University of Virginia Library

The Morning come, the Slaves await,
And flock like Bees 'bout W---l Gate.
Some yok'd, like Country Hogs appear;
Others confounded Fetters wear,
And some most horrid Burdens bear.
Thus loaded, thus enslav'd, opprest;
Nature, 'tis strange, don't call for rest:
Tho Legs are gall'd, and Shoulders sore,
The bulky Slaves still crave for more:
And not an Ideot of the Town
Has Sense to lay his Burden down.
Strait Puss in Majesty appears,
Mounting the Scaffold, pricks her Ears,
Shakes her Majestick Head, aloud
She thus bespoke the num'rous Crowd.

I have deserted long the nauseous Town,
Mourning my Country's Ruin, and my own,
Expos'd to Tyranny, whilst Beasts of prey
Ravage my Fields, and steal my Lambs away.
My Free-born Subjects now are forc'd to bear
Loads, which more fit for backs of Camels are;
You well deserve the Fetters you do wear.
You under heavy Iron Shackles pine,
Whose Fathers did in glorious Armor shine,
Thro' fields of Blood to Freedom cut their way,
And taught the proudest Tyrants to obey;
By me supported, potent Tyrants sell
A Sacrifice to their just Cause and Hell.
No more, no more their sacred Lineage stain,
No more their Names in your curst Race profane.
Let not their Off-spring such Alliance have,
Shackles were ne'er the Trophies of the Brave;
They could wide Conquests, and just Honors boast,
But you, dull Slaves! have all your Freedom lost.
Where 'ere a Tyrant rais'd his impious Head,
Strait their bold Hands strook the damn'd Monster dead.
Had you a spark of antient Honor left,
You should not long be of my Aid bereft;
My Claws are hard and sharp as e'er they were,
As fit a Tyrant and his Rats to tear.
The Villains that support a Tyrant Crown,
This angry Tail will horridly sweep down;
Shake off your Fetters once, and you shall see,
I'll once more save you from curst Slavery.

She said, and away she gallop'd amain,
But in hopes they their Sense would recover again;
For a Doctor will never the Fatigue endure,
To heal such dull Blockheads, that don't love the Cure.