[The Hamiltoniad or, An extinguisher for the royal faction of New-England. With copious notes, illustrative, biographical, philosophical, critical, admonitory, and political; being intended as a high-heeled shoe for all limping republicans. By Anthony Pasquin] [i.e. by John Williams] |
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John A---s growls, indignant, but forlorn,
While the world gives their pity for his scorn!
God help the little States, they're full of trouble;
Fortune's a jilt! Ambition is a bubble;
Good by'e, Rhode-Island—Delaware, adieu;
Behold these tears! they gush, they flow, for you:
Forefend them Heaven, for sure that day will come,
When Pennsylvania's and Virginia's claws,
Shall seize these tiny Darlings, for their maws,
And gulp them, as the Cow did Tommy Thumb!
The Philosophic Chief of Monticello,
Is such a heterodox and hungry fellow;
Churches and Chapels, Synagogues and Kirkies,
To him are Capons, Ducks, and Geese and Turkies.
Faith stalks at large—Urbanity will swagger;
And redd'ning Bigotry must hide his dagger:
Had I his power, prerogative, and place,
I'd trim these Wits, and flog 'em into—grace;
Fry, like Saint Larry, casuistic Souls;
Satan might like a rasher on the coals—
My heated temper mounts, inflam'd with ire;
And, boils, like Julien's soup, upon the fire!
Would I were metamorphos'd to a Flea,
I'd hop to Washington, with cruel glee,
Steal in the galligaskins of our Chief,
And make his Excellency twist with grief;
Watch, when he wrote of Diplomatic news;
And make him careless of his P's and Q's.
Ah, now I droop, beneath the thumb of Care,
I'll take off Horror's cutting edge, by prayer:
While the world gives their pity for his scorn!
41
Fortune's a jilt! Ambition is a bubble;
Good by'e, Rhode-Island—Delaware, adieu;
Behold these tears! they gush, they flow, for you:
Forefend them Heaven, for sure that day will come,
When Pennsylvania's and Virginia's claws,
Shall seize these tiny Darlings, for their maws,
And gulp them, as the Cow did Tommy Thumb!
42
Is such a heterodox and hungry fellow;
Churches and Chapels, Synagogues and Kirkies,
To him are Capons, Ducks, and Geese and Turkies.
43
And redd'ning Bigotry must hide his dagger:
Had I his power, prerogative, and place,
I'd trim these Wits, and flog 'em into—grace;
Fry, like Saint Larry, casuistic Souls;
Satan might like a rasher on the coals—
44
And, boils, like Julien's soup, upon the fire!
Would I were metamorphos'd to a Flea,
I'd hop to Washington, with cruel glee,
Steal in the galligaskins of our Chief,
And make his Excellency twist with grief;
45
And make him careless of his P's and Q's.
Ah, now I droop, beneath the thumb of Care,
I'll take off Horror's cutting edge, by prayer:
| [The Hamiltoniad | |