
How Faction's hobby-horse first flung him,
And then administration hung him;
Might trouble you with long narration
Of Billy Pitt's administration;
Might talk of Bank of England falling,
Of Fox, so eloquent at railing;
But, gentle reader, we've no leisure
To tell you all these tales in measure:
Besides, you know, we have to rhyme for't,
'Twill, therefore, take too long a time for't;
Besides the wear of poet's brains,
Without a penny for his pains.
To ken the mutiny at Nore;
Might notice British tars defection,
And Parker, heading insurrection,—
How Faction's hobby-horse first flung him,
And then administration hung him;
Might trouble you with long narration
Of Billy Pitt's administration;
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Of Fox, so eloquent at railing;
But, gentle reader, we've no leisure
To tell you all these tales in measure:
Besides, you know, we have to rhyme for't,
'Twill, therefore, take too long a time for't;
Besides the wear of poet's brains,
Without a penny for his pains.
From Europe turn, my bounding Pegasus,
Where fighting fellows make a plaguy fuss,
To blithe Columbia's peaceful shores,
Where no rude din of battle roars,
Where Plenty fills her wicker basket,
And Wealth unlocks his golden casket,
Health strings the nerve of sturdy farmer,
And tints the cheek of ruddy charmer,
Where once was nought but desert, howling,
And swamps, scarce fit to pasture owl in,
Where meagre Famine often drill'd us,
Where Indians tomahawk'd, and kill'd us,
We quaff the bumper, smoke çigar,
Nor heed the howl of Indian war.
Where lately were but two or three men,
Are many hardy bands of freemen,
Where hemlocks grew of monstrous size,
Towns, VILLAS, CITIES, EMPIRES RISE!
Where fighting fellows make a plaguy fuss,
To blithe Columbia's peaceful shores,
Where no rude din of battle roars,
Where Plenty fills her wicker basket,
And Wealth unlocks his golden casket,
Health strings the nerve of sturdy farmer,
And tints the cheek of ruddy charmer,
Where once was nought but desert, howling,
And swamps, scarce fit to pasture owl in,
Where meagre Famine often drill'd us,
Where Indians tomahawk'd, and kill'd us,
We quaff the bumper, smoke çigar,
Nor heed the howl of Indian war.
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Are many hardy bands of freemen,
Where hemlocks grew of monstrous size,
Towns, VILLAS, CITIES, EMPIRES RISE!
Though Providence our patience tries
With Jacobins, and Hessian flies,
Though Death, fell arm'd with horrid cleaver,
Depopulates with yellow fever,
Still not one nation out of seven
Is favour'd half so much by heaven.
With Jacobins, and Hessian flies,
Though Death, fell arm'd with horrid cleaver,
Depopulates with yellow fever,
Still not one nation out of seven
Is favour'd half so much by heaven.
Thanks to our stars, seditious plans
Of democratick partisans
Have hitherto been all defeated,
And Faction's hydra form, retreated,
Feebly emits discordant yell
From Bache and Greenleaf's dirty cell;
Apollo views, with honest pride,
His favourites all on federal side,
And swears no antifederal noddy
Has half a soul to bless his body.
Of democratick partisans
Have hitherto been all defeated,
And Faction's hydra form, retreated,
Feebly emits discordant yell
From Bache and Greenleaf's dirty cell;
Apollo views, with honest pride,
His favourites all on federal side,
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Has half a soul to bless his body.
Though Franklin Bache, I'll bet a bowl,
Once own'd a puny factious soul;
Yet lack-a-day, who would have thought it!
Alas! alas! the French have bought it!
Once own'd a puny factious soul;
Yet lack-a-day, who would have thought it!
Alas! alas! the French have bought it!
Another way, both arch and funny,
This younker has for making money,
If true it be, and many say 'tis,
He's paid, by France, for printing gratis.
What he receives I cannot tell,
But this is true, I know full well,
A cent a ream for half his lies
Would make him rich before he dies!
This younker has for making money,
If true it be, and many say 'tis,
He's paid, by France, for printing gratis.
What he receives I cannot tell,
But this is true, I know full well,
A cent a ream for half his lies
Would make him rich before he dies!
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In Boston garrets, cellars, by-shops,
Full many a smirch'd seditious Cyclops,
Is forging lies for Chronicleers,
While Justice clamours for his ears.
Full many a smirch'd seditious Cyclops,
Is forging lies for Chronicleers,
While Justice clamours for his ears.
But why of Jacobins complaining,
Their numbers and their strength are waning;
How fast these ragamuffins dwindle,
None dare sedition's faggot kindle,
Except imported desperadoes,
Bog-trotters, noted for bravadoes;
And vagabonds not worth a stiver,
With many a southern negro driver,
Who should, methinks, be plac'd in one row,
With Swanwick, Gallatin, and Monroe,
And these fine fellows should be led,
By Lyon, sturdy antifed,
Who ought to howl with broken head,
As we conceive, with great humility,
For lack of common-place civility.
Their numbers and their strength are waning;
How fast these ragamuffins dwindle,
None dare sedition's faggot kindle,
Except imported desperadoes,
Bog-trotters, noted for bravadoes;
And vagabonds not worth a stiver,
With many a southern negro driver,
Who should, methinks, be plac'd in one row,
With Swanwick, Gallatin, and Monroe,
And these fine fellows should be led,
By Lyon, sturdy antifed,
Who ought to howl with broken head,
As we conceive, with great humility,
For lack of common-place civility.
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When our first magistrate was chosen,
The French were anxious to impose one,
In Faction's synod was a grand debate,
And J---n propos'd a candidate,
Long visag'd Jucos, spruce Adets,
Gaunt Discord's cohort of cadets
Are marshall'd under French protection,
In aid of J---'s election;
But vain the efforts of these fellows,
In vain each demo spouts and bellows,
Urges to please dame France, our sister,
'Till throat and lungs are all a blister,
And swears we ought to be unanimous,
To worship allies so magnanimous,
Because they made a deal of fuss
To help themselves, by helping us,
That this our continent should be tender'd,
For services the French have render'd,
That J---n's the very man,
To give effect to such a plan,
In vain, I say, is all this racket,
With now and then a bribe to back it,
The MAN, whom sages most revere,
Whose name admits of no compeer—
The MAN, who has been faithful found,
His country's friend when Fortune frown'd—
The MAN, who spite of Gallia's art,
Is thron'd in every federal heart—
The MAN, who justly may look down
On paltry things, who wear a crown,
Presiding o'er a happy nation,
Adorns his elevated station.
The French were anxious to impose one,
In Faction's synod was a grand debate,
And J---n propos'd a candidate,
Long visag'd Jucos, spruce Adets,
Gaunt Discord's cohort of cadets
Are marshall'd under French protection,
In aid of J---'s election;
But vain the efforts of these fellows,
In vain each demo spouts and bellows,
Urges to please dame France, our sister,
'Till throat and lungs are all a blister,
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To worship allies so magnanimous,
Because they made a deal of fuss
To help themselves, by helping us,
That this our continent should be tender'd,
For services the French have render'd,
That J---n's the very man,
To give effect to such a plan,
In vain, I say, is all this racket,
With now and then a bribe to back it,
The MAN, whom sages most revere,
Whose name admits of no compeer—
The MAN, who has been faithful found,
His country's friend when Fortune frown'd—
The MAN, who spite of Gallia's art,
Is thron'd in every federal heart—
The MAN, who justly may look down
On paltry things, who wear a crown,
Presiding o'er a happy nation,
Adorns his elevated station.
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The timid muse dares not relate
Each wise congressional debate,
How every auditor so sad is
When braggart Swiss, and Irish paddies,
With pride and nonsense, overweening,
Absurdly blunder round their meaning;—
Fellows, who have conspir'd to level,
With that arch democrat, the devil,
Tear up the pillars of society,
Pull down the fabrick of propriety,
Give meek-ey'd Piety a flogging,
And send Morality a jogging;
Fellows, who sped away, betimes
To seek a refuge from their crimes;
Who, if transported back to Europe,
Each hangman there would lack a new rope.
I say it is not my intention
One word about those folks to mention,
Lest Gunn, so fierce, or Blount,
so cruel,
The poet challenge to a duel!
Each wise congressional debate,
How every auditor so sad is
When braggart Swiss, and Irish paddies,
With pride and nonsense, overweening,
Absurdly blunder round their meaning;—
Fellows, who have conspir'd to level,
With that arch democrat, the devil,
Tear up the pillars of society,
Pull down the fabrick of propriety,
Give meek-ey'd Piety a flogging,
And send Morality a jogging;
Fellows, who sped away, betimes
To seek a refuge from their crimes;
Who, if transported back to Europe,
Each hangman there would lack a new rope.
I say it is not my intention
One word about those folks to mention,
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The poet challenge to a duel!
Full many fine things might be written
Of Blount's deep plot to join with Britain,
And bid the Spaniards rue the sorry day
When he should force them out of Florida.
But then, perhaps, 'twould be a pity
To interfere with our committee,
Who put in motion wheel and pulley,
Resolv'd to trace the matter fully;
And in due time will give a history
Of this dire democratick mystery.
Of Blount's deep plot to join with Britain,
And bid the Spaniards rue the sorry day
When he should force them out of Florida.
But then, perhaps, 'twould be a pity
To interfere with our committee,
Who put in motion wheel and pulley,
Resolv'd to trace the matter fully;
And in due time will give a history
Of this dire democratick mystery.
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We will not stop to state the bickering,
'Twixt foppish Yrujo, manly Pickering;
Nor tell how Yrujo, all forlorn,
Crept through the small end of the horn:
For this, with many such like capers,
Will cut a dash in Hartford papers;
For Hartford wits these things can burnish
In brighter lays than I can furnish.
'Twixt foppish Yrujo, manly Pickering;
Nor tell how Yrujo, all forlorn,
Crept through the small end of the horn:
For this, with many such like capers,
Will cut a dash in Hartford papers;
For Hartford wits these things can burnish
In brighter lays than I can furnish.
My muse is under contribution,
To sing the frigate Constitution:
Lest, this our pithy ode be lost on
Commercial wits, and tars of Boston.
To sing the frigate Constitution:
Lest, this our pithy ode be lost on
Commercial wits, and tars of Boston.
Bostonians built a stately frigate,
And undertook to man and rig it.
Which set Sedition's sons a scowling,
And madden'd jacobins to howling.
And undertook to man and rig it.
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And madden'd jacobins to howling.
This 'foresaid frigate, on a day
Appointed, was to glide away
To hoary Ocean's oozy bed
With Neptune, then and there to wed.
Appointed, was to glide away
To hoary Ocean's oozy bed
With Neptune, then and there to wed.
The day arriv'd at length, when lo!
Miss Constitution would not go:
How jacobinick sinners scoff,
Because she fails to travel off!
Miss Constitution would not go:
How jacobinick sinners scoff,
Because she fails to travel off!
They swore she was prophetick wench,
And foresaw trouble from the French,
If she to federal folly kept tune,
And sought the arms of master Neptune.
And foresaw trouble from the French,
If she to federal folly kept tune,
And sought the arms of master Neptune.
At length, in merry mood, she went in,
And floats her natural element in:
O may she ever triumph there,
The “Wat'ry God's” peculiar care!
And floats her natural element in:
O may she ever triumph there,
The “Wat'ry God's” peculiar care!
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My ready muse is pleas'd to squint her
Eye on worthy, Walpole printer,
Who wraps in paper of each week
What relishes of true antique,
To greet each good and letter'd man
A journal form'd on generous plan:
None of your dull mechanick Dutch-things,
But fraught with poetry and such things.
With politicians, wise as Solon,
With “Preacher,” “Hermit,” “Spondee,” “Colon;”
With pointed, pretty pithy “Peter,”
Whom ladies style the charming creature,
And chaunt his sentimental metre.
My mind with rapture swells, when e'er I
Contemplate brother “Hesdin Beri,”
And “Critick,” with an eagle-ken,
Skill'd to discern the faultering pen;
Who ably plies the polish'd file,
To give new gloss to Churchill's style,
And strives to make each rhyming elf
As pure a writer as himself.
And bids instructed taste to scorn
The sound of Della Crusca's horn;
But swift to Elysian fields elope,
Hearkening to poetry and Pope:
To “Common Sense,” and sober “Moralist,”
Who highly ornament our thorough list,
To them, with sage Apollo's leave, I
Erect a “Monumentum Ævi.”
Eye on worthy, Walpole printer,
Who wraps in paper of each week
What relishes of true antique,
To greet each good and letter'd man
A journal form'd on generous plan:
None of your dull mechanick Dutch-things,
But fraught with poetry and such things.
With politicians, wise as Solon,
With “Preacher,” “Hermit,” “Spondee,” “Colon;”
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Whom ladies style the charming creature,
And chaunt his sentimental metre.
My mind with rapture swells, when e'er I
Contemplate brother “Hesdin Beri,”
And “Critick,” with an eagle-ken,
Skill'd to discern the faultering pen;
Who ably plies the polish'd file,
To give new gloss to Churchill's style,
And strives to make each rhyming elf
As pure a writer as himself.
And bids instructed taste to scorn
The sound of Della Crusca's horn;
But swift to Elysian fields elope,
Hearkening to poetry and Pope:
To “Common Sense,” and sober “Moralist,”
Who highly ornament our thorough list,
To them, with sage Apollo's leave, I
Erect a “Monumentum Ævi.”
65
Now, courteous reader, since awhile
To sing in Della Cruscan style,
By frolick Fancy born along,
We've stemm'd the Cataract of Song;
'Tis time, I think, with aching heart,
For Muse, and you, and I, to part;
Still cherishing the hope, however,
That we three gentlefolks, so clever,
When eke another season passes,
May meet on summit of Parnassus,
And trill a New Year's Ode, sublimer
Than ever flow'd from lip of rhymer.
To sing in Della Cruscan style,
By frolick Fancy born along,
We've stemm'd the Cataract of Song;
'Tis time, I think, with aching heart,
For Muse, and you, and I, to part;
Still cherishing the hope, however,
That we three gentlefolks, so clever,
When eke another season passes,
May meet on summit of Parnassus,
And trill a New Year's Ode, sublimer
Than ever flow'd from lip of rhymer.
There is a species of the walnut tree, which, from the roughness of its bark, is called “shag-bark.”
The infamous French Directory were even participators of the plunder acquired by acts of piracy on the American commerce.
Bache and Greenleaf, two editors of factious newspapers, ever in opposition to the administrations of Washington and Adams.
It is true that the democratick party, in the United States, have acquired all the power which they possess, by cajoling, flattering and deceiving the people. Newspapers and pamphlets, fraught with absolute falsehoods, were circulated gratis among the yeomen of the United States. The expense was paid by our “Great and Terrible Ally,” the French republick.
Matthew Lyon, who is now a member of the legislature of the United States, and is said to be influential among the prevailing party, was an emigrant from Ireland, was sold for his passage, took an active part in the war between America and Great Britain, but was degraded for cowardice.
This infamous s---l spat in a gentleman's face, on the floor of congress-hall, in presence of the popular branch of the august American legislature. The injured person, Mr. Griswold, who was likewise a member of the legislature, sought IN VAIN for redress for this breach of privilege, and of common decency. He was at length induced to resort to the right of the strongest, and cudgelled the said infamous Matthew Lyon, in presence of the speaker and house of representatives in congress assembled!!! “Tell it not in Gath.” See Democracy Unveiled, third Edition, from page 100 to 105.
Most of the disturbances which have distracted the councils of the United States, have originated from intriguing foreigners: the greater part of whom were fugitives from the justice of their native countries.
Messrs. Gunn and Blount were members of our national legislature. Both remarkable for a propensity for duelling.
This Blount was a crafty democrat, alike destitute of moral and political honour. He endeavoured to open a negotiation with the British ambassadour for the surrender of the Floridas to the English, was impeached before the senate for this misdemeanor, and avoided, by absconding, the punishment due to his crimes.
Yrujo was the Spanish ambassadour to the United States. This alludes to a diplomatick controversy, in which the Spaniard's want of talents was very manifest.
Mr. Carlisle printed the newspaper (in Walpole, in New Hampshire, New England) in which this production was first published. It was reprinted in pamphlets, and had an extensive circulation throughout the United States. Mr. Carlisle's newspaper was, at that time, edited by Joseph Dennie, Esq. Mr. Dennie now conducts, at Philadelphia, a literary paper, called the “Port Folio,” which has obtained great and deserved celebrity throughout the United States. Mr. Dennie, in this and some other poetical productions, was the author's Mentor:—
“Thou knowest, when Indolence possess'd me all,“How oft I rous'd, at thy inspiring call,
“Burst from the siren's fascinating power,
“And gave the muse thou lov'st one studious hour.”
GIFFORD.
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