Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

III.

Don't rob the orchard (tho' you've power)
The Boston apples yet are sour,

And apt to purge and gripe :
The loyal Yankies for your use,
Would give and grant the genial juice,

You'd fteal the fruit-unripe.

IV.

The saints, alas ! have waxen strong!'
In vain your prayers and godly song,

To quell the rebel rout!
Within his lines skulks valiant Gage,
Like Yorick’s starling in the cage,
He cries, “ I can't

get

out. V.

Why will the Cabinet always blunder,
Dull Leadenhall you still may plunder,

And ne'er can want pretensions ;.
Seapoys and Nabobs can't refift,
A vote will pay the Civil Lift,
And + Bogs will furnish pensions.

VI.

.

But Itubborn Yankies let alone,
They hurl defiance at the throne,

And

+ Ireland,

And all your schemes unsettle:
To mark your Act with more difgrace,
They fing their tea-pots in your face,

And scald you with the kettle.

[blocks in formation]

My Lord, I hail your spotless fame';
A Civil Poft, and change of name,

Have walh'd away all fin :
The German flough no more prevails,
For serpent like, you've cast your scales,

And shine in a new-fhin.

Tho' fallen from a splendid station,
You both surprize and please the nation,

Your zeal they still applaud :
Sentenc'd no more to blaze in arms,
As an old trull with tarnish'd charms,

You turn a useful Bawd!

Bred in a Priest's Socratic school,
Youth's fervid passions train'd to cool,

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

And virtue's lore endear ;
He bid you ne'er fight face to face,
But mark the foe with mere disgrace,

By charging in the rear.
GERMAINE, in combats often try'd,
Britannia's troops in triumph guide,

War's glorious art improving! Bend Rebel Yankies to our will, Display again your martial skill,

And conquer without moving !
Your Smiths, and Cuninghams review,
All honourable men, and true ;

Staunch as intrepid Barré !
Your great exploits brisk Ned will boast,
Make him official Penny Poft,

He'll tattle, fetch and carry.
Your Levees grac'd by heroes now,
Their Major Sturgeon strives to bow,

Your {plendour Philips fees!
The Scotch all puff you to a man,
Mac-Gregor's + Chief presents a 5 Plan,
With under-wood, and trees.

Throw Whoever Mr. Foote might have designed by this ludi. cous character, yet the candid reader may reft affured, that neither General Harvey nor Colonel Philips are alluded to.

+ Colonel R. $ Lord George complained that a plan was sent over of

Throw out a lure for Ferdinand !
Inveft him with supreme command,

At Boston fix his station;
Then Zanga likę (right well I ween)
You'll gratify revenge and spleen,

And end him by ll Starvation.

Or claim your rank-degrade Tom Gage,
A windmill now can't check your rage,

Or freeze your generous blood;
Lead forth the horse to Roxburg town,
And drive full gallop to renown,

Except you meet a wood.

Cou'd you keen Junius' thoughts refine, Whose dangerous Thafts, like lightning shine,

And pierce whom-e'er they hit; We all may think you---just as stout, Your treachery too we never doubt,

We only doubt your Wit?

The smart of Minden's wound is o'er,
You've got Court-plaister for that sore,

And the battle of Minden, in which the imperv'ous wood that obstructed the march of the cavalry was omitted.. --The name of the malicious engineer who drew it, I now forget.

# Mr. Dundas, Lord Advocate of Scotland invenit & fculpfit this harmonious and expressive word, which fo juftly and characteristically pourtrays both the features of his coustry and countrymen,

And yet my Lord I'm thinking ;
Bold JOHNSTON E * some reward may claim,
His powder fav'd your tainted fame,

Joft on the point of stinking.

ON SOME LATE PUBLICATIONS.

[ocr errors]

CURS'd be the pen by fa&tion sway'd,
The tool of blind invective made,

The foe to virtuous fame,
That dares amongst the mean and base,
With more than German rancour place

Much injur'd SACKVILLE's name.
When half America was lost,
And timid DARTMOUTH left his post,

He took the dang'rous lead;
To vindicate insulted laws,
And hazard in his country's cause,

His fortunes and his head.
With affluence blest, and bleft with friends,
Connected for no selfish ends,

His happiness was home;
He knew the joys of private life,
He lov'd his children and his wife,
Nor wish'd abroad to roam.

Already
Allud-s to the duel between Lord Sackville and Go.
Teroor Jobafone, Dec, 17, 1770,

« ElőzőTovább »