Page:History of the United States of America, Spencer, v1.djvu/544

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 * Like Hercules to purge the land,
 * Their tyrants striving to kick down,
 * Intend to act in combination
 * Who, by perverting law and reason,
 * With th' other forces of the nation,
 * Allegiance construe into treason,
 * Displaying wide thro' every quarter
 * Religion, too, is often made
 * What Britain's justice would be after.
 * A stalking horse to drive the trade,
 * It is not difficult to show it,
 * And warring churches dare implore,
 * And every mother's son must know it,
 * Protection from th' Almighty power;
 * That what she meant at first to gain
 * They fast and pray; in Providence
 * By requisitions and chicane,
 * Profess to place their confidence;
 * She's now determin'd to acquire
 * And vainly think the Lord of all
 * By kingly reason; sword and fire.
 * Regards our squabbles on this ball;
 * I can appeal to all your senses,
 * Which would appear as droll in Britain
 * Your judgments, feelings, tastes and fancies;
 * As any whim that one could hit on;
 * Your ears and eyes have heard and seen,
 * Men's consciences are set at naught,
 * How causeless this revolt has been;
 * Nor reason valued at a great;
 * And what a dust your leaders kick up;
 * And they that will not swear and fight,
 * In this rebellious civil hickup,
 * Must sell their all, and say good night.
 * And how, upon this curs'd foundation,
 * By such important views there pres't to
 * Was rear'd the system of vexation
 * I issue this my manifesto.
 * Over a stubborn generation.
 * I, the great knight of de la Mancha,
 * But now inspired with patriot love
 * Without 'Squire Carleton, my Sancho,
 * I come, th' oppression to remove;
 * Will tear you limb from limb assunder,
 * To free you from the heavy clog
 * With cannon, blunderbuss and thunder;
 * Of every tyrant demagogue,
 * And spoil your feathering and your tarring
 * Who for the most romantic story,
 * And cagg you up for pickled herring.
 * Claps into limbo loyal Tory,
 * In front of troops as spruce as beaux,
 * All hurly burly, hot and hasty,
 * And ready to lay on their blows,
 * Without a writ to hold him fast by;
 * I'll spread destruction far and near;
 * Nor suffers any living creature,
 * And where I cannot kill, I 'll spare,
 * [Led by the dictates of his nature,]
 * Inviting, by these presents, all,
 * To fight in green for Britain's cause,
 * Both young and old, and great and small,
 * Or aid us to restore her laws;
 * And rich and poor, and Whig and Tory,
 * In short, the vilest generation
 * In cellar deep, or lofty story;
 * Which in vindictive indignation,
 * Where'er my troops, at my command
 * Almighty vengeance ever hurl'd
 * Shall swarm like locusts o'er the land.
 * From this to the infernal world.
 * (And they shall march from the North Pole
 * A Tory cannot move his tongue,
 * As far, at least, as Pensacole,)
 * But whip, in prison he is flung,
 * So break off their communications,
 * His goods and chattels made a prey,
 * That I can save their habitations;
 * By those vile mushrooms of a day,
 * For finding that Sir William's plunders,
 * He's tortured, too, and scratch'd and bit,
 * Prove in the event apparent blunders,
 * And plung'd into a dreary pit;
 * It is my full determination,
 * Where he must suffer sharper doom,
 * To check all kinds of depredation;
 * Than e'er was hatched by Church of Rome.
 * But when I've got you in my pow'r,
 * These things are done by rogues, who dare
 * Favor'd is he, I last devour.
 * Profess to breathe in Freedom's air.
 * From him who loves a quiet life,
 * To petticoats alike and breeches
 * And keeps at home to kiss his wife,
 * Their cruel domination stretches,
 * And drinks success to king Pigmalion,
 * For the sole crime, or sole suspicion
 * And calls all Congresses Rabscallion,
 * [What worse is done by th' inquisition?]
 * With neutral stomach eats his supper,
 * Of still adhering to the crown,
 * Nor deems the contest worth a cooper;
 * }
 * Almighty vengeance ever hurl'd
 * Shall swarm like locusts o'er the land.
 * From this to the infernal world.
 * (And they shall march from the North Pole
 * A Tory cannot move his tongue,
 * As far, at least, as Pensacole,)
 * But whip, in prison he is flung,
 * So break off their communications,
 * His goods and chattels made a prey,
 * That I can save their habitations;
 * By those vile mushrooms of a day,
 * For finding that Sir William's plunders,
 * He's tortured, too, and scratch'd and bit,
 * Prove in the event apparent blunders,
 * And plung'd into a dreary pit;
 * It is my full determination,
 * Where he must suffer sharper doom,
 * To check all kinds of depredation;
 * Than e'er was hatched by Church of Rome.
 * But when I've got you in my pow'r,
 * These things are done by rogues, who dare
 * Favor'd is he, I last devour.
 * Profess to breathe in Freedom's air.
 * From him who loves a quiet life,
 * To petticoats alike and breeches
 * And keeps at home to kiss his wife,
 * Their cruel domination stretches,
 * And drinks success to king Pigmalion,
 * For the sole crime, or sole suspicion
 * And calls all Congresses Rabscallion,
 * [What worse is done by th' inquisition?]
 * With neutral stomach eats his supper,
 * Of still adhering to the crown,
 * Nor deems the contest worth a cooper;
 * }
 * To petticoats alike and breeches
 * And keeps at home to kiss his wife,
 * Their cruel domination stretches,
 * And drinks success to king Pigmalion,
 * For the sole crime, or sole suspicion
 * And calls all Congresses Rabscallion,
 * [What worse is done by th' inquisition?]
 * With neutral stomach eats his supper,
 * Of still adhering to the crown,
 * Nor deems the contest worth a cooper;
 * }
 * With neutral stomach eats his supper,
 * Of still adhering to the crown,
 * Nor deems the contest worth a cooper;
 * }
 * }
 * }