How couldst thou, fimple Clare! that ifle abuse, 176
Which prompts and pays thy linfey-woolfey mufe?
Mistaken peer
! Her treafures ne'er can cease,
Did the not long pay Viry for our peace?
Say, did fhe not, till rang the royal knell,
Irradiate veftal Majesty at Zell?

175

Sure then the might afford, to my poor thinking, One golden tumbler, for Queen Charlotte's drinking.

1

Shall Irish hinds to mutton make pretenfions? 180
Be theirs potatoes, and be ours their penfions.
If they refufe, great North, by me advis'd,
Enact, that each potatoe be excis'd.

Ah! hadft thou, North, adopted this fage plan, And fcorn'd to tax each British ferving-man, 185 Thy friend Macgreggor, when he came to town, (As poets fhould do) in his chaife and one,

Had feen his foot-boy Sawney, once his pride,
On ftant Scotch poney trotting by his fide,
With frock of fuftian, and with cape of red, 190
Nor grudg'd the guinea tax'd upon his head.
But tufh, I heed not-for my country's good
I'll pay it it will purchase Yankee blood-→→
And well I ween, for this heroic lay,
Almon will give me wherewithal to pay.

Tax then, ye greedy minifters, your fill:
No matter, if with ignorance or skill.
Be ours to pay, and that's an easy task,

195

In these bleft times to have is but to ask.
Ye know, whate'er is from the public preft, 200
Will fevenfold fink into your private cheft.

For

For he, the nurfing father, that receives,.
Full freely tho' he takes, as freely gives.
So when great Cox, at his mechanic call,
Bids orient pearls from golden dragons fall, 205
Each little dragonet, with brazen grin,
Gapes for the precious prize, and gulps it in.,
Yet when we peep behind the magic fcene,
One mafter-wheel directs the whole machine:
The self-fame pearls, in nice gradation, all 210
Around one common centre, rife and fall.

Thus may our ftate-mufeum long furprife;
And what is funk by votes in bribes arise
Till mock'd and jaded with the puppet-play,
Old England's genius turns with fcorn away, 215
Afcends his facred bark, the fails unfurl'd,
And fteers his ftate to the wide western world:
High on the helm majeftic Freedom stands,..
In act of cold contempt fhe waves her hands.
Take, flaves, fhe cries the realms that I difown, 220
Renounce your birth-right, and deftroy my throne.
ODE

Ver. 211. Around one common centre.) I was let into this fecret by my late patron, Sir William Chambers; who, as Mr. Cox's automata were very much in the Chinese tafte, was very curious to difcover their mechanism. I must do the Knight the juftice to own that fome of my best things are borrowed from him.