Then shall my lofty numbers tell,
Who taught the royal babes to spell,
And sovereign arts pursue :
To mend a watch, or set a clock,
New patterns shape for Hervey's frock,
Or buttons make at Kew.
Quae cura Patrum, quaeve Quiritum
Plenis honorum muneribus tuas
Auguste, virtutes in aevum
Fer titulos memoresque fastos
THE various triumphs of our King
Distract the Muse :-she pants to sing,
And wanton in his praise :
Say, can the JERSEYS boast a cow?
AESOPUS' towers to Vaughan bow;
-Ev'n Burgoyne saw the blaze!
Bind laurels round our VARRO's brows,
Speed joyful tidings to the Howes,
That Gates's army droops;
In victory they feel disgrace,
And shrink abash'd, afraid to face
-Disarm'd-indignant troops.
Hunger alone makes Britons yield;
With bellies full, they brave the field,
And scorn capitulation!
But Arnold play'd the very thief,
Stole off their pudding, bread and beef,
So took them by starvation!
Sir William's conquests raise a smile,
LO, RED-BANK yields, and eke MUD ISLE,
Which Hessians storm'd-pell-mell!
The ditch was wet-they had no bladders,
The wall was high-they had no ladders,
So Donop fought and fell!
We've scalps to grace the new knights' collars,
Reduc'd in price-to just three dollars,
Our Indians found such game:
Will North desert the glorious chace,
Give up the war, resign his place,
And end his days with shame ?
To Adams ope St. James's gates,
As envoy from the Rising States!
'Twould give our Liege the gripes;
Ask valiant Gambier if it's fit
That Ocean Queen should e'er submit
To thirteen rebel stripes?
No, pour out Britain's blood and riches,
Take hungry Donald without breeches,
And coax bold Kate of Russia?
Ally with negroes, gypsies, Danes,
Stab with Scotch Dirks, and Irish Skanes,
And scorn the King of Prussia.
We'll make the house of Bourbon dance
When Yankey-land is join'd to France,
Be Britain's thunder hurl'd:
In triumph let our navy ride,
Whilst vaunting Sandwich cries with pride, 'Old England 'gainst the world.'
How are thy subjects, Albion, blest!
The East as happy as the West,
As Pigot's ghost will tell us :
If on one hero's acts I dwell,
With envy every Scot would swell,
And Lovat's clan be jealous.
What though our debt the greater grows,
We always may defy our foes,
Ev'n when our credit's shaking:
For if the Dutch will lend no more,
We'll pay Mynheer the heavy score,
And clear ourselves by breaking.
Why should we whiggish zealots fear?
His grace of York and cropt Shebbeare,
Are royal scribes appointed;
Passive obedience they will preach,
From all the loyal texts that teach
To love the Lord's anointed.
Moral Gazettes spread law and truth,
To check the venom that our youth
Suck in from Woodfall's paper:
Both houses should the king address,
To grant an imprimateur-press :
No JUNIUS then will vapour.
Send Saville, Barré, Burke, to jail,
No Habeas Corpus, and no bail ;-
Will then old Chatham riot?
From dungeons dark the Yankeys turn,
At Smithfield every rebel burn,
And give the nation quiet.
To Cranmer's stake be Adams ty'd, Mild Markham preaching by his side, The traitor's heart will gain;
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