From courtiers burft thofe flaming ills;
And Patriots, brib'd by Congress bills,
Were ripe for revolution!

-A fpell at length a Scotch + witch threw;
The army, constables all grew,

And fav'd the Constitution.

Now, for more Knights each county cries!
As those they have a'n't very wife,

The cause of all our forrows;

This point Old Sarum's Pitt will touch,
Whilft young Will'--lights his father's crutch
To fire the rotten Boroughs.

But left ftate creditors fhould fqueak,
Let Sh-lb-ne fave the ftate, and break

Th' ungrateful Dutch, confound them!
-As reynard wife, he'll trick fuch foes,
Who lur'd the fleas up to his nofe,

Then took a plunge and drown'd them.

Fitzmaurice still shall grace my lays,
No dupe, like North, to public praise,

* Lord Shelburne proved this beyond a poffibility of doubt in his excellent fpeech on that occafion.

† Lord Mansfield's doctrine, that every foldier, by the common law of England, has a right to use his musket and bayonet for the preservation of the peace, any thing therein contained to the contrary thereof notwithstanding.

Parts-

Parts-honour---wit---miscarry :

Low at his feet kneel Fox and Burke,
Whilft Dund-s fhakes his brazen dirk,
And flings his targe o'er Barré *.

THE HEN AND THE GOLDEN EGGS, A FABLE.

ADDRESSED TO THE MINISTER.

HAD Æfop been living, what mortal fo able
To write your Gazettes? as he dealt much in fable:
Yet tho' he is dead, he can be your advifer

Read one of his fables, 'twill make you much wiser.
A hen, we are told,

Laid an egg that was gold
Each day to her mistress and master;
But the cormorant crew

Thought one egg too few,

So they figh'd that fhe did not lay fafter.
Their hearts were form'd of ministerial steel;

They had no feeling but what hands can feel.
With fhame I must tell

ye,

They ripp'd up her belly,

To rifle a mine full of ore;

But the hen being dead,

It need not be faid,

They found that fhe could not lay more.

* Ut pictura poefis,---A print of this fpirited attack will be

speedily published.

The

The force of this fable, and its application,
Is felt by your Lordship, as well as the nation;
Neither you nor your gang, I am sure, need be told,
That America yielded her tribute of gold.

Had you liften'd to Penn,

And fofter'd your hen,

What regular wealth would have flow'd from her then!

But your ravenous crew,

Not content with their due,

Destroy'd the poor bird where for refuge she flew. The mufe from your folly this confequence gathers; Thofe who murder'd the fowl, will be choak'd with the feathers.

C. W.

AMERICAN EPIGRAM.

SOME mice deep intrench'd in a rich Cheshire cheese, * Grimalkin long wish'd to devour ;

Secure, from their numbers, they liv'd at their eafe, And bravely defied all his power.

In vain all the day he fat watching their holes,
All his tricks and his force were in vain;
Each effort convinc'd him the vermin had fouls,
Determin'd their cheese to maintain.

From a Bofton news-paper, printed in October, 1775,
Grimalkin,

Grimalkin, deep vers'd in political schools,
Affected the fiege to give o'er,

Suppofing the mice were fuch ignorant fools,
They would venture abroad as before.

But as he retreated, a fpirited mouse,
Whom time had bedappl'd with grey
Cry'd, "All your fineffe we don't value a fous,
"No more to your cunning a prey.

"This cheese by poffeffion we claim as our own, "Fair Freedom the claim doth approve;

"Our wants are but few, and her bleffings alone "Sufficient those wants to remove.

"For our King

"No cat will we own, with ambition run mad, - so move off in a trice; "If we find, from exper'ence, a King must be had "That King fhall be chofe by the Mice."

THE SAILOR's

ADDRESS.

[To the Tune of Hearts of Oak.]

I.

COME liften, my cocks, to a brother and friend;
One and all to my fong, gallant failors, attend:
Sons of freedom ourselves, let's be just as we're brave,
Nor America's freedom attempt to enslave.

Chorus.

Chorus.

Firm as oak are our hearts, when true glory depends: Steady boys, fteady,

We will always be ready,

To fight all our foes, not to murder our friends.

II.

True glory can ne'er in this quarrel be won ;
If New England we conquer, Old England's undone';
On our brethren then why attempt to fix chains?
For the blood of Great Britain flows warm in their

Shall courtiers fine fpeeches prevail to divide
Our affections from those who have fought by our fide;
And who often have join'd us to fink in the main, -
The proud-boafting navies of France and of Spain?
Chorus.

Firm as oak, &c.

IV.

For that Ad-ty L-d Jemmy Twitcher, who cares !

Let him practice his catches, impofe on his peers;