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THE PROBATIONARY ODES
  
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82

THE PROBATIONARY ODES

A Dedicatory Ode To a Would-be Great Man

Jonathan sheweth his profound skill in heraldry—maketh an essay upon the subject of titles, and proposeth a most apt one for a certain distinguished personage.

Ætavis Edite!
Hor.

O Thou! whatever be thy title loved,
King of the Romans, Caesar, Czarowitz,
Dauphin, or Prince of Wales, if more approved,
Infant, or Daddy-Vice, as best befits,
Deign from my hands t'accept this savory sprig
To greet thy nostrils, or adorn thy wig.
Say, who can rival thine illustrious line,
Great son of unborn Adam's first-born son,
By right of primogeniture divine
Heir to those titles thy great grandshire won:
Heir to this whole terraqueous globe, no doubt,
As any herald's office can make out.
But since thine humble nature condescends
To wave thy title to the world at large,
Were mine the envied task, the grateful charge,
Thou should'st be greater in my verse sublime
Than e'er was Gog, or Magog yet in rhyme.

83

Caesars of old, were by adoption named,
As kings of Romas are by fiction, now;
Hence each securely the succession claimed;
From portents sure, I ween, so wilt not thou;
As gibbet-climbing worthies to the top
Do never rise, but just beneath it drop.
If Dauphin I should hail thee, some would say
I meant to threaten with the guillotine;
If Prince of Wales;—it might a thought betray
Thy dad a madman was, thy dam a queen;
If Czarowitz I style thee;—they would swear,
I meant thy father was a Russian bear.
Infants, in Spain, or Lisbon, may be born
With bears, and bellies round, for ought I know;
With wigs their nappers too they may adorn,
Big as a bushel, and as white as snow:
There, Doctor Slop might for an Infant pass,
So may'st thou there; but not here, by the mass.
Though Congress once, their ignorance to hide,
Forebore on splendid titles to descant,
A partisan who combats on thy side,
A title fitting would not let thee want.
Old George, he swore, might without title shine,
But, most superfluous highness, should be thine.

84

Ode I

To All the Great Folks in a Lump

The humble petition of Jonathan; containing after the manner of other candidates for honors and offices, many fair promises, which peradventure may never be fulfilled.

Confedere duces, et vulgi stante corona
Surgit ad hos Jonathan.
Ovid.

So please your Worships, Honors, Lordships, Graces!
I Jonathan, to Peter Pindar cousin,
Hearing that you possess a mint of places
Have come to ask for less than half a dozen.
I ask not that to serve me you should quit
Your lofty stations or turn out your friends:
No—I've more conscience! and at once admit
Your duty's to consult on means and ends.
Those ends once answered—and the means obtained,
To Jonathan's petition lend an ear:
Nor think his young ambition overstrained,
Head of Department, should his claim appear.

85

Heads of Departments, we have seen, can jump
At once into the mysteries of their art:
Not Richmond's Duke excels great K-x the plump,
Not Law to H---n could teach his part.
I ask not dollars; though in truth a few
Would jingle sweetly in a poet's purse:
And since t'encourage arts belongs to you,
A pension would not make the thing the worse.
I ask not such a patronage as brings
To brother heads an influence far and wide;
Commissions, loans, douceurs, jobs, pretty things,
Bank votes, directorships, and offices beside.
Let others, patrons—Me, your client be:
I have abundant zeal, and long to show it;
To celebrate your praises make me free
And dub me here, at once, your laureate Poet.
I'll puff you to the clouds! and, by the pigs,
Whilst there is brightest arch the rainbow spreads,
Comets shall lend their tails to make you wigs.
And powdered sunbeams glitter on your heads.

86

I'll swear to all the world—you never dipped
In speculators' kennel your pure hands;
That not a soul of you e'er dealt in script:
To prove my words your broker ready stands.
I'll say—that bank directors though you are,
No private interest ever sways your vote:
That you are chose, just to see all fair,
And, who shall win or lose, care not a groat.
I'll swear—that nation's debt's a blessing vast
Which far and wide its genial influence sheds,
From whence Pactolian showers descends so fast
On theirs—id est—the speculators' heads.
That to increase this blessing and entail
To future times its influence benign,
New loans from foreign nations cannot fail,
Whilst standing armies clinch the grand design.
That taxes are not burthens to the rich;
That—they alone to labor drive the Poor;
The lazy rogues would neither plough, nor ditch
Unless to keep the sheriff from the door.
I'll swear—your honors are not like the boy,
Who killed his goose which golden eggs did lay;
Your goose you've no intention to destroy;
Content to squeeze out half a dozen a day.
I'll swear—in treaties you never had a thought
To give up gratis all right of preemption:
Or that you had an agent on the spot,
To purchase for yourselves, I will not mention.

87

I'll say—that you're well read, and well expound,
Much better than Vattel! the Law of Nations:
That no newfangled doctrines have you found
To fritter states away to corporations.
I'll swear—they owe their charters to your grant,
And if beyond their proper bounds you catch 'em,
The means to bring them back you will not want,
But instant, with a quo warranto match 'em.
These things and many more—you'll not disown,
Prove I can flatter in a proper way;
Suppose me now a speculator grown,
Hear what to little Atlas I could say.
June 1, 1793

88

Ode II

To Atlas

Jonathan, turned Speculator, in behalf of the whole corps addresseth their great benefactor and patron.

Ingreditor folo, et caput inter nubila condit,
Virg.

------Nunquam dimoveas!
Hor.

Whilst you, great Atlas! prop the State,
Nor totter underneath a weight,
That would a giant crush;
Let pigmy wights, in Congress Hall,
Set sparrow traps to work your fall,
Regard them not a rush!
A lion should a spaniel bay,
The king of beasts would keep his way
Nor heed the babbler's throat;
Then deign not, Atlas, to look down
Or punish with a single frown
The angry snarler's note.
Whilst on your paper throne you sit
With solid gold beneath your feet
Fear not a regicide!
Your faithful Janizaries all
Shall muster thick in Congress Hall
To guard their leader's side.
Go on, great chief, to make us all,
Not from your shoulders cast the ball,
Lest we, like worms, should drop,
Who on a golden pippin prey,
Till haply on some stormy day
'Tis shaken from the top.
June 5, 1793

89

Ode III

To a Select Body of Great Men

Jonathan approacheth the holy of holies:—is frightened out of his senses, and knocked down;—endeavors to deprecate the wrath of offended dignity.

------“Horrisono stridentes cardono facrae Panduntur portaie.”

My Lords! your Poet Laureate, humbly knocks;
And begs permission to approach your door;
Nay! good my Lords! don't set me in the stocks!
I vow to God, that I'll do so no more.
Good Mister Sargeant! spare me this one time!
Lord, Sir! you need not thus have knocked me down!
Wretch that I am!—I'll freely own my crime
Deserves I should be whipped through all the town.
I never said, in secret you debate,
Like Turkish divan, or Venetian peers;
Hatching infernal plots against the State—
Nay! good my Lords! I pay you spare my ears!
I never said, whilst here in state you sit,
Like Satan's Council, you're ten times as big,
Swoln by the magic of your self-conceit,
As folks that walk about without a wig.
I never said that you were bound to do
Aught else, but what your Lordships freely chose;
That states have any right to question you,
Or thrust in your concerns a busy nose.

90

I never questioned your undoubted right
To give what titles, and to whom you please;
You shall be dukes and princes! by this light,
I'll lie as quiet as a mouse in cheese.
I ne'er asserted that you ruled the bank;
Or said it had an influence over you:
You all shall be Directors; first in rank;
And if you please, kings, lords, and commons, too.
Gad so! my gracious lords, I've found at last
That I've been guilty of an indecorum:
In thus addressing you, I've been too fast,
I should have first addressed his worship Quorum.
Great Sir! but troth, this measure will not hit
The solemn style which I to him must use;
So, if you please, I'll stop a tiny bit,
And hold a conference with Madam Muse.
June 12, 1793

Ode IV

To a Would-be Great Man

Jonathan defendeth the great Defender;—magnifieth and exalteth his works, and confesseth his own littleness of understanding.

“Certat tergeminis tollere honoribus.”
Hor.

Daddy Vice, Daddy Vice,
The drift of your fine publication:
As sure as a gun,
The thing was just done
To secure you—a pretty high station.

91

Defenses you call
To knock down our wall,
And batter the states to the ground, sir,
So thick were your shot,
And so hell-fire hot,
They've scarce a whole bone to be found, sir.
When you tell us of kings
And such pretty things,
Good mercy! how brilliant your page is!
So bright in each line,
I vow now you'll shine
Like a glowworm, to all future ages.
When you handle your balance,
So vast are your talents
Like Atlas your wonderful strength is,
You know ev'ry state
To a barleycorn's weight,
For your steelyeard the continent's length is.
On Davila's page
Your discourses so sage,
Democratical numbskulls bepuzzle
With arguments tough,
As white leather or buff,
The Republican bulldogs to muzzle
'Tis labor in vain
Your senses to strain
Our brains any longer to muddle;
Like Colossus, you stride
O'er our noddles so wide,
We look up like frogs in a puddle.
June 19, 1793

92

Ode V

To a Truly Great Man

“Justum et tenacem propositi virum.”
Hor.

George—on thy virtues often have I dwelt,
And still the theme is grateful to mine ear:
Thy gold let chemists ten times over melt,
From dross and base alloy they'll find it clear.
Yet thou'rt a man—although perhaps the first;
But man, at best, is but a being frail;
And since with error human nature's curst,
I marvel not that thou should'st sometimes fail.
That thou hast long, and nobly served the State,
The nation owns, and freely gives thee thanks:
But, sir! whatever speculators prate,
She gave thee not the power t'establish banks.
No doubt, thou thought'st it was a phoenix nest,
Which Congress were so busy to build up,
But there a crocodile had fixed his rest,
And snapped the nation's bowels at a sup.
The greedy monster is not yet half cloyed,
Nor will he, whilst a leg or arm remains;
These parts the last of all should be destroyed;
The delicious morsel is her brains.
I trust thou'st seen the monster by this time,
And hast prepared thy knife to cut his throat;
His scales are so damned hard, that in thy prime,
'Twould take thee twenty years to make it out.

93

God grant thee life to do it! Fare thee well!
Another time examine well the nest,
Though of Arabia's spices it should smell,
It may produce some foul, infernal pest.
June 22, 1793

Ode VI

To Midas

Jonathan entreateth Midas not to starve the nation—proposeth a project for paying off the National Debt through the instrumentality of the S---y of the T---y.

Suae fortunae faber.

O greedy Midas! I've long since been told,
Whate'er you touched is instant turned to gold;
Thine alchemistic fingers, prithee, stop,
Or thou'lt not leave us all a single sop.
Those fingers from thy birth have been employed
With such well-timed precipitation,
That had the sacred college tried,
Thoud'st beat them all at transubstantiation.
Briareus had a hundred hands, but thou hast more,
Grasping at once this spacious globe around;
One hand embraces the Chinesian shore,
Beyond Ohio's banks another's found.
Mountains and rivers, rocks and sugar trees,
Nankeens and China, green and bohea teas,
Are instant turned to gold whene'er you please,
O spare untouched our codfish, rice and bacon,
Or else the continent must for forsaken.

94

Midas, much service might'st thou do the state,
Thy talents wert thou willing to exert;
Relieve the people from a grievous weight,
And give reward where there has been desert.
My project may appear a little bold;
But sure I am, 'twill pay off honest claims:
Touch H---n, and K---x, and F---r A---s,
And turn the speculators all to gold;
Let Congress send them straightway to the mint,
They'll pay our debts—or else the devil's in't.
June 29, 1793

Ode VII

To the Well-born

Under the type of the heathen gods Jonathan rehearseth the virtues of aristocracy.

Paree, precor, stimulis.
Ovid.

Sons of Olympus, all! I kiss your hands,
A stately company, as I'm a sinner!
My little godlings! what are your commands?
I hope you do not mean to stay to dinner.
We've no ambrosia here—plain beef and mutton
Your Godships' stomachs will most surely turn;
Not for our whiskey would you give a button;
Such home-brewed nectar you will spurn.
We have no Ganymedes—no wanton Venus,
Nor ugly cuckold Vulcan, for a buff;
No pimping Mercury to go between us,
Or pick our pockets, or our purses cut.

95

We have no Jupiter, with lust unbounded,
Our fair Alcmenes to seduce,
No drunken Bacchus with his tuns surrounded;
No Mars, God wot! can we produce.
We have no Proteus changing every hour,
As with his whim or interest stands,
No greedy Saturn to devour
His children in the midwife's hands.
We for your playmates have no little Cupid
To shoot at people when they're off their guard:
We mortals, truly, are so stupid
To think such treatment were a little hard.
Such fit companions you'll not find I swear;
Then why the devil should you tarry here?
Each embryo Romulus and Alexander,
So eager now to fill Fame's hundred trumpets,
Would deem it neither crime nor slander
To prove their virtuous mothers strumpets;
If bastards they will be reputed
Of gods that had their dads cornuted.
Ye would-be Phaetons, now so intent
To mount, and set us in a blaze,
Or drive us to the devil and all;
Trust me, you'd better be content,
For, ere you've tried it many days,
By G--- you'll get a fall.
July 3, 1793

96

Ode VIII

To Minos

------Jura Silentibus
Reddit.------.
Ovid.

Stern judge of shades! revisit'st thou this earth
To try us all, ere we have crossed the Styx?
Not only punishing our childish tricks,
But damning us, by wholesale, from birth!
As mortal bodies, states, no doubt, have souls,
Which brings them all within thy jurisdiction;
And since no earthly judge thy voice controls,
They must be damned, without a legal fiction.
Thine eminent domain, what state opposes,
Or dares remember it was sovereign once!
Since to the grindstone thou hast brought their noses,
Thoul't leave among them not a single sconce.
Their little corporations all shall melt
In the hot crucible that holds thy brains,
Till not a single particle remains
Of all the fancied sovereignty they've felt:
A voice shall then be heard in Congress Hall
States are no more—and we are all in all!!!
July 20, 1793

97

Ode IX

To Liberty

Jonathan addresseth his castoff mistress—pretendeth to have forgotten her name—revileth her groveling taste, furious temper and contempt for her betters—commandeth her not to disturb the peace, and driveth her beyond the Atlantic: but at parting seemeth half willing to be reconciled to her again.

In vitium Libertas excidit------
Hor.

Et Tuba terribilem Sonnitu Tarrantantara dixit------.
Virg.

O Thou! whatever be thy doubtful name,
Once dear to us, and still to Gallia dear,
Whose boisterous accents, fill the trump of Fame,
Accents which we have grown too deaf to hear:
Who didst, erewhile, in Congress Hall preside,
Each vote dictating to prevent mistakes,
Though now thine image there be thrown aside,
Doomed to oblivion in a filthy jakes:
Who didst in many a well-fought battle wave
Thy bloodstained banners o'er our fainting heads,
And from the jaws of death and ruin save
Full many a wight, that now thy presence dreads:
Who, when the din of war no more was heard,
Didst to the humble cottage straight retire,
And to imperial palaces preferred
Bar independence round a rural fire:

98

Who, when thou'rt wooed, art as a virgin mild,
Thine angel-visage all bedecked with smiles;
But when opposed, like a hyena wild
Thy savage fangs!—whose rage no art beguiles;
Who dost like death on all conditions look,
Nor spar'st a Stuart's or a Capet's head;
Nor fear'st this earth must some convulsion brook
For them; as if Tom Thumb the Great were dead;
Who at one stroke, hast thousands beggars made,
Of those whose Fortune's minions were before,
And left them, without wealth, or worth, or trade,
To starve—as they had millions starved before:
Who carest no more for coronets, or crowns,
Or any modern would-be lordling cit,
Alike condemning both their smiles and frowns,
Than if our Daddy-Vice had never writ—
Avaunt!—Nor let thy clarion grate our ears
With sounds, terrific as the final trump!
Sounds which once turned our pruning hooks to spears,
And from their scabbards caused our swords to jump:
Sounds! that should Congress listen, might appall
The stoutest champion there for right divine;
Recall thine image back to Federal Hall,
And to thy temple turn corruption's shrine:
Sounds! that might even tempt them to reward
The care-worn soldier's fears and wounds and woes,
Though S---h and A---s should think the measure hard,
And speculators turn from friends to foes:

99

Sounds! that perchance might e'en the Senate wake
From dreams of rank and titles, power and wealth;
Or bank director's gilded slumbers break,
And bring the Constitution back to health:
Sounds! that perchance might to the states recall
Some faint remembrance of lose sovereign rights,
Those rights, which mighty Atlas doomed to fall,
And which stern Minos banished from their sights:
Sounds! that might peradventure drive away
The faithful Britons from our western posts;
Those sentinels, who guard us night and day,
Our scalps defending from the Indian hosts:
Sounds! that perchance might prompt a silent wish
To aid their struggles, who once aided ours;
Nor, whilst thy cause is fighting, mute as fish
Behold the ambition of combining powers:
To France return!!! There shall thy brazen lungs
Yield music, sweeter than the Syren's voice,
Though louder far than Fame's twice fifty tongues,
And unborn millions at the sound rejoice.

100

There, wave thy banners!—there thy falchion wield!
There, lead to victory each gallant son!
There, let thy slaughtered foes bestrew the field!
Nor let e'en tyrants, there, thy vengeance shun!
Nay—though imperial crowns, and heads should fall,
Nor age, nor sex protect thy fiend-like foes,
Rather than thou should'st quit this earthly ball,
E'en Jonathan shall cry—God speed thy blows!!!
Aug. 14, 1793

Ode X

To the Democratical Society of Philadelphia

Jonathan reproveth the impertinent views of that institution—prophesieth concerning a would-be great man.—By comparison with the heavenly bodies, showeth the respective merits of the great heads.

Per insidias iter est, formasque ferarum.
Ovid.

Sons of sedition! say, what do you here,
Where peace and loyalty unrivaled reign?
Where wealth rewards the speculator's care,
And rank and place your groveling arts disdain.

101

Go watch the sun!—see his unfading light
Since time begun still unobscured remain!
Go watch his beauteous sister-orb of night!
Go watch the planets which compose his train!
Go plant your telescopes against each star
Whose radiant sphere illumes the vast profound!
Some blemish amongst them, shall easier far,
Than in our bright galaxy here, be found.
Not less in luster, as not less in size,
Than a dim planet to the orb of day,
Lo! next that height, to which he ne'er shall rise,
Our Vice like Mercury pursues his way.
Scowling malignant on the Indian plains,
Intent to set their wigwams all on fire,
See K---x like ruddy Mars his course maintains
Through lions, scorpions, and chimeras dire.
Hugest of planets that adorns our sphere,
Refulgent in his triple, golden zone,
See H---n like Jupiter appear,
With satellites around his paper throne.
Whilst on those minor orbs his light he sheds,
That borrowed light on him shall they reflect:
Nor whilst he pours down blessings on their heads,
With incense to repay shall they neglect.

102

Removed beyond the reach of vulgar eyes,
As far as human brains or thoughts aspire,
The self-illumined Minos sweeps the skies,
Like Saturn, freezing, midst his ring of fire.
Yon concave vast behold! where wolves and bears
And geese and foxes all together meet;
Say, if less bright, our Congress Hall appears,
Prepared for George to take his annual seat?
Cease then, ye elves of darkness, cease to pry
Into those secrets you're forbid to know;
Content yourselves to scrutinize the sky;
Presume not to enquire what's done below!
Aug. 9, 1793

Ode XI

To Atlas Being the Second Part of Ode II

Jonathan recanteth his former errors:—discloseth the secrets of a great assembly:—again doubteth, and concludeth with an apt simile.

Atlas! 'Tis true that once I said
You prop the states up, with your head;
But I was wrong to do't:
My recantation, then believe,
And trust me, what I now perceive,
You've trod them underfoot.

103

'Twas you that in Convention first
Pronounced the government accurst,
Whilst sovereign they remained:
Then boldly moved to knock them down,
And crush them all beneath a throne,
Or, to it have them chained.
Sure, 'twas enough to strike them dumb,
To put them under sheriff's thumb,
Like culprits vile and base:
What tho' they are not hang'd as yet;
Still, two to one, perhaps, you'd bet,
That it will be the case.
But after all—no doubt, I rate
Too high your influence in the state,
Nay, I'll be sworn, 'tis so:
The town clock tells us when we dine;
The weights that move its hands and thine
Play out of sight, below!
Aug. 11, 1793

104

Ode XII

Jonathan taketh his leave of his correspondents: apostrophiseth a great man without stain, and giveth to real merit, merit's due.

Majora canamus.
Virg.

Enough of Atlas! and the venal train
That 'round his paper shrine attendant meet:
Enough of Daddy Vice's fertile brain,
Titles and rank Prolific to create,
Prolific as Egyptian oven vast,
Where chickens, ducks and geese are hatched so fast!
Enough of the well-born! those lordling cits,
Who now presume so high to hold their heads:
Wretches, whose pride by far outweighs their wits,
Who, if they know, try to forget their dads;
Just as rank weeds that on a dung-hill grow,
Shoot up at once to hide the filth below,
As the philosopher in search of truth
With high contempt each base deception spurns;
As from the midnight punk the generous youth
To the chaste object of his passion turns;
As from a loathed disease returning health;
Or, as from beggary the joys of wealth;
As to the blind the newfound bliss of sight;
As to the galley-slave fair freedom's hand;
As from a dungeon the return of light;
As from a shipwreck the long wished for strand;—
My soul turns from them all with high disdain
To find in George true greatness without stain.
O Washington! for whom my willing lyre
Unbidden vibrates loudest notes of praise
When shall thy yet unrivaled worth inspire
Some emulations of thy glorious days!

105

Still, as a father to thy country dear,
Regard not those who seek to wound thy peace,
Nor to their impious falsehoods lend an ear,
Who would persuade thee her regards can cease.
Still at the helm go on our bark to steer,
Nor quit it, till thou leave thine equal there.
Aug. 12, 1793

A Supplementary Ode

Heu, quam difficile est crimen non prodere.
Ovid.

Tussis pro crepitu, no doubt an art is,
Not easy to translate in decent phrase;
But understood and practiced by the parties
That would be uppermost in modern days.
Thus moderate men, who twenty years ago
At independence frowned and made wry faces,
Of mother Britain's rights made much ado,
Meant nothing more, than just to keep their places.
So when our soldiers perished on the decks
Of prison ships,—or died by exaltation,
Vile Tories, trembling for their forfeit necks,
Loudly exclaimed against retaliation.

106

So when our Daddy Vice bewrought his brain
To tell us all of lords, and dukes, and kings,
No doubt His Worship counted all the gain
Which from preeminence and title springs.
So when our our triple-headed Publius barked,
Like Cerberus, at unbelieving Anty,
Each proselyte-monger for himself had marked
Of federal loaf and fish no portion scanty.
Thus A---s and S---h so eager to repair
The tattered remnant of our public credit,
To patch the garment better, thought it fair
On their own meager carcasses to spread it.
Thus Atlas to support his paper throne,
And give its faithful guards another sop,
To pay off France, proposed a further loan,
Gaps of instrumentality to stop.
Thus Antigallicans and British mongrels
Who at republican successes sweat,
Buzzing like swarms of flies from fifty dunghills,
Have neutrals turned to vilify Genet.

107

As Witches, hating people, to torment 'em
Stick pins in images that represent 'em.
And now, good folks, a dozen odes I've writ
(More by one-half than e'er I thought to write)
And if I have not always shown my wit,
No doubt you'll say that I have shown my spite:
Foe to all party but the public weal,
All secondary motives I disdain;
For ne'er shall worth my smarting satire feel,
Nor vice a plaudit from my hand obtain.
Farewell! perhaps when next our Congress meets,
Amongst them I may take a little peep;
Not to disturb their worships in their seats,
But just to see who wakes, and who's asleep.
Sept. 7, 1793

A Trip to St. James's, 1794

Lend me thy trumpet Fame! thy brazen lungs,
Thine hundred mouths, and eke thine hundred tongues!
My liver swells with vehement desire,
To tell such things as scarce will be believed;
Namely, the wonders that have been achieved,
Without the aid of sword or fire,
But in a modest, decent, civil way,
By our Extraordinary Envoy, Mr. Jay.

108

Say, muse, 'midst what acclaims he did set out,
Attended down to Whitehall stairs,
By thousands in their Sunday airs;
Who when he got on shipboard gave a shout:
The mighty blast filled the Ohio's sails,
Then homeward all the shouters turned their tails,
And left the ship in charge of Mr. Jay,
To sea-girt Britain's coast to make her way.
Swift as an arrow from an Indian's bow,
The ship across the Atlantic shot,
Swifter than ever ship was known to go,
And of her destination hit the very spot;
As proud of such immortal honor
As our great Envoy laid upon her;
Then to New York came straightway back to tell,
That in her charge she had succeeded well.
Now muse, let us return to Mr. Jay,
Who safe to London city found his way;
With ceremonial due then went to greet
Grenville's new lord, and Billy Pitt likewise,
Who viewed the Envoy Ex with wondering eyes,
Wondering what brought his Ex to Downing street;
Then promised soon to show him to the king,
To whom he might unfold the tidings he did bring.
Meantime Lord Grenville asks his Ex to dine,
An honor which his Ex could not decline:
There cheek by jowl with lords he sits in state,
With due decorum emptying every plate;
Then dinner done, the loyal glasses ring,
With loyal bumpers crowned, to George the king.
Now mount, O muse, on eagle's wings,
Attend with Mr. Jay the King of Kings.
The day was come, the weather wonderous fair,
When with Lord Grenville to St. James' Court
His Ex the Extra-Envoy did repair,
Of's errand and himself to make report.

109

The monarch saw—and turning to the queen,
“Look, look, there's Jay, there's Jay, there's Jay, I ween
From Congress come to make a bow;
I wonder if the dog knows how?”
His Ex advanced and made a bow by rule,
Which showed he had been at a dancing school;
The monarch then returned a monarch's nod,
Awful, no doubt, as the Olympian God;
When thus, in humble tone of supplication,
Did Mr. Jay begin his smooth oration.
“O Sire! permit a wight thy subject born,
His fellow subjects' sufferings to impart,
Nor from their wailings turn thine ear in scorn,
Like Egypt's king of old, of hardened heart.
“I did not like Moses come, with threats to fright,
Or daunt with spells and charms thy royal breast;
Our unfledged eagle, all too young for fight,
Sits, like the peaceful Halcyon, in its nest.
“She, like the peaceful Halcyon, went to glide
(If true the tale that's told of other times)
Borne on the azure bosom of the tide,
From shore to shore, from clime to distant climes.
“But mews and seagulls now disturb her rest,
And boobies strike her with their jobbernowls;
Voracious sharks assault her peaceful nest,
And warlike swordfish pierce it full of holes.
“Thou, who like Neptune, dost the trident sway,
Alone can'st quell those monsters of the main:
O! let thy clemency shine forth we pray,
And halcyon days prolong thy glorious reign!”

110

Meanwhile, a gracious ear the monarch lent
To Mr. Jay, and eke his compliment,
To which he condescended such reply,
As Billy Pitt dictated, by the bye.
Next to the queen his Ex did make his leg,
And with the king her intercession beg;
To which the queen returned two royal dips,
Though not a word escaped her royal lips;
Then to each prince and princess low he bowed,
As demagogue, when he salutes the crowd.
This done, the monarch gave a gracious grin,
And thus familiar question did begin.
“Well! since your independence you have got,
Are you much happier than before, or not?
Good salaries, and sinecures! hae, Mr. Jay!
Or are republicans too stingy, pray?
Does Mr. Washington, hae, wear a crown?
No, no, not yet, not yet, you'd knock him down.”
“Great sir,” cries Mr. Jay, “We han't, as yet,
A head among us that a crown would fit.”
“No, no, I guess not,” instant cried the king,
“His head, I'm sure's not fit for such a thing;
You're all republicans, hae, Mr. Jay,
All sans-culottes, no doubt, aye, aye, aye!”
To which his Extra-Ex did make reply,
In tone so sweet the king could but believe:
“Permit me, sire, your ears to undeceive;
That all are sans-culottes I dare deny,
Nor need I further prove what I advance,
Since I am here, O king, and not in France.”
The monarch, half-convinced, exclaimed “Egad!
If you were there, you'd chance to lose your head:
Han't you among you got the guillotine?
Yes, yes, I'm sure you have—myself and queen
Would soon among you all be lopt off short
As wheat in harvest—and as much in sport,

111

“I'm sure,” cries Mr. Jay, in accents sweet,
Confounded by what majesty had said;
“Your sacred heads, more precious far than wheat,
From scythes, or guillotines have naught to dread.”
“Godso! I doubt it much, upon my life!”
The sputtering monarch quick replied,
“A lowly tailor (can it be denied!)
Among you kicked my son that kissed his wife.”
“That fact,” cries Mr. Jay, “I can't deny.”
“No, no, no, that you can't, I, I, I, I!”
The monarch said, “for Neddy swore 'twas true.
And that the tailor beat him black and blue.”
The blushing queen here turned her head aside,
Blushing in part with shame, in part with pride;
Each bashful princess hung her lovely head,
And seemed to sympathize with brother Ned.
Now Billy Pitt and Grenville's lord began
To fear the monarch might betray the man;
For monarchs can sometimes like parrots talk.
As monkeys, on two legs, like monarchs walk.
So Grenville plucked the envoy by the sleeve,
And whispered it was time to take his leave.
Oct. 1794.

112

For the Washington Federalist A New Federal Song

The Jacobins have got the day
The Feds are homeward moving;
But when they come again this way,
There will be desperate shoving.
Yankee doodle, keep it up,
Yankee doodle dandy,
The Feds will never start a peg
Till cider turns to brandy.
Duke Braintree is to Quincy gone,
To study new defenses,
For spite of all the old he finds,
The folks have lost their senses.
Yankee doodle, etc.
There's Sedgewick quits his lofty seat
For better speculation,
Than can be found while surly Smith
Will print the Fed's orations.
Yankee doodle, etc.

113

There's Dayton gone to see his lands
And have them all surveyed, sirs,
But shortly he'll be here again,
With sword and black cockade, sirs.
Yankee doodle, etc.
There's Wolcott, he gives up the cash,
To sit upon the bench, sirs:
Like Felix, 'round the Jacobins
He'll work till he is weary.
Yankee Doodle, etc.
There's Otis leaves seditious laws,
To be the Fed attorney;
When in your tails he sticks his claws,
You'll wish the de'il to burn ye.
Yankee doodle, etc.
There's Griswold, he won't condescend,
To be war secretary;
But if you trust him with the cash
He'll work till he is weary.
Yankee doodle, etc.

114

There's Dexter fit for any thing;
Can preach on any text, sir;
Let John or Jefferson, be king,
You'll find him Ambidexter.
Yankee doodle, etc.
There's Read, and Green, and Hill, and More
Are all turned into judges,
For not a Fed, without a place,
From Congress homeward trudges;
Yankee doodle, etc.
But Bayard, he won't go to France
To see his gallant cousins,
Lest Heaper's wonderous tales and plots,
Should multiply by dozens,
Yankee doodle, etc.
There's Hamilton, he lies perdue,
With old sly Pickering, sirs,
In spite of all the fools can do,
They soon will have a kind, sirs.

115

Yankee doodle, etc.
Then, we shall sing, “God Save the King”;
Th' aristocrats and Tories,
And placemen all from south to north,
Will join, in joyful chorus.
Yankee doodle, keep it up,
Yankee doodle dandy,
The Feds will never start a peg
Till cider turns to brandy.
Mar. 3, 1801

116

A New Song

Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Come, who will buy Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! now going cheap!
Oh! what a chance to make a sweep!
And have a flock of Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
A thousand dollars for a sheep!
Merino sheep! I needs must weep,
To see them going all so cheap!
Oh! why did I bring Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Why sure, good folks, you're all asleep!
You will not buy Merino sheep!
Though now they're going all dog cheap!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
A thousand dollars for a sheep!
An hundred dollars for a sheep!
Come make a sweep, they're quite dog cheap,
Come, fifty dollars for a sheep!
It makes me weep, they are so cheap,
Come, twenty dollars for a sheep!
Come, take the whole and make a sweep
At fifteen dollars for a sheep!
And you shall have Merino sheep.
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Come, who will buy Merino sheep!
What glorious profits shall he reap,
That now will buy Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!

117

Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Who wants a flock of Merino sheep!
Oh! What a chance to make a sweep;
And get a flock of Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
A thousand dollars for a sheep!
Why sure, good folks, you're all asleep,
That you won't bid for Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Though here we offer them so cheap,
A thousand leagues across the deep,
We've brought these fine Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
An hundred dollars for a sheep!
It makes me weep, they are so cheap!
Why won't you bid for Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Come, fifty dollars for a sheep!
Come make a sweep! They're quite dog cheap
And you shall have Merino sheep!
Merino sheep!
Merino sheep! Merino sheep!
Come, thirty dollars for a sheep!
Come, take the whole and make a sweep,
At twenty dollars for a sheep,
Merino Sheep!
Come take the whole and make a sweep
At twenty dollars for a sheep!
Merino sheep!
[1810]

118

On Reading a Letter From a Very Sprightly Lady, Disclaiming All Ideas of Love, and Matrimony, to a Particular Friend

More tranquil than the western breeze,
Which fans in spring the blooming trees,
My breast (the lovely Delia cried),
Will ever be, on the left side,
Where Cupid's arrows enter.
Agreed! the sprightly Laura said,
But, tell me, thou dear charming maid,
How is it,—at the center?
Apr., 1810

The Virginia Patriot's Invitation to His Customers

Come all who love a savory dish,
Here's codfish, cheese, and liver!
There's no such liver, cheese, or fish,
South of Potomac river.
'Tis wholesome food for every day,
And for a feast on Sunday,
It is superior every way,
To New York salmagundi.
Whoever tastes this wholesome dish,
Shall strait grow wondrous wise;
For, like the gall of Tobit's fish,
It opens blindmen's eyes.

119

Some Yankee cheese, as story tells,
Killed all the Havana rats;
Our dish, that famous cheese excells,
Destroying Democrats.
All ye who now refuse to store
Yourselves with such a hoard,
Nor codfish, cheese, nor Livermore,
Shall ever grace your board.
Apr., 1810