University of Virginia Library

When the wise ruler of Glubdubdrib's isle
Had entertain'd Sir Gulliver awhile,
With various spectacles of ancient days,
Kings crown'd with gold, and poets deck'd with bays;
Sages with pupils, tyrants with their slaves,
Heroes and traitors, senators and knaves;
When each instructive lesson was express'd,
And the rich banquet had suffic'd the guest:
Then wav'd the great controuler of the dead
His magic ensign, and the vision fled.

Have we less pow'r o'er that infernal crew
Which lately pass'd before us in review?
Our invocation summon'd up the pack:
Our potent word can send them headlong back.
Ye coxcomb Congressmen, declaimers keen,
Brisk puppets of the Philadelphia scene;
Ye numerous chiefs, who can or cannot fight;
Ye curious scribes, who can or cannot write;
Ye lawyers who, for law, confusion teach;
Ye preachers who, for gospel, discord preach;
Statesmen, who rule as none e'er ruled before,—
Mark, I dismiss you to the Stygian shore:
Away, fantastic, visionary throng!
Come, sober Reason, and direct the song.

But what can Reason in a world like this?
For one that plauds her, millions hate and hiss.
She shines, 'tis true, with ever blooming charms;
Peace in her look, and pleasure in her arms;
But not a guinea has she to bestow,
And men avoid her as a mortal foe.
Who without wealth would take her for a bride?
James Smith from childhood has her pow'r defied;
Hartley and Dickinson, as best may suit,
With, or without her, by the hour dispute;
'Tis said that once, on Burgoyne's strange affair,
She spake her mind, and made the Congress stare:
Perhaps with Laurens, (did not Laurens sell
His virtue for a name), she'd love to dwell.

Amidst the war of words, the roar of lungs;
The barbarous outcry of confederate tongues,
Seditious, busy, turbulent, and bold;
Votes to be bought, opinions to be sold,
What chance has Reason?—her soft voice in vain
May plead, lament, expostulate, complain;
With heav'n-born eloquence should angels speak,
Against the crisis Heav'n itself were weak:
Howl, all ye fiends, and all ye devils, bawl!
Will. Henry Drayton shall outdo you all.

When civil madness first from man to man
In these devoted climes like wildfire ran;
There were who gave the moderating hint,
In conversation some, and some in print:
Wisely they spake, and what was their reward?
The tar, the rail, the prison, and the cord.

Ev'n now there are, who bright in Reason's dress
Watch the polluted Continental press:
Confront the lies that Congress sends abroad;
Expose the sophistry, detect the fraud.
Truth's genuine maxims forcibly display:
Chandler and Coxe are proofs of what I say.

But knights of old, who wander'd thro' the world,
And fell destruction on enchanters hurl'd;
Slew fiery dragons, giants overcame,
And sav'd from ruin many a peerless dame;
Play'd not so deep, so desperate a stake,
As he who draws the pen for Virtue's sake.

For once the monster slain, the spell was broke;
And joy succeeded to the daring stroke:
The ladies bless'd their lovers with their charms,
And the knight rested from his feats of arms.

But error may not with such ease be quell'd;
She rallies fresh her force tho' oft repell'd.
Cut, hack'd, and mangled, she denies to yield,
And strait returns with vigour to the field:
Champions of truth, our efforts are in vain;
Fast as we slay, the foe revives again.
Vainly th' enchanted castle we surprize;
New monsters hiss, and new enchantments rise.
Was Samuel Adams to become a ghost,
Another Adams would assume his post:
Was bustling Hancock number'd with the dead,
Another full as wise might raise his head:
What if the sands of Laurens now were run,
How should we miss him—has he not a son?
Or what if Washington should close his scene,
Could none succeed him?—Is there not a Green?
Knave after knave as easy we could join,
As new emissions of the paper coin.
When it became the high United States
To send their envoys to Versailles' proud gates,
Were not three ministers produc'd at once?
Delicious group—fanatic, deist, dunce.
And what if Lee, and what if Silas fell,
Or what if Franklin should go down to hell;
Why should we grieve? the land, 'tis understood,
Can furnish hundreds equally as good.

When like a hill convuls'd, whose womb has nurs'd
Internal fires, the constitution burst;
What strange varieties we daily saw—
What prodigies of policy and law!
See in committees Ignorance preside;
Conventions met, and Folly was their guide;
Plan follow'd plan, first, second, and the third,
More barb'rous who can say, or more absurd.
With full consent, poor Reason was dethron'd;
The mad-man govern'd, and the wise man groan'd.
But why blot paper with these idle schemes?
Or why enum'rate undigested dreams?

Expose an opal to the solar ray,
And mark the beams that momentary play:
See the gay stone, in mimic robes array'd,
Glow in the red or in the purple fade;
In swift progression vary to the sight,
And run thro' all the different modes of light.
Go then, and count the colours as they rise;
Tell, if thou canst, the numbers of the dyes;
Each combination of the fluid mass;
Nor let the shifting of a sun-beam pass.
This once accomplish'd, thy sagacious pen
May note the phrenzies of impatient men,
The bands of faith and loyalty who break,
And roam the fields of popular mistake.
Truce with these flow'rs—the Times are out of joint;
Hence trifling—come we closer to the point:
Some muse attendant on th' eternal King,
Truth's radiant mirror for my guidance bring.
I ask not now the thunder and the fire;
The still small voice is all that I desire.

Stand forth, Taxation—kindler of the flame;
Inexplicable question, doubtful claim:
Suppose the right in Britain to be clear;
Britain was mad to exercise it here.
Call it unjust, or, if you please, unwise;
The Colonists were mad in arms to rise:
Impolitic, and open to abuse,
How could it answer—what could it produce?
No need for furious demagogues to chafe;
America was jealous, and was safe.
Secure she stood in national alarms,
And Madness only would have flown to arms.
Arms could not help the tribute, nor confound:
Self-slain it must have tumbled to the ground.
Impossible the scheme should e'er succeed,
Why lift the spear against a brittle reed?

But arm they would, ridiculously brave;
Good laughter, spare me; I would fain be grave:
So arm they did—the knave led on the fool;
Good anger, spare me; I would fain be cool:
Mixtures were seen amazing in their kind;
Extravagance with cruelty was joined.
The presbyterian with the convict march'd;
The meeting-house was thinn'd, the gaol was search'd:
Servants were seiz'd, apprentices enroll'd;
Youth guarded not the boy, nor age the old:
Tag, rag, and bobtail issued on the foe,
Marshal'd by generals—Ewin, Roberdeau.

This was not Reason—this was wildest rage,
To make the land one military stage:
The strange resolve, obtain'd the Lord knows how,
Which forc'd the farmer to forsake the plough;
Bade tradesmen mighty warriors to become,
And lawyers quit the parchment for the drum;
To fight they knew not why, they knew not what;
Was surely Madness—Reason it was not.

Next independence came, that German charm,
Of pow'r to save from violence and harm;
That curious olio, vile compounded dish,
Like salmagundy, neither flesh nor fish;
That brazen serpent, rais'd on Freedom's pole,
To render all who look upon it whole;
That half-dressed idol of the western shore,
All rags behind, all elegance before;
That conj'rer, which conveys away your gold,
And gives you paper in its stead to hold.

Heav'ns! how my breast has swell'd with painful throb
To view the phrenzy of the cheated mob:
True sons of liberty in flattering thought;
But real slaves to basest bondage brought:
Frantic as Bacchanals in ancient times,
They rush'd to perpetrate the worst of crimes;
Chas'd peace, chas'd order from each bless'd abode;
While Reason stood abash'd, and Folly crow'd.
Now, now erect the rich triumphal gate;
The French alliance comes in solemn state:
Hail to the master-piece of madness, hail;
The head of glory with a serpent's tail!
This seals, America, thy wretched doom:
Here, Liberty, survey thy destin'd tomb:
Behold, the temple of tyrannic sway
Is now complete—ye deep-ton'd organs, play;
Proclaim thro' all the land that Louis rules—
Worship your saint, ye giddy-headed fools.

Illustrious guardians of the laurel hill,
Excuse this warmth, these sallies of the quill:
I would be temperate, but severe disdain
Calls for the lash whene'er I check the rein:
I would be patient, but the teazing smart
Of insects makes the fiery courser start.
I wish'd for Reason in her calmest mood,
In vain—the cruel subject fires my blood.
When thro' the land the dogs of havock roar,
And the torn country bleeds in every pore,
'Tis hard to keep the sober line of thought:
The brain turns round with such ideas fraught.
Rage makes a weapon blunt as mine to pierce,
And indignation gathers in the verse.

More yet remains, of sense and honour stain'd;
Conventions broken, flags of truce detain'd:
A thousand foolish freaks my wrath provoke;
A thousand culprits ought to feel my stroke.
To treat of villains were exceeding hard,
And not to mention once thy name, Gerard.
But 'twere the work of Hercules to sweep
From the rank stable this enormous heap.

Such are the times—Cease, useless Satire, cease!
Each moment dire barbarities increase.
Ev'n while I write, a monster fierce and huge
Has fix'd his station in the land of Googe;
Virginian caitiff! Jefferson by name;
Perhaps from Jefferies sprung of rotten fame.
His savage letter all belief exceeds,
And Congress glories in his brutal deeds.
In the dark dungeon Hamilton is thrown:
The virtuous hero there disdains to groan:
There with his brave companions, faithful friends,
Th' approaching hour in silence he attends,
When, with his council, shall the wretch expire
Or by the British, or celestial fire!

O! may that hour be soon! for pity's sake,
Genius of Britain, from thy slumber wake,
Too long has Mercy spoke, but spoke in vain:
Let Justice now in awful terror reign.

Am I deceiv'd, or see I in the east
Tenfold the radiance of the day increas'd?
Britannia's guardian angel greets my eye,
In all th' unclouded lustre of the sky.
See his right hand a two edg'd weapon wield:
The double cross shines brilliant on his shield;
Hear him, ye just, and in his words rejoice:
Ye hearts of rancour, tremble at his voice.

‘Yet, yet a little, and the door of grace
‘Must close for ever on an impious race:
‘The sun that visits these unhappy climes,
‘Is weary to behold incessant crimes:
‘Angels, appointed from the Throne divine
‘To guard the land, their hopeless charge resign:
‘No more their gentle pleadings interpose;
‘Yet, yet a little, and the door shall close.

‘Ungrateful country, by my arms secur'd!
‘In thy behalf what have I not endur'd?
‘When from my grasp the sceptre thou wouldst rend—
‘From me, thy patron, thy protecting friend—
‘Did I not check my thunder in mid-air;
‘Far less inclin'd to punish than to spare?
‘Have I not labour'd ceaseless to reclaim
‘Thy frantic sons from misery and shame?
‘With bounty carried to excess I strove
‘Thy doubts, however causeless, to remove:
‘As speaks a father to his only child,
‘Amidst repeated provocations mild;
‘So have I wish'd thy errors to forgive,
‘And bid thee turn from wickedness, and live.

‘For this thy malice, swelling like a flood,
‘Has overpass'd all bounds, and foam'd with blood.
‘Outrage has follow'd outrage, shocking sight!
‘And streets have echoed, pulpits teem'd with spite.
‘The raving calumny, the dirty lie,
‘Treach'rous escape, assassination sly;
‘All monstrous crimes, which fiends themselves reject,
‘Within thy walls claim'd honour and respect.
‘Whatever honest, peaceable, or pure,
‘Dwelt in thy reach, to feel thy hate was sure:
‘The virtuous man was odious to the cause,
‘And he who sinn'd the most, gain'd most applause.
‘At length the day of Vengeance is at hand:
‘Th' exterminating Angel takes his stand:
‘Hear the last summons, rebels, and relent:
‘Yet but a moment is there to repent.
‘Lo! the great Searcher ready at the door,
‘Who means decisively to purge his floor:
‘Yes, the wise Sifter now prepares the fan
‘To separate the meal from useless bran.
‘Down to the centre from his burning ire
‘Ye foes of goodness and of truth, retire:
‘And ye, who now lie humbled in the dust,
‘Shall raise your heads, ye loyal and ye just;
‘Th' approving sentence of your Sov'reign gain,
‘And shine refulgent as the starry train.
‘Then, when eternal justice is appeas'd;
‘When with due vengeance heav'n and earth are pleas'd;
‘America, from dire pollution clear'd,
‘Shall flourish yet again, belov'd, rever'd:
‘In duty's lap her growing sons be nurs'd,
‘And her last days be happier than her first.’