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Rise, then, my friends, in terror rise,
And sweep this scandal from the skies.
You'll see their Dagon, though well-jointed,
Will shrink before the Lord's anointed;
And like old Jericho's proud wall,
Before our ramshorns prostrate fall."

This said, our 'Squire, yet undismay'd,
Call'd forth the constable to aid,
And bade him read, in nearer station,
The Riot-Act and Proclamation.
He swift, advancing to the ring,
Began, "Our Sovereign Lord the King"-
When thousand clam'rous tongues he hears,
And clubs and stones assail his ears.
To fly was vain; to fight was idle;
By foes encompass'd in the middle,
His hope, in stratagems, he found,
And fell right craftily to ground;
Then crept to seek a hiding-place,
'Twas all he could, beneath a brace;
When soon the conqu'ring crew espied him,
And where he lurk'd they caught and tied him.
At once with resolution fatal,

Both Whigs and Tories rush'd to battle.
Instead of weapons, either band
Seiz'd on such arms as came to hand.
And fam'd as Ovid paints th' adventures
Of wrangling Lapithe and Centaurs,
Who, at their feast, by Bacchus led,
Threw bottles at each other's head;
And these arms failing in their scuffles,
Attack'd with andirons, tongs and shovels:
So clubs and billets, staves, and stones,
Met fierce, encountering every sconce,
And cover'd o'er with knobs and pains
Each void receptacle for brains;
Their clamours rend the skies around,
The hills rebellow to the sound;
And many a groan increas'd the din
From batter'd nose and broken shin.
M'FINGAL, rising at the word,
Drew forth his old militia-sword;

Thrice cried "King George," as erst in distress
Knights of romance invoked a mistress;
And brandishing the blade in air,
Struck terror through th' opposing war.
The Whigs, unsafe within the wind

Of such commotion, shrunk behind,
With whirling steel around address'd,

Fierce through their thickest throng he press'd,
(Who roll'd on either side in arch,
Like Red Sea waves in Israel's march),
And like a meteor rushing through,
Struck on their pole a vengeful blow.
Around the Whigs, of clubs and stones
Discharged whole volleys, in platoons,
That o'er in whistling fury fly;
But not a foe dares venture nigh.
And now perhaps with glory crown'd,
Our 'Squire has fell'd the pole to ground,

Had not some pow'r, a Whig at heart,
Descended down and took their part;
(Whether 'twere Pallas, Mars, or Iris,
Tis scarce worth while to make inquiries),
Who at the nick of time alarming,
Assum'd the solemn form of Chairman,
Address'd a Whig, in every scene
The stoutest wrestler on the green,
And pointed where the spade was found,
Late used to set their pole in ground.
And urg'd with equal arms and might
To dare our 'Squire to single fight.
The Whig, thus arm'd, untaught to yield,
Advanc'd tremendous to the field:
Nor did M'FINGAL shun the foe,
But stood to brave the desp'rate blow;
While all the party gaz'd suspended
To see the deadly combat ended;
And Jove in equal balance weigh'd
The sword against the brandish'd spade,
He weigh'd; but lighter than a dream,
The sword flew up and kicked the beam.
Our 'Squire, on tip-toe rising fair,
Lifts high a noble stroke in air,
Which hung not, but like dreadful engines,
Descended on his foe in vengeance.
But ah! in danger, with dishonour,
The sword perfidious fails its owner;
That sword, which oft had stood its ground,
By huge trainband's encircled round;
And on the bench, with blade right loyal,
Had won the day at many a trial,

Of stones and clubs had brav'd th' alarms,
Shrunk from these new Vulcanian arms.
The spade so temper'd from the sledge,
Nor keen nor solid harm'd its edge,
Now met it, from his arm of might,
Descending with steep force to smite;
The blade snapt short, and from his hand,
With rust embrown'd the glittering sand.
Swift turn'd M'FINGAL at the view,
And call'd to aid the attendant crew,
In vain; the Tories all had run,
When scarce the fight had well begun;
Their setting wigs he saw decreas'd
Far in th' horizon t'wards the west.
Amaz'd he view'd the shameful sight,
And saw no refuge but in flight:
But age unwieldy check'd his pace,
Though fear had wing'd his flying race;
For not a trifling prize at stake,
No less than great M'FINGAL's back.
With legs and arms he work'd his course,
Like rider that outgoes his horse,
And labor'd hard to get away, as
Old Satan struggling on through chaos;
Till, looking back, he spied in rear
The spade-arm'd chief advanc'd too near;
Then stopt and seiz'd a stone that lay
An ancient landmark near the way;
Nor shall we, as old bards have done,
Affirm it weigh'd a hundred ton;
But such a stone, as at a shift
A madman might suffice to lift,
Since men, to credit their enigmas,
Are dwindled down to dwarfs and pigmies,
And giants exil'd with their cronies
To Brobdignags and Patagonias.
But while our hero turn'd him round,
And tugg'd to raise it from the ground,
The fatal spade discharg'd a blow
Tremendous on his rear below;

His bent knees fail'd, and void of strength
Stretch'd on the ground his manly length.
Like ancient oak o'erturn'd, he lay,
Or tower to tempests fall'n a prey,
Or mountain sunk with all his pines,
Or flow'r the plough to dust consigns,

And more things else but all men know 'em,
If slightly vers'd in epic poem.

At once the crew, at this dread crisis,
Fall on, and bind him, ere he rises;
And with loud shouts and joyful soul,
Conduct him prisoner to the pole,
Where, now the mob, in lucky hour,
Had got their en'mies in their power
They first proceed, by grave command,
To take the constable in hand.
Then from the pole's sublimest top
The active crew let down a rope,

And looking forth in prospect wide,
His Tory errors clearly spied,
And from his elevated station,
With bawling voice began addressing:

"Good gentlemen and friends and kin,
For heaven's sake hear, if not for mine!
I here renounce the Pope, the Turks,
The King, the Devil, and all their works;
And will, set me but once at ease,
Turn Whig or Christian, what you please;
And always mind your rules so justly,
Should I live long as old Methus'lah,
I'll never join the British rage,
Nor help Lord North, nor Gen'ral Gage;
Nor lift my gun in future fights,
Nor take away your charter rights;
Nor overcome your new-rais'd levies,
Destroy your towns, nor burn your navies;

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At once its other end in haste bind,
And make it fast upon his waistband;
Till, like the earth, as stretch'd on tenter,
He hung self-balanc'd on his centre.*
Then upwards, all hands hoisting sail,
They swung him like a keg of ale,
Till to the pinnacle in height,
He vaulted, like balloon or kite,
As Socrates of old at first did,
To aid philosophy, get hoisted,

And found his thoughts flow strangely clear,
Swung in a basket in mid air:
Our culprit thus, in purer sky,
With like advantage rais'd his eye,

And earth self-balanced on her centre hung."-Milton.

Nor cut your poles down while I've breath,
Though rais'd more thick than hatchel teeth:
But leave King George and all his elves
To do their conquering work themselves."
This said, they lower'd him down in state,
Spread at all points, like falling cat;
But took a vote first on the question,
That they'd accept his full confession,
And to their fellowship and favour,
Restore him on his good behaviour.
Not so our 'Squire submits to rule,
But stood, heroic as a mule.

"You'll find it all in vain," quoth he,
"To play your rebel tricks on me,
All punishments the world can render,
Serve only to provoke th' offender;

The will gains strength from treatment horrid,
As hides
grow harder when they're curried.

No man e'er felt the halter draw,
With good opinion of the law;

Or held in method orthodox
His love of justice, in the stocks;
Or fail'd to lose by sheriff's shears
At once his loyalty and ears,

And can you think my faith will alter,
By tarring, whipping, or the halter?
I'll stand the worst; for recompense
I trust King George and Providence.
And when with conquest gain'd I come,
Array'd in law and terror home,
You'll rue this inauspicious morn,
And curse the day when ye were born,
In Job's high style of imprecations,
With all his plagues, without his patience."
Meanwhile, beside the pole, the guard
A Bench of Justice had prepared; *
Where, sitting round in awful sort,
The grand committee held their court;
While all the crew, in silent awe,
Wait from their lips the lore of law.
Few moments, with deliberation,
They hold the solemn consultation;
When soon in judgment all agree,
And Clerk proclaims the dread decree:
"That 'Squire M'FINGAL having grown,
The vilest Tory in the town,
And now in full examination,
Convicted by his own confession,
Finding no token of repentance,

This Court proceeds to render sentence:
That first the mob a slip-knot, single,
Tie round the neck of said M'FINGAL,
And in due form do tar him next,
And feather, as the law directs;
Then round the town attendant ride him,
In cart, with Constable beside him,
And having held him up to shame,
Bring to the pole, from whence he came."
Forthwith the crowd proceed to deck
With halter'd noose M'FINGAL's neck,
While he in peril of his soul

Stood tied half hanging to the pole;
Then lifting high the pond'rous jar,
Pour'd o'er his head the smoking tar.
With less profusion once was spread
Oil on the Jewish monarch's head,
That down his beard and vestments ran,
And cover'd all his outward man.
As when (so Claudian sings) the Gods
And earth-born Giants fell at odds,
The stout Enceladus in malice

Tore mountains up to throw at Pallas;
And while he held them o'er his head,
The river, from their fountains fed,
Pour'd down his back its copious tide,
And wore its channels in his hide :
So from the high-rais'd urn the torrents
Spread down his side their various currents;
His flowing wig, as next the brim,
First met and drank the sable stream;
Adown his visage stern and grave
Roll'd and adhered the viscid wave;

* An imitation of legal forms was universally practised by the mobs in New England, in the trial and condemnation of Tories. This marks a curious trait of national character.

With arms depending as he stood,
Each cuff capacious holds the flood;
From nose and chin's remotest end,
The tarry icicles descend;

Till all o'erspread, with colours gay,
He glitter'd to the western ray,
Like sleet-bound trees in wintry skies,
Or Lapland idol carved in ice.
And now the feather-bag display'd,
Is wav'd in triumph o'er his head,
And clouds him o'er with feathers missive,
And down, upon the tar, adhesive:
Not Maia's son, with wings for ears,
Such plumage round his visage wears;
Nor Milton's six-winged angel gathers
Such superfluity of feathers.
Now all complete appears our 'Squire,
Like Gorgon or Chimera dire;
Nor more could boast, on Plato's plan,
To rank among the race of man,
Or prove his claim to human nature,
As a two-legg'd, unfeather'd creature.
Then on the fatal cart, in state,
They raised our grand duumvirate.
And as at Rome a like committee,
Who found an owl within their city,
With solemn rites and grave processions,
At every shrine perform'd lustrations;
And lest infection might take place,
From such grim fowl with feather'd face,
All Rome attends him through the street,
In triumph to his country-seat;
With like devotion all the choir
Paraded round our awful 'Squire;
In front the martial music comes,
Of horns and fiddles, fifes and drums,
With jingling sound of carriage-bells,
And treble creak of rusted wheels.
Behind the crowd, in lengthen'd row,
With proud procession, clos'd the show,
And at fit periods every throat
Combin'd in universal shout;
And hail'd great Liberty in chorus,
Or bawl'd "Confusion to the Tories!"
Not louder storm the welkin braves
From clamours of conflicting waves;
Less dire in Lybian wilds the noise
When rav'ning lions lift their voice;
Or triumphs at town-meetings made,
On passing votes to reg'late trade.*

Thus having borne them round the town,
Last at the poll they set them down;
And to the tavern take their way,

To end in mirth the festal day.

And now the mob, dispers'd and gone,
Left 'Squire and Constable alone.
The Constable with rueful face
Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace;
And fast beside him, cheek by jowl,
Stuck 'Squire M'FINGAL 'gainst the pole,
Glued by the tar t' his rear applied,
Like barnacle on vessel's side;
But though his body lack'd physician,
His spirit was in worse condition.

He found his fears of whips and ropes
By many a drachm outweigh'd his hopes.

* Such votes were frequently passed at town-meetings, with the view to prevent the augmentation of prices, and stop the depreciation of the paper-money.

As men in jail without mainprize
View every thing with other eyes,
And all goes wrong in church and state,
Seen through perspective of the grate:
So now M'FINGAL's second-sight
Beheld all things in gloomiest light;
His visual nerves, well purg'd with tar,
Saw all the coming scenes of war.
As his prophetic soul grew stronger,
He found he could hold in no longer,
First from the pole, as fierce he shook,
His wig from pitchy durance broke,
His mouth unglued, his feathers flutter'd,
His tarr'd skirts crack'd, and thus he utter'd.
"Ah, Mr. Constable, in vain

We strive 'gainst wind and tide, and rain!
Behold my doom! this feathery omen
Portends what dismal times are coming.
Now future scenes, before my eyes,
And second-sighted forms arise.

I hear a voice that calls away,

And cries, 'The Whigs will win the day!'
My beck'ning Genius gives command,
And bids me fly the fatal land;
Where changing name and constitution,
Rebellion turns to Revolution,
Where Loyalty, oppress'd in tears,
Stands trembling for its neck and ears,

"Go, summon all our brethren, greeting,
To muster at our usual meeting;
There my prophetic voice shall warn 'em
Of all things future that concern 'em,
And scenes disclose on which, my friend,
Their conduct and their lives depend.
There I-but first 'tis of more use,
From this vile pole to set me loose;
Then go with cautious steps and steady,
While I steer home and make all ready."

PAPER; A POEM.

BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

SOME wit of old,—such wits of old there were,—
Whose hints show'd meaning, whose allusions care,
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,
Call'd clear blank paper every infant mind;
Then still, as opening sense her dictates wrote,
Fair virtue put a seal or vice a blot.

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.
I (can you pardon my presumption), I-
No wit, no genius-yet for once will try.

Various the papers various wants produce,
The wants of fashion, elegance and use.
Men are as various; and if right I scan,
Each sort of paper represents some man.

Pray note the fop,-half powder and half lace,-
Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place;
He's the gilt paper, which apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands in th' escritoire.

Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth,
Are copy paper of inferior worth:

Less priz'd, more useful, for your desk decreed,
Free to all pens, and prompt at every need.

The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare,
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper, such as pedlars choose
To wrap up wares, which better men will use.
Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys
Health, fame, and fortune in a round of joys.

1794.

Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout. He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt.

The retail politician's anxious thought
Deems this side always right, and that stark naught;
He foams with censure; with applause he raves,—
A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves;
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as foolscap has a name.

The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel if you step awry,
Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure,—
What's he? What? Touch-paper, to be sure.

What are our poets, take them as they fall,
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all?
Them and their works in the same class you'll find;
They are the mere waste-paper of mankind.

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet;
She's fair white paper, an unsullied sheet;
On which the happy man, whom fate ordains,
May write his name, and take her for his pains.

One instance more, and only one I'll bring; 'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing, Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are

his own,

Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone;
True genuine royal paper is his breast;
Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.

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[Bryant assigns to this writer the high merit of being the first to make American history attractive. The following chapters form the commencement of the work, and present a fair specimen of the Doctor's humor.]

DEAR SIR,

To perform the promise which I made to you before I began my journey, I will give you such an account of this, once forest, but now cultivated and pleasant country, as I can collect from my conversation with its inhabitants, and from the perusal of their old family papers, which they have kindly permitted me to look into for my entertainment. By these means I have acquainted myself with the story of their first planting, consequent improvements, and present state; the recital of which will occupy the hours which I shall be able to spare from business, company, and sleep, during my residence among them.

In reading the character of John Bull, which was committed to paper some years ago by one who knew him well, you must have observed, that though "he was in the main an honest, plain-dealing fellow, yet he was choleric and inconstant, and very apt to quarrel with his best friends." This observation you will find fully verified in the course of the narrative;

as far as I can find, the best pretence that John had to call the land his; for he had no legal title to it. It was then a very woody country, in some parts rocky and hilly, in other parts level; well watered with brooks and ponds, and the whole of it bordered on a large lake, in which were plenty of fish, some of which were often served up at John's table, on fast days.

The stories told by one and another of these adventurers, had made a deep impression on the mind of Walter Pipeweed, one of John's domestics, a fellow of a roving and projecting disposition, and who had learned the art of surveying. Walter having frequently listened to their chat, began to think within himself, "If these fellows make so many pence by their excursions to this wild spot, what might not I gain by sitting down upon it? There is plenty of game and fish at hand, for a present supply; plenty of nuts and acorns to fatten pigs, and with some small labour I may be able to raise corn and feed poultry, which will fetch me a

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and as the opinions and manners of superiors have a very great influence in forming the character of inferiors, you need not be surprised if you find a family likeness prevailing among the persons whose history I am about to recite, most of whom were formerly residents in Mr. Bull's house, or apprentices in his shop.

There was among the appendages to John's estate, a pretty large tract of land, which had been neglected by his ancestors, and which he never cared much about, excepting that now and then some of his family went thither a hunting, and brought home venison and furs. Indeed this was,

good price at market. I can carry biscuit enough in my pockets to keep me alive till my first crop comes in, and my dog can live upon the offals of the game that I shall kill. Besides, who knows what treasures the land itself may contain-perhaps some rich mines!-then I am made for this worldI shall be as rich as Lord Strut! t

Full of this dream, Walter applied to his master one day, for a lease of part of the forest, as it was called. Bull at first laughed at the proposal, and put him off; but Walter followed it up so close, and

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