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 Th' extorting Maters their jut hopes Retrain,

And Diligence is no where more in vain.

The Little Chiefs, for what they call their due,

Eat up the Farme and eat the Farmer too;

Suck the Life-Blood, of Tennant and Etate,

And needles Poverty to both create.

Mitake their Int'ret, Nati'nal Ills procure,

And make the Poor be very very poor.

Th unhappy Drudge, yet bears the mighty Load,

With trange unnat'ral Temperance endow'd,

So ervile, o unu'd to Liberty;

He eems the lat, that wihes to be free,

Prepotrous Wonder!

Where will Nature run,

That Men hould Struggle to be twice Undone;