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H, Peace! ascend again thy throne,
 * Resume the spotless olive-leaf,

Display thy snowy muslin gown, And wave o’er this distracted town
 * Thy cambric pocket-handkerchief!

Or, if thou dost not like the dress
 * (We own we have our doubts upon it),

Come like some pretty Quakeress, And let thine orbs of quietness
 * Shine, dove-like, from a satin bonnet!

We need thee, row-abhorring maid!
 * The dogs of party bark alarms,

And e’er the Battery tax is laid, And e’er the next election’s made,
 * E’en Murray’s Guards will rush to arms.

Feds, Coodies, Bucktails,38 all in flame,
 * With peals of nonsense frighten thee;