University of Virginia Library

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To --- ---

SIR,

Seeing thou art the undoubted assertor, supporter and protector of all our religious and civil liberties, neither the world nor you will, I presume, think the following Poem unaptly address'd to so distinguish'd a character—Is it not you who have always boldly stood in defence of the liberties of this people against the encroachments of the prerogative, or the evil designs of wicked and corrupt men to destroy them?—Is it not you who have council'd again and again a prudent acquiescence to that greatest of blessings the S---p A---t, rather than a bold and noble opposition, like an uncommon patriot not preferring your own interest to the loss of your country's love?—Is it not you who with a patriotism unparalleled propos'd and supported the bold and manly word Privilege, against the pusillanimous one, Rights, in a certain spirited address?—Is it not you who contriv'd, fram'd end got pass'd into a law the W*rd*n A**t, by which agreeable to the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free, we are not pharisaically deny'd the free use of the air and our limbs, or the free enjoyment of the benign influence of the Sun which shines as bright on that day, which is set apart for social worship and religious converse, as on any other?—Is it not you who in a populous assembly asserted in support of the same Act, that the Sabbath was no where so remissly kept as in this town, an assertion as remarkable for its truth as for the unhypocritical gravity with which it was delivered?— In short you are so continually exerting your abilities in defence of our just rights, liberties and immunities both religious and civil in this way, that it would be endless to enumerate them—I shall therefore take my leave of you with wishing, that the just reward of such unfeign'd regard for religion and your native country, without one interested view to popularity or HONOR, which you have experienced in this life may prepare you for the smiles of Him who abhors hypocrisy, slavery and tyranny.—

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THE TIMES.

A POEM. By an American.

'Tis not great Churchill's ghost that claims your ear,
For even ghosts of wit are strangers here;
That patriot-soul to other climes remov'd,
Well-pleas'd enjoys that liberty he lov'd;
No pang resents for W--- to exile driven,
Exults that worth and Pratt are dear to heaven:

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Young sure it is not, from whose honey'd lays
Streams a rank surfeit of redundant praise;
For guilt like his what genius shall atone?
D---n the foul verse that daubs a Stuart's throne.

Curs'd lack of genius, or thou soon should'st know,
This humble cot conceals a tyrant's foe;
By nature artless, unimprov'd by pains,
No favour courts me, and no fear restrains,
Wild as the soil, and as the heav'ns severe,
All rudely rough, and wretchedly sincere;
Whose frowning stars have thrown me God knows where
A wild exotic neighbour to the bear;
One glebe supports us, brethren cubs we run,
Shoot into form, as foster'd by the sun;
No tutoring hand the tender sapling train'd,
Thro' walks of science, nor his growth sustain'd;
Such fruit he yields, luxuriant wildings bear,
Course as the earth, and unconfin'd as air:
No Muse I court, an alien to the Nine,
Thou chaste instructress, Nature! thou art mine;
Come, blessed parent, mistress, muse and guide,
With thee permit me wander side by side;
Smit with thy charms, my earliest joy I trace,
Fondly enamour'd of thy angel face;

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Succeeding labours smother not the flame,
Still, still the dear attachment lives the same.

No idle task the earliest Muse began,
But mark'd the morals, e'er she prais'd the man;
To struggling worth supply'd no feeble aid,
And wove the honest wreath for virtue's head,
Uncourtly grave, or thro' the lessen'd page
Shed wisdom's lore, and humaniz'd the age;
Pour'd wholesome treasures from her magic tongue,
Instructed, rul'd, corrected, blest, by song:
How chang'd! how lost! in these degenerate days,
She stuns me with the clamour of her praise:
Is there a villain eminent in state,
Without one gleam of merit?—she'll create;
Is there a scoundrel, has that scoundrel gold?
There the full tide of panegyrick's roll'd;
From venal quills shall stream the sugar'd shower,
And bronze the wretched Lordling—if in power:
Stamp me that blockhead, which (kind heav'n be blest)
My maker form'd my temper to detest,
If sacred numbers I again desert,
The native byas of an honest heart;
Basely to truckle to a wretch in rule,
Or spread a feast for Gods, to cram a fool;

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Not for a Monarch would I forge a lie,
To nestle in the sun-shine of his eye:
The paths of error if in youth I trod,
Dress'd a gay idol in the garb of God,
The pageant shrinks, I weep my folly past,
Heav'n frown me dead, but there I've sinn'd my last:
G---e, scarce one lustrum numbers out its days,
Since every tongue was busy in thy praise;
(O make it nameless in the tale of time,
Nor consecrate to ages such a crime;
We lov'd him, love him still, by heav'ns do more,
But make us B---h subjects, we'll adore)
Successful WAR had added wide domain,
And crouded oceans scarce his fleets sustain,
United Gaul and Spain his casy prey,
And but compact to give their realms away;
Where-e'er he bids, consenting B---s fly,
For G---e they conquer, or for G---e they die;
Bless the glad hour, the glorious strife approve,
That sounds his glory, and proclaims their love:
Ah sad reverse! with doubling sighs I speak,
A flood of sorrow coursing down my cheek,
The salient heart for G--- forgets to bound,
Dark disaffection sheds her gloom around;

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Fair LIBERTY our soul's most darling prize
A bleeding victim flits before our eyes;
Was it for this our great forefathers rode,
O'er a vast ocean to this bleak abode!
When liberty was into contest brought,
And loss of life was but a second thought;
By pious violence rejected thence,
To try the utmost stretch of providence;
The DEEP, unconscious of the furrowing keel,
Essay'd the tempest to rebuke their zeal;
The tawny natives and inclement sky
Put on their terrors, and command to fly;
They mock at danger; what can those appall!
To whom fair LIBERTY is all in all.
See the new world their purchase, blest domain,
Where lordly tyrants never forg'd the chain;
The prize of valour, and the gift of prayer,
Hear this and redden each degenerate heir!
Is it for you their honour to betray?
And give the harvest of their blood away?
Look back with rev'rence, aw'd to just esteem,
Preserve the blessings handed down from them;
If not, look forwards, look with deep despair,
And dread the curses of your beggar'd heir:

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What bosom beats not, when such themes excite?
Be men, be gods, be stubborn in the right.

Where am I hurry'd? Pollio, I forbear,
Again I'm calm, and claim thy sober ear;
To independence bend the filial knee,
And kiss her sister sage œconomy.
Oeconomy you frown! “O hide our shame!
“'Tis vile profusion's ministerial name,
“To pinch the farmer groaning at the press,
“Commission leeches to adopt the peace;
“That peace obtain'd, S---h armies to augment,
“And sink the nation's credit two per cent;
“With barren S---h bards the lists to load,
“Both place and pension partially bestow'd;
“Nay more, the cave of famine to translate
“Within the purlieus of the R---l gate;
“While brats from northern hills, full, bat'ning lie,
“Their meagre southern masters pining by.”
Peace, peace, my Pollio! sluice thy sorrows here;
Thy country's ghost now points thee to its bier;
Of foreign wrongs, and unfelt woes no more,
While dogs cry havock on thy natal shore;
Yon funeral torch that dimly gilds my cell,
Comes fraught with mischiefs, terrible to tell;

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It dawns in sables—too officious ray!
Yet, yet compassionately roll away;
All, all is o'er, but anguish, slavery, fear,
The chains already clanking in my ear;
O Death! tho' awful, but prevent this blow,
No more thou'rt censur'd for the human foe;
O'er life's last ebbs, thy dregs of sorrow fling,
Point all my pangs, and stab with every sting;
I'll bless th' alternative, if not a slave,
And scorn the wretch who trembles at the grave.

Art thou persuaded, for a moment cool,
That nature made thee slave, and mark'd thee fool,
That what we won by hardy war, was given,
That non-resistance is secure of heaven;
That persecution in our infant state,
Was nursing kind compassion in the Great;
That emigration was not to secure
Our liberties, but to enslave the more;
That charters, privileges, patents, powers,
Were our's till now, and now no longer our's;
To claim exemption by the charter-seal,
Will rashly violate the common-weal;
Juries are nusances, and Traffick worse,
And to be blind, sagacity of course;

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The Stamp and Land-Tax are as blessings meant,
And opposition is our free consent;
That where we are not, we most surely are,
That wrong is right, black white, and foul is fair;
That M*nsf**ld's honest, and that Pitt's a knave,
That Pratt's a villain, and that Wilkes's a slave;
That godlike Temple is not greatly good,
Nor B---e a rigid Jacobite by blood;
That sordid Gr---v---le lately is become
The patron of our liberties at home,
(For whom, now hear me gods! be hell inflam'd,
And murderers of their country doubly d---d)
Now stretch thy pliant faith, adopt this creed,
And be a J*r*d Jng*rs*l indeed;
If not thou'rt wretched, crawling in the dust,
Condemn'd, despis'd, and herded with the just:
Frown honest Satyre! menace what you will,
Rogues rise luxuriant, and defeat you still;
Fatigu'd with numbers, and oppress'd with gall,
One general curse must overwhelm them all:
But O ye vilest vile, detested FEW!
Eager, intent, and potent to undoe;
Come out ye parricides! here take your stand,
Your solemn condemnation is at hand;

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Behold your crimes, and tremblingly await
The grumbling thunder of your country's hate;
Accursed as ye are! how durst ye bring
An injur'd people to distrust their K---?
Accursed as ye are, how could ye dare,
To lisp delusion in your M---h's ear?
How do I laugh, when such vain coxcombs lour,
Some grave pretence of dread, from lawless power;
To hear a scribling fry, beneath my hate,
Adopt the fraud, and sanctify deceit;
With mean importance, point regardless stings,
To aid injustice menace mighty things;
Nay to such heights of insolence they're flown,
The knaves crave shelter underneath a throne;
A throne all-gracious, such is George's praise,
Nor shall oppression blast his sacred bays.

Witness ye Fathers! whose protracted time,
Fruitful of story, chronicles the clime;
These howling Deserts, hospitably tame,
Erst snatch'd ye, martyrs, from the hungry flame;
'Twas heav'n's own cause, beneath whose shelt'ring pow'r
Ye grew the wonder of the present hour;
With anxious ear we've drank your piteous tale,
Where woes unnumber'd long and loud prevail;

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Here savage demons sporting with your pains,
There boding mischief in a Stuart reigns;
Mark the glad æra, when prevailing foes,
The state's fell harpies, doubling woes on woes,
Had wing'd destruction—Vengeance slept no more
But flung the tyrant from the British shore:
Learn hence ye minions! rev'rence to the law,
Salvation died not with the great Nassau.
And shall such sons, from such distinguish'd sires,
Nurtur'd to hardships, heirs of all their fires,
Shall they, O pang of heart! thus tamely bear,
Who stalk erect, and toss their heads in air?
Let beasts of burthen meanly woo the chain,
We talk of masters with a proud disdain.
“Prythee forbear rash youth! conceal thy fears,
“A modest silence best becomes thy years;
“Submit, be prudent—in some future hour,
“You'll feel the iron-gripe of ruthless power:”
Truce spawn of phlegm! thy frozen heart conceal,
Benumb'd, unerring, and unapt to feel;
No deed of glory can that soul intice,
Involv'd in adamantince walls of ice;
Within that bosom is a nook so warm,
That vice or virtue kindles to a storm?

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Could nature ever lure thee into sin?
Or bursts of passion thaw the frost within?
Thou happy Cynick! still thy senses lull,
Profoundly cautious, and supinely dull;
And should some heroe start his rash career,
Excentric to thy lazy, drowsy sphere;
Be wondrous wise, thy frigid temper bless,
That never wrought thee to a bold excess:
Call truth a libel, treason, honest zeal,
So strange is virtue, and so few can feel;
Call Churchill blockhead, Freedom, madness, rage,
Call injur'd Wilkes, a monster of the age;
To make me blest, unite this lay with those,
And then, then kindly rate yourselves my foes.

Fop, witling, fav'rite, st---pm---n, tyrant, tool,
Or all those mighty names in one, thou fool!
Let mean ambition, sordid lust of pride,
League thee vile Pander! to a tyrant's side;
Sport with thy country's groans, and be the first,
To stab the bosom which a traitor nurs'd;
Rifle the womb, and on those bowels prey,
To plague mankind, that spawn'd thee into day;
Be eminent, thy little soul exert,
And call forth all the rancour of thy heart:

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But should the eye of merit on the lour,
(Tho' lowly crush'd beneath the wheel of power)
Thou art my pity, monster! I forgive,
And beg one only curse, that thou may'st live.

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To close—dread sov'reign at whose sacred seat,
Justice and Mercy, spotless maidens meet;
George! Parent! King! our Guardian, Glory, Pride
And thou fair Regent! blooming by his side!

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Thy offspring pleads a parent's fostering care,
Reject not, frown not, but in mercy spare;
Besprent with dust, the lowly suppliant lies,
A helpless, guiltless, injured sacrifice:
If e'er our infant efforts could delight,
Or growing worth found favour in thy sight,
If warm affection due returns may plead,
Or faith unshaken ever intercede;
With modest boldness we thy smiles demand,
Nor wish salvation from another hand;
Deprest, not helpless, while a Brunswick reigns,
Whose righteous sceptre, no injustice stains.