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M'FINGAL: A MODERN EPIC POEM. CANTO FIRST, OR THE TOWN-MEETING.
PHILADELPHIA. Printed and Sold by WILLIAM and THOMAS BRADFORD, at the London Coffee-House, 1775.
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M'FINGAL, AN EPIC POEM, &c.
WHEN Yankies skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manoeuvres of parade;
The true war dance of Yanky-reels,
And val'rous exercise of heels;
Made them give up, like saints complete,
The arm of flesh and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out, by fear and trembling;
Taught Piercy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-chaces:
From Boston, in his best aray,
Great Squire M'Fingal took his way,
And graced with Ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homewards to his native town.
[Page 2] His high descent our heralds trace
To * Ossian's famed Fingalian race:
For tho' their name some part may lack,
Old Fingal spelt it with a Mac;
Which great M'Pherson, with submission
We hope will add, the next edition.
His fathers flourish'd in the Highlands
Of Scotia's fog-benighted islands;
Whence gain'd our 'Squire two gifts by right,
Rebellion and the second sight
Of these the first in antient days
Had gain'd the noblest palms of praise,
'Gainst Kings stood forth and many a crown'd head
With terror of its might confounded;
Till rose a King with potent charm
His foes by goodness to disarm,
Whom evr'y Scot and Jacobite
Strait fell in love with, at first sight;
Whose gracious speech, with aid of pensions,
Hush'd down all murmurs of dissensions,
And with the sound of potent metal,
Brought all their blust'ring swarms to settle;
Who rain'd his ministerial mannas,
Till loud sedition sung hosannahs;
The good Lords, Bishops and the Kirk
United in the public work;
Rebellion from the northern regions,
With Bute and Mansfield swore allegiance;
And all combin'd to raze as nuisance,
Of church and state, the constitutions;
Pull down the empire, on whose ruins
They meant to edify their new ones;
[Page 3] Enslave th' Amer'can wildernesses,
And tear the provinces in pieces.
For these our 'Squire among the vailnt'st
Employ'd his time and tools and talents;
And in their cause with manly zeal
Used his first virtue, to rebel;
And found this new rebellion pleasing
As his old king-destroying treason.
Nor less avail'd his optic sleight,
And Scottish gift of second-sight.
No antient sybil fam'd in rhyme
Saw deeper in the womb of time;
No block in old Dod [...]na's grove,
Could ever more orac'ler prove.
Nor only saw he all that was,
But much that never came to pass;
Whereby all Prophets far outwent he,
Tho' former days produc'd a plenty:
For any man with half an eye,
What stands before him may espy,
But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
To see what is not to be seen.
As in the days of antient fame
Prophets and poets were the same,
And all the praise that poets gain
Is but for what th' invent and feign;
So gain'd our 'Squire his fame by seeing
Such things as never would have being.
Whence he for oracles was grown
The very * tripod of his town.
Gazettes no sooner rose a lye in,
But strait he fell to prophesying;
[Page 4] Made dreadful slaughter in his course,
O'erthrew provincials, foot and horse;
Brought armies o'er by sudden pressings
Of Hanoverians, Swiss and Hessians;
Feasted with blood his Scottish clan,
And hang'd all rebels, to a man;
Divided their estates and pelf;
And took a goodly share himself.
All this with spirit energetic,
He did by second-sight prophetic.
Thus stor'd with intellectual riches,
Skill'd was our 'Squire in making Speeches,
Where strength of brains united centers
With strength of lungs surpassing stentor's
But as some musquets so contrive it,
As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
And tho' well aim'd at duck or plover,
Bear wide and kick their owners over:
So far'd our 'Squire, whose reas'ning toil
Would often on himself recoil,
And so much injured more his side,
The stronger arg'ments he applied.
As old war-elephants dismay'd,
Trode down the troops they came to aid,
And hurt their own side more in battle
Than less and ordinary cattle.
Yet at town-meetings ev'ry chief
Pinn'd faith on great M'Fingal's sleeve,
And as he motion'd all by rote
Rais'd sympathetic hands to vote.
The town, our hero's scene of action,
Had long been torn by feuds of faction,
And as each party's strength prevails,
It turn'd up diff'rent, heads or tails;
With constant rattl'ing in a trice
Show'd various sides as oft as dice;
[Page 5] As that fam'd weaver, * wife t' Ulysses,
By night each day's-work pick'd in pieces,
And tho' she stoutly did bestir her,
Its finishing was ne'er the nearer:
So did this town with sted fast zeal
Weave cob-webs for the public weal,
Which when completed, or before,
A second vote in pieces tore.
They met, made speeches full long winded,
Resolv'd, protested, and rescinded;
Addresses sign'd, then chose Committees,
To stop all drinking of Bohea-teas;
With winds of doctrine veer'd about,
And turn'd all Whig-Committees out.
Meanwhile our hero, as their head,
In pomp the tory-faction led,
Still following, as the 'Squire should please,
Successive on, like files of geese.
And now the town was summon'd greeting,
To grand parading of town-meeting;
A show, that strangers might appall,
As Rome's grave senate did the gaul.
High o'er the rout, on pulpit-stairs,
Like den of thieves in house of pray'rs,
(That house, which loth a rule to break,
Serv'd heav'n but one day in the week,
Open the rest for all supplies
Of news and politics and lies)
Stood forth the constable, and bore
His staff, like Merc'ry's wand of yore,
Wav'd potent round, the peace to keep,
As that laid dead mens souls to sleep.
Above and near th' hermetic staff,
The moderator's upper half,
[Page 6] In grandeur o'er the cushion bow'd,
Like Sol half-seen behind a cloud.
Beneath stood voters of all colours,
Whigs, tories, orators and bawlers,
With ev'ry tongue in either faction,
Prepared, like minute-men, for action;
Where truth and falshood, wrong and right,
Draw all their legions out to sight;
With equal uproar, scarcely rave
Opposing winds in OE'lus' cave;
Such dialogues with earnest face
Held never Balaam with his ass.
With daring zeal and courage blest
Honorious first the croud address'd;
When now our 'Squire returning late,
Arrived to aid the grand debate,
With strange four faces-fat him down,
While thus the orator went on.
"—For ages blest, thus Britain rose
The terror of encircling foes;
Her heroes rul'd the bloody plain;
Her conq'ring standard aw'd the main:
The diff'rent palms her triumphs grace;
Of arms in war, of arts in peace:
Beneath her kind, maternal care,
Each rising province flourish'd fair;
Whose various wealth with lib'ral hand,
By far o'er-paid the parent-land,
But tho' so bright her sun might shine,
'T was quickly hasting to decline,
With feeble rays, too weak t' assuage,
The damps, that chill the eve of age.
For states, like men, are doom'd as well
Th' infirmities of age to feel;
And as their constitutions please 'em,
Find ev'ry deep distemper seize 'em.
Some states high fevers have made head in,
Which nought could cure but copious bleeding.
[Page 7] While others have grown dull and dozy,
Or fix'd in helpless idiocy.
Thus now while hoary years prevail,
Good Mother Britain seem'd to fail:
Her back bent, crippled with the weight
Of age and debts and cares of state:
For debts she owed, and those so large,
As twice her wealth could not discharge,
And now 'twas thought, so high they'd grown,
She'd break and come upon the town;
Her arms, of nations once the dread,
She scarce could lift above her head;
Her deafen'd ears ('twas all their hope)
The final trump perhaps might ope,
So long they'd been in stupid mood,
Shut to the hearing of all good;
Grim death had put her in his scroll,
Down on the execution-roll;
And Gallic crows, as she grew weaker,
Already whet their beaks to pick her,
And now her pow'rs decaying fast,
Her grand Climact'ric had she past,
And, just like all old women else,
Fell in the vapours much by spells:
Strange whimsies on her fancy struck,
And gave her brain a dismal shock;
Her mem'ry fails, her judgment ends;
She quite forgot her nearest friends,
Lost all her former sense and knowlege,
And fitted fast for Beth'lem college;
Of all the pow'rs she once retain'd,
Conceit and pride alone remain'd.
As Eve when falling was so modest
To fancy she should grow a goddess;
As madmen, straw who long have slept on,
Will stile them, Jupiter or Neptune:
So Britain 'midst her airs so flighty,
Now took a whim to be Almighty;
[Page 8] Urg'd on to desp'rate heights of frenzy,
Affirm'd her own Omnipotency;
Would rather ruin all her race,
Than 'bate Supremacy an ace;
Assumed all rights divine, as grown,
The churches head, like good Pope Joan;
Swore all the world should bow and skip
To her almighty Goodyship;
Anath'matiz'd each unbeliever,
And vow'd to live and rule forever.
Her servants humour'd ev'ry whim,
And own'd at once her pow'r supreme,
Her follies pleas'd in all their stages,
For sake of legacies and wages;
In * Stephen's Chapel then in state too
Set up her golden calf to pray to,
Proclaim'd its pow'r and right divine,
And call'd for worship at its shrine,
And for poor Heretics to burn us,
Bade North prepare his fiery furnace:
Struck bargains with the Romish Churches
Infallibility to purchase;
Set wide for Popery the door,
Made friends with Babel's scarlet whore,
Join'd both the matrons firm in clan;
No sisters made a better span.
No wonder then, ere this was over,
That she should make her children suffer.
She first, without pretence of reason,
Claim'd right whate'er we had to seize on;
And with determin'd resolution,
To put her claims in execution,
Sent fire and sword and call'd it, Lenity,
Starv'd us, and christen'd it, Humanity.
For she, her case grown desperater,
Mistook the plainest things in nature;
[Page 9] Had lost all use of eyes or wits;
Took slav'ry for the bill of rights;
Trembled at Whigs and deem'd them foes,
And stopp'd at loyalty her nose;
Stiled her own children, brats and caitiffs,
And knew us not from th' Indian natives.
What tho' with supplicating pray'r
We begg'd our lives and goods she'd spare;
Not vainer vows, with fillier call,
Elijah's prophets rais'd to Baal;
A worshipp'd stock of god, or goddess,
Had better heard and understood us.
So once Egyptians at the Nile
Ador'd their guardian Crocodile,
Who heard them first with kindest ear,
And ate them to reward their pray'r;
And could he talk, as kings can do,
Had made as gracious speeches too.
Thus spite of pray'rs her schemes pursuing,
She still went on to work our ruin;
Annull'd our charters of releases,
And tore our title-deeds in pieces;
Then sign'd her warrants of ejection,
And gallows rais'd to stretch our necks on:
And on these errands sent in rage,
Her bailiff, and her hangman, Gage,
And at his heels, like dogs to bait us,
Dispatch'd her Posse Comitatûs.
No state e'er chose a fitter person,
To carry such a silly farce on.
As Heathen gods in antient days
Receiv'd at second-hand their praise,
Stood imag'd forth in stones and stocks,
And deified in barbers blocks;
So Gage was chose to represent
Th' omnipotence of Parliament.
And as old heroes gain'd, by shifts,
From gods, as poets tell, their gifts;
[Page 10] Our Gen'ral, as his actions show,
Gain'd like assistance from below,
By Satan graced with full supplies,
From all his magazine of lies.
Yet could his practice ne'er impart
The wit to tell a lie with art.
Those lies alone are formidable,
Where artful truth is mixt with fable;
But Gage has bungled oft so vilely
No soul would credit lies so silly,
Outwent all faith and stretch'd beyond
Credulity's extremest end.
Whence plain it seems tho' Satan once
O'erlook'd with scorn each brainless dunce,
And blund'ring brutes in Eden shunning,
Chose out the serpent for his cunning;
Of late he is not half so nice,
Nor picks assistants, 'cause they're wise.
For had he stood upon perfection,
His present friends had lost th' election,
And fared as hard in this proceeding,
As owls and asses did in Eden.
Yet meanest reptiles are most venomous,
And simpletons most dang'rous enemies;
Nor e'er could Gage by craft and prowess
Have done a whit more mischief to us:
Since he began th' unnatural war,
The work his masters sent him for.
And are there in this freeborn land
Among ourselves a venal band,
A dastard race who long have sold
Their souls and consciences for gold;
Who wish to stab their country's vitals,
If they might heir surviving titles;
With joy behold our mischiefs brewing,
Insult and triumph in our ruin?
Priests who, if Satan should sit down,
To make a bible of his own,
[Page 11] Would gladly, for the sake of mitres,
Turn his inspir'd and sacred writers;
Lawyers, who should he wish to prove
His title t' his old feat above,
Would, if his cause he'd give 'em fees in,
Bring writs of Entry sur disseisin,
Plead for him boldly at the session,
And hope to put him in possession;
Merchants who, for his kindly aid,
Would make him partners in their trade,
And Judges, who would lift his pages,
For proper liveries and wages;
And who as humbly cringe and bow
To all his mortal servants now?
There are; and shame with pointing gestures,
Marks out th' Addressors and Protestors;
Whom, following down the stream of fate,
Contempts ineffable await,
And public infamy forlorn,
Dread hate and everlasting scorn."
As thus he spake, our 'Squire M'Fingal
Gave to his partizans a signal.
Not quicker roll'd the waves to land,
When Moses wav'd his potent wand,
Nor with more uproar, than the Tories
Set up a gen'ral rout in chorus;
Laugh'd, hiss'd, hem'd, murmur'd, groan'd and jeer'd;
Honorius now could scarce be heard.
Our Muse amid th' increasing roar,
Could not distinguish one word more:
Tho' she fate by in firm record
To take in shorthand ev'ry word;
As antient Muses wont to whom
Old Bards for depositions come,
Who must have writ 'em; for how else
Could they each speech verbatim tell 's?
And tho' some readers of romances
Are apt to strain their tortur'd fancies,
[Page 12] And doubt when lovers all alone
Their sad soliloquies do groan,
Grieve many a page with no one near 'em,
And nought but rocks and groves to hear 'em,
What spright infernal could have tattled,
And told the authors all they prattled;
Whence some weak minds have made objection,
That what they scribbled must be fiction:
'Tis false; for while the lovers spoke,
The Muse was by, with table-book,
And, least some blunder might ensue,
Echo stood clerk and kept the cue.
And tho' the speech ben't worth a groat,
As usual, 'tisn't the author's fault,
But error merely of the prater,
Who should have talk'd to th' purpose better:
Which full excuse, my critic-brothers,
May help me out, as well as others;
And 'tis design'd, tho' here it lurk,
To serve as preface to this work.
So let it be—for now our 'Squire
No longer could contain his ire;
And rising midst applauding Tories,
Thus vented wrath upon Honorius.
Quoth he, "'Tis wondrous what strange stuff
Your Whig's-heads are compounded of;
Which force of logic cannot pierce
Nor syllogistic carte & tierce,
Nor weight of scripture or of reason
Suffice to make the least impression.
Not heeding what ye rais'd contest on,
Ye prate and beg or steal the question;
And when your boasted arguings fail,
Strait leave all reas'ning off, to rail.
Have not our High-Church Clergy made it
Appear from scriptures which ye credit,
That right divine from heav'n was lent
To kings, that is the Parliament,
[Page 13] Their subjects to oppress and teaze,
And serve the Devil when they please?
Did they not write and pray and preach,
And torture all the parts of speech,
About Rebellion make a pother,
From one end of the land to th' other?
And yet gain'd fewer prof'lyte Whigs
Than old * St. Anth'ny 'mongst the pigs;
And chang'd not half so many vicious
As Austin, when he preach'd to fishes;
Who throng'd to hear, the legend tells,
Were edified and wagg'd their tails:
But scarce you'd prove it, if you tried,
That e'er one Whig was edified.
Have ye not heard from † Parson Walter
Much dire presage of many a halter?
What warnings had ye of your duty
From our old Rev'rend † Sam. [...],
From Priests of all degrees and metres,
T' our fagg-end man poor ‡ Parson Peters?
Have not our Cooper and our Seabury
Sung hymns, like Barak and old Deborah,
Prov'd all intrigues to set you free
Rebellion 'gainst the powr's that be;
Brought over many a scripture text
That used to wink at rebel-sects,
Coax'd wayward ones to favour regents,
Or paraphras'd them to obedience;
[Page 14] Prov'd ev'ry king, ev'n those confest
Horns of th' Apocalyptic beast,
And sprouting from its noddles seven,
Ordain'd, as bishops are, by heav'n;
(For reasons sim'lar, as we're told,
That Tophet was ordain'd of old)
By this lay-ordination valid
Becomes all sanctified and hallow'd,
Takes patent out when heav'n has sign'd it,
And starts up strait, the Lord's anointed?
As extreme unction that can cleanse
Each penitent from deadly sins,
Make them run glib, when oil'd by Priest,
The heav'nly road, like wheels new-greas'd,
Serve them, like shoeball, for defences
'Gainst wear and tear of consciences:
So king's anointment cleans betimes,
Like fuller's earth, all spots of crimes,
For future knav'ries gives commissions,
Like Papists sinning under licence.
For heav'n ordain'd the origin,
Divines declare, of pain and sin;
Prove such great good they both have done us,
Kind mercy 'twas they came upon us.
For without pain and sin and folly
Man ne'er were blest, or wise, or holy;
And we should * thank the Lord, 'tis so,
As authors grave wrote long ago.
Now heav'n its issues never brings
Without the means, and these are kings;
And he, who blames when they announce ills,
Would counteract th' eternal counsels.
As when the Jews, a murm'ring race,
By constant grumblings fell from grace,
Heav'n taught them first to know their distance
By famine, slav'ry and Philistines;
[Page 15] When these could no repentance bring,
In wrath it sent them last, a king.
So nineteen, 'tis believ'd, in twenty
Of modern kings for plagues are sent you;
Nor can your cavillers pretend,
But that they answer well their end.
'Tis yours to yield to their command,
As rods in Providence's hand;
And if it means to send you pain,
You turn your noses up in vain;
Your only way's in peace to bear it,
And make necessity a merit.
Hence sure perdition must await
The man, who rises 'gainst the state,
Who meets at once the damning sentence
Without one loophole for repentance;
E'en tho' he gain the royal see,
And rank among the pow'rs that be;
For hell is theirs, the scripture shows,
Whoe'er the pow'rs that be, oppose,
And all those pow'rs (I'm clear that 'tis so)
Are damn'd for ever, ex officio.
Thus far our Clergy; but 'tis true,
We lack'd not earthly reas'ners too.
Had I the * Poet's brazen lungs
As sound-board to his hundred tongues,
I could not half the scribblers muster
That swarm'd round Rivington in cluster;
Assemblies, Councilmen, forsooth;
Brush, Cooper, Wilkins, Chandler, Booth.
Yet all their arguments and sap'ence,
You did not value at three halfpence.
Did not our Scribbler-gen'ral strain hard,
Our Massachusettensis, † Leonard?
[Page 16] Scrawl ev'ry moment he could spare,
From cards and barbers and the fair;
Show, clear as sun in noonday heavens,
You did not feel a single grievance;
Demonstrate all your opposition
Sprung from the * eggs of foul sedition;
Swear he had seen the nest she laid in,
And knew how long she had been sitting;
Could tell exact what strength of heat is
Requir'd to hatch her out Committees;
What shapes they take and how much longer's
The space before they grow t' a Congress?
New-whitewash'd Hutchinson and varnish'd,
Our Gage, who'd got a little tarnish'd,
Made 'em new marks, in time no doubt,
For Hutchinson's was quite worn out;
And while he muddled all his head,
You did not heed a word he said.
Did not our grave † judge Sewall hit
The summit of news-paper wit?
Fill'd ev'ry leaf of ev'ry paper
Of Mills and Hicks and mother Draper;
Drew proclamations, works of toil,
In true sublime of scarecrow style;
Wrote farces too, 'gainst Sons of Freedom,
All for your good, and none would read 'em;
Denounc'd damnation on their frenzy,
Who died in Whig-impenitency;
Affirm'd that heav'n would lend us aid,
As all our Tory-writers said,
And calculated so its kindness,
He told the moment when it join'd us."
[Page 17] "'Twas then belike, Honorius cried,
When you the public fast defied,
Refus'd to heav'n to raise a prayer,
Because you'd no connections there:
And since with rev'rend hearts and faces
To Governors you'd made addresses,
In them, who made you Tories, seeing
You lived and mov'd and had your being;
Your humble vows you would not breathe
To pow'rs you'd no acquaintance with."
"As for your fasts, replied our 'Squire,
What circumstance could fasts require?
We kept them not, but 'twas no crime;
We held them merely loss of time.
For what advantage firm and lasting,
Pray did ye ever get by fasting?
And what the gains that can arise
From vows and off'rings to the skies?
Will heav'n reward with posts and sees,
Or send us Tea, as Consignees,
Give pensions, sal'ries, places, bribes,
Or chuse us judges, clerks, or scribes?
Has it commissions in its gift,
Or cash, to serve us at a lift?
Are acts of Parliament there made,
To carry on the placeman's trade?
Or has it pass'd a single bill
To let us plunder whom we will?
And look our list of placemen all over;
Did heav'n appoint our chief-judge, Oliver,
Fill that high bench with ignoramus,
[...] has it councils by mandamus?
Who made that wit of * water gruel,
A judge of Admiralty, Sewall?
And were they not mere earthly struggles,
That rais'd up Murray, say, and Ruggles?
Did heav'n send down, our pains to med'cine,
That old simplicity of Edson,
[Page 18] Or by election pick out from us,
That Marshfield blund'rer Nat. Ray Thomas,
Or had it any hand in serving
A Loring, Pepp'rell, Browne, or Erving?
Yet we've some saints, the very thing,
We'll pit against the best you'll bring.
For can the strongest fancy paint
Than Hutchinson a greater saint?
Was there a parson used to pray
At times more reg'lar twice a day;
As folks exact have dinners got,
Whether they've appetites or not?
Was there a zealot more alarming
'Gainst public vice to hold forth sermon,
Or fix'd at church, whose inward motion
Roll'd up his eyes with more devotion?
What Puritan could ever pray
In godlier tone, than treas'rer * Gray,
Or at town-meetings speechify'ng,
Could utter more melodious whine,
And shut his eyes and vent his moan,
Like owl afflicted in the sun?
Who once sent home his canting rival,
Lord Dartmouth's self might outbedrived."
"Have you forgot, Honorius cried,
How your prime saint the truth defied,
Affirm'd he never wrote a line
Your charter'd rights to undermine;
When his own letters then were by,
That prov'd his message all a lie?
How many promises he seal'd,
To get th' oppressive acts repeal'd,
Yet once arriv'd on England's shore,
Set on the Premier to pass more?
[Page 19] But these are no defects, we grant,
In a right loyal Tory saint,
Whose godlike virtues must with ease
Atone such venial crimes as these;
Or ye perhaps in scripture spy
A new commandment, "Thou shalt lie;"
And if 't be so (as who can tell?)
There's no one sure ye keep so well."
"Quoth he, For lies and promisebreaking
Ye need not be in such a taking;
For lying is, we know and teach,
The highest privilege of speech;
The universal Magna Charta,
To which all human race is party,
Whence children first, as David says,
Lay claim to 't in their earliest days;
The only stratagem in war,
Our Gen'rals have occasion for;
The only freedom of the press
Our politicians need in peace:
And 'tis a shame you wish t' abridge us
Of these our darling privileges.
Thank heav'n, your shot have miss'd their aim,
For lying is no sin, or shame.
As men last wills may change again,
Tho' drawn in name of God, amen;
Besure they must have much the more,
O'er promises as great a pow'r,
Which made in haste, with small inspection,
So much the more will need correction;
And when they've careless spoke, or penn'd 'em,
Have right to look 'em o'er and mend 'em;
Revise their vows, or change the text,
By way of codicil annex'd;
Turn out a promise, that was base,
And put a better in its place.
So Gage of late agreed, you know,
To let the Boston people go:
[Page 20] Yet when he saw 'gainst troops that brav'd him,
They were the only guards that sav'd him,
Kept off that satan of a Putnam,
From breaking in to maul and mutt'n him;
He'd too much wit such leagues t' observe,
And shut them in again to starve.
As Moses writes, when female Jews
Made oaths and vows unfit for use,
Their parents then might set them free
From that conscientious tyranny:
And shall men feel that spir'tual bondage
Forever, when they grow beyond age;
Nor have pow'r their own oaths to change?
I think the tale were very strange,
Shall vows but bind the stout and strong,
And let go women weak and young,
As nets enclose the larger crew,
And let the smaller fry creep thro'?
Besides, the Whigs have all been set on,
The Tories to affright and threaten,
Till Gage amidst his trembling fits
Has hardly kept him in his wits;
And tho' he speak with art and finesse,
'Tis said beneath duress per minas.
For we're in peril of our souls
From feathers, tar and lib'rty-poles:
And vows extorted are not binding
In law, and so not worth the minding.
For we have in this hurly burly
Sent off our consciences on furlow,
Thrown our religion o'er in form;
Our ship to lighten in the storm.
Nor need we blush your Whigs before;
If we've no virtue, you've no more.
Your boasted patriotism is scarce,
And country's love is but a farce;
And after all the proofs you bring,
We Tories know there's no such thing.
[Page 21] Our English writers of great fame
Prove public virtue but a name.
Hath not * Dalrymple show'd in print,
And * Johnson too, there's nothing in't?
Produc'd you demonstration ample
From other's and their own example,
That self is still, in either faction,
The only principle of action;
The loadstone, whose attracting tether
Keeps the politic world together.
And spite of all your double-dealing,
We Tories know 'tis so, by feeling.
Who heeds your babbling of transmitting
Freedom to brats of your begetting,
Or will proceed as though there were a tie,
Or obligation to posterity?
We get 'em, bear 'em, breed and nurse;
What has poster'ty done for us,
That we, left they their rights should lose,
Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?
And who believes you will not run?
You're cowards, ev'ry mother's son;
And should you offer to deny,
We've witnesses to prove it by.
Attend th' opinion first, as referee,
Of your old Gen'ral, stout Sir Jeffery,
Who swore that with five thousand foot
He'd rout you all, and in pursuit,
Run thro' the land as easily,
As camel thro' a needle's eye.
Did not the valiant Col'nel Grant
Against your courage make his slant,
Affirm your universal failure
In ev'ry principle of valour,
And swear no scamp'rers e'er could match you,
So swift, a bullet scarce could catch you.
[Page 22] And will ye not confess in this,
A judge most competent he is,
Well skill'd on runnings to decide,
As what himself has often tried?
'Twould not methinks be labour lost,
If you'd sit down and count the cost;
And ere you call your Yankees out,
First think what work you've set about.
Have ye not rouz'd, his force to try on,
That grim old beast, the British lion?
And know you not that at a sup
He's large enough to eat you up?
Have you survey'd his jaws beneath,
Drawn inventories of his teeth,
Or have you weigh'd in even balance
His strength, and magnitude of talons?
His roar would turn your boasts to fear,
As easily as sour small-beer,
And make your feet from dreadful fray,
By native instinct run away.
Britain, depend on't, will take on her
T' assert her dignity and honour,
And ere she'd lose your share of pelf,
Destroy your country and herself.
For has not North declar'd they fight
To gain substantial rev'nue by't,
Denied he'd ever deign to treat,
Till on your knees and at his feet?
And feel you not a trifling ague,
From Van's, Delenda est Carthago?
For this, now Britain has come to 't,
Think you she has not means to do't?
Has she not set to work all engines
To spirit up the native Indians,
Send on your backs a savage band,
With each a hatchet in his hand,
[Page 23] T' amuse themselves with scalping knives,
And butcher children and your wives;
That she may boast again with vanity,
Her English national humanity?
For now in its primaeval sense,
This term, human'ty, comprehends
All things of which, on this side hell,
The human mind is capable;
And thus 'tis well, by writers sage,
Applied to Britain and to Gage.)
And on this work to raise allies,
She sent her duplicate of Guy's,
To drive, at diff'rent parts at once, on,
Her stout Guy Carlton and Guy Johnson:
To each of whom, to send again ye
Old Guy of Warwick were a ninny;
Tho' the dun cow he fell'd in war,
These killcows are his betters far.
And has she not assay'd her notes,
To rouze your slaves to cut your throats,
Sent o'er ambassadors with guineas,
To bribe your blacks in Carolinas?
And has not Gage, her missionary,
Turn'd many an Afric slave t'a Tory,
And made th' Amer'can bishop's see grow,
By many a new-converted Negro?
As friends to gov'rnment did not he
Their slaves at Boston late set free;
Enlist them all in black parade,
Set off with regimental red?
And were they not accounted then
Among his very bravest men?
And when such means she stoops to take,
Think you she is not wide awake?
As Eliphaz' good man in Job
Own'd num'rous allies thro' the globe;
[Page 24] Had brought the * stones along the street
To ratify a cov'nant meet,
And ev'ry beast from mice to lions,
To join in leagues of strict alliance:
Has she not cring'd, in spite of pride,
For like assistance far and wide?
Was there a creature so despis'd,
Its aid she has not sought and priz'd?
Till all this formidable league rose
Of Indians, British troops and Negroes.
And can you break these triple bands
By all your workmanship of hands?"
"Sir, quoth Honorius, we presume
You guess from past feats, what's to come,
And from the mighty deeds of Gage,
Foretell how fierce the war he'll wage,
You doubtless recollected here
The annals of his first great year:
While wearying out the Tories' patience,
He spent his breath in proclamations;
While all his mighty noise and vapour
Was used in wrangling upon paper;
And boasted military fits
Closed in the straining of his wits;
While troops in Boston commons plac'd
Laid nought but quires of paper waste;
While strokes alternate stunn'd the nation,
Protest, address and proclamation;
And speech met speech, fib clash'd with fib,
And Gage still answer'd, squib for squib.
Tho' this not all his time was lost on;
He fortified the town of Boston;
[Page 25] Built breastworks that might lend assistance
To keep the patriots at a distance;
(For howsoe'er the rogues might scoff,
He liked them best the farthest off)
Of mighty use and help to aid
His courage, when he felt afraid;
And whence right off in manful station,
He'd boldly pop his proclamation.
Our hearts must in our bosoms freeze
At such heroic deeds as these."
"Vain, quoth the 'Squire, you'll find to sneer
At Gage's first triumphant year;
For Providence, dispos'd to teaze us,
Can use what instruments it pleases.
To pay a tax at Peter's wish,
His chief cashier was once a fish;
An Ass, in Balaam's sad disaster,
Turn'd Orator and sav'd his master;
A Goose plac'd centry on his station
Preserv'd old Rome from desolation;
An English Bishop's * cur of late
Disclos'd rebellions 'gainst the state;
So Frogs croak'd Pharaoh to repentance,
And Lice revers'd the threat'ning sentence:
And heav'n can ruin you at pleasure,
By our scorn'd Gage, as well as Caesar.
Yet did our hero in these days
Pick up some laurel wreaths of praise.
And as the statuary of Seville
Made his crackt saint an exc'llent devil;
So tho' our war few triumphs brings,
We gain'd great fame in other things.
Did not our troops show much discerning,
And skill your various arts in learning?
Outwent they not each native Noodle
By far in playing Yanky-doodle;
[Page 26] Which, as 'twas your New-England tune,
'T was marvellous they took so soon?
And ere the year was fully thro',
Did not they learn to foot it too,
And such a dance as ne'er was known,
For twenty miles on end lead down?
Was there a Yanky trick you knew,
They did not play as well as you?
Did they not lay their heads together,
And gain your art to tar and feather,
When Col'nel Nesbitt thro' the town,
In triumph bore the country-clown?
Oh, what a glorious work to sing
The vet'ran troops of Britain's king,
Advent'ring for th' heroic laurel,
With bag of feathers and tar-barrel!
To paint the cart where culprits ride,
And Nesbitt marching at its side,
Great executioner and proud,
Like hangman high on Holbourn road;
And o'er the bright triumphal car
The waving ensigns of the war!
As when a triumph Rome decreed,
For great Calig'la's valiant deed,
Who had subdued the British seas,
By gath'ring cockles from their base;
In pompous car the conqu'ror bore
His captiv'd scallops from the shore,
Ovations gain'd his crabs for fetching,
And mighty feats of oyster-catching:
O'er Yankies thus the war begun,
They tarr'd and triumph'd over one;
And fought and boasted thro' the season,
With might as great, and equal reason.
Yet thus, tho' skill'd in vict'ry's toils,
They beast, not unexpert, in wiles.
For gain'd they not an equal fame in
The arts of secrecy and scheming?
[Page 27] In stratagems show'd mighty force,
And moderniz'd the Trojan horse,
Play'd o'er again those tricks Ulyssean,
In their fam'd Salem-expedition?
For as that horse, the Poets tell ye,
Bore Grecian armies in his belly,
Till their full reck'ning run, with joy
Their Sinon midwif'd them in Troy:
So in one ship was Leslie bold
Cramm'd with three hundred men in hold;
Equipp'd for enterprize and sail,
Like Jonas stow'd in womb of whale.
To Marblehead in depth of night,
The cautious vessel wing'd her flight.
And now the sabbath's silent day
Call'd all your Yankies off to pray;
Remov'd each prying jealous neighbour,
The scheme and vessel fell in labour;
Forth from its hollow womb pour'd hast'ly
The Myrmidons of Col'nel Leslie.
Not thicker o'er the blacken'd strand
The * frogs' detachment rush'd to land,
Equipp'd by onset or surprize
To storm th' entrenchment of the mice.
Thro' Salem strait without delay,
The bold battalion took its way,
March'd o'er a bridge in open sight
Of sev'ral Yankies arm'd for fight,
Then without loss of time, or men,
Veer'd round for Boston back again;
And found so well their projects thrive,
That ev'ry soul got home alive.
Thus Gage's arms did fortune bless
With triumph, safety and success:
But mercy is without dispute
His first and darling attribute;
[Page 28] So great it far outwent and conquer'd
His military skill at Concord.
There when the war he chose to wage
Shone the benevolence of Gage;
Sent troops to that ill-omen'd place
On errands meer of special grace,
And all the work he chose them for
Was to * prevent a civil war:
And for that purpose he projected
The only certain way t' effect it,
To take your powder, stores and arms,
And all your means of doing harms.
As prudent folks take knives away,
Lest children cut themselves at play.
And yet tho' this was all his scheme,
This war you still will charge on him;
And tho' he oft has swore and said it,
Stick close to facts and give no credit.
Think you, he wish'd you'd brave and beard him?
Why, 'twas the very thing that scar'd him.
He'd rather you should all have run,
Than stay'd to fire a single gun.
And for the civil war you lament,
Faith, you yourselves must take the blame in't;
And had you then, as he intended,
Giv'n up your arms, it must have ended.
Since that's no war, each mortal knows,
Where one side only gives the blows,
And th' other bears 'em; on reflection
The most you'll call it is correction;
Nor could the contest have gone higher,
If you had ne'er return'd the fire;
But when you shot, and not before,
It then commenc'd a civil war.
Else Gage, to end this controversy,
Had but corrected you in mercy:
[Page 29] Whom mother Britain old and wise,
Sent o'er the Col'nies to chastise;
Command obedience on their peril
Of ministerial whip and ferule;
And since they ne'er must come of age,
Govern'd and tutor'd them by Gage.
Still more, that this was all their errand,
The army's conduct makes apparent.
What tho' at Lexington you can say
They kill'd a few they did not fancy,
At Concord then, with manful popping,
Discharg'd a round the ball to open?
Yet when they saw your rebel-rout
Determin'd still to hold it out;
Did they not show their love to peace,
And wish that discord strait might cease,
Demonstrate, and by proofs uncommon,
Their orders were to injure no man?
For did not ev'ry Reg'lar run
As soon as e'er you fir'd a gun;
Take the first shot you sent them greeting,
As meant their signal for retreating;
And fearful if they staid for sport,
You might by accident be hurt,
Convey themselves with speed away
Full twenty miles in half a day?
Race till their legs were grown so weary,
They'd scarce suffice their weight to carry!
Whence Gage extols, from gen'ral hearsay,
The great * activ'ty of Lord Piercy;
Whose brave example led them on,
And spirited the troops to run;
And now may boast at royal levees
A Yanky-chace worth forty Chevys.
[Page 30] Yet you as vile as they were kind,
Pursued, like tygers, still behind,
Fir'd on them at your will, and shut
The town, as tho' you'd starve them out,
And with * parade prepost'rous hedg'd,
Affect to hold them there besieg'd;
(Tho' Gage, whom proclamations call
Your Gov'rnor and Vice-Admiral,
Whose pow'r gubernatorial still
Extends as far as Bunker's hill;
Where admiralty reaches clever,
Near half a mile up Mystic river,
Whose naval force commands the seas,
Can run away whene'er he please.)
Scar'd troops of Tories into town,
And burnt their hay and houses down,
And menac'd Gage, unless he'd flee,
To drive him headlong to the sea;
As once, to faithless Jews a sign,
The de'el, turn'd hog-reeve, did the swine.
But now your triumphs all are o'er;
For see from Britain's angry shore
With mighty hosts of valour join
Her Howe, her Clinton and Burgoyne.
As comets thro' the affrighted skies
Pour baleful ruins as they rise;
As AEtna with infernal roar
In conflagration sweeps the shore;
Or as † Abijah White, when sent
Our Marshfield friends to represent,
[Page 31] Himself while dread array involves
Commissions, pistols, swords, resolves,
In awful pomp descending down,
Bore terror on the factious town:
Not with less glory and affright,
Parade these Gen'rals forth to fight.
No more each Reg'lar * Col'nel runs
From whizzing beetles, as air-guns,
Thinks hornbugs bullets, or thro' fears
Muskitoes takes for musketeers?
Nor 'scapes, as tho' you'd gain'd allies
From Beelzebub's whole host of flies.
No bug their warlike hearts appals;
They better know the sound of balls.
I hear the din of battle bray,
The trump of horror marks its way.
I see afar the sack of cities,
The gallows strung with Whig-committees;
Your Moderators triced, like vermin,
And gate-posts graced with heads of Chairmen.
What pill'ries glad the Tories' eyes
With patriot-ears for sacrifice!
What whipping-posts your chosen race
Admit successive in embrace,
While each bears off his crimes, alack!
Like Bunyan's pilgrim, on his back!
Where then, when Tories scarce get clear,
Shall Whigs and Congresses appear?
What rocks and mountains shall you call
To wrap you over with their fall,
[Page 32] And save your heads in these sad weathers,
From fire and sword, and tar and feathers!
For lo, with British troops tarbright,
Again our Nesbitt heaves in sight!
He comes, he comes, your lines to storm,
And rigg your troops in uniform!
To meet such heroes, will ye brag,
With fury arm'd, and feather bagg;
Who wield their missile pitch and tar,
With engines new in British war?
Lo, where our mighty navy brings
Destruction on her canvas-wings,
While thro' the deeps her potent thunder
Shall sound th' alarm to rob and plunder!
As Phoebus first, so Homer speaks,
When he march'd out t' attack the Greeks,
'Gainst mules sent forth his arrows fatal,
And slew th' auxiliaries, their cattle;
So where our * ships shall stretch the keel,
What sheep and oxen shall they steal!
Disperse whole troops of horse, and pressing,
Make cows surrender at discretion;
Attack your hens, like Alexanders,
And reg'ments rout of geese and ganders,
Or where united arms combine
Lead captive many a herd of swine!
Then rush in dreadful fury down
To fire on ev'ry seaport town;
Display their glory and their wits,
Fright unarm'd children into fits,
And stoutly from th' unequal fray,
Make many a woman run away!
And can ye doubt whene'er we please
Our chiefs shall boast such deeds as these?
[Page 33] Have we not chiefs transcending far,
The old fam'd thunderbolts of war;
Beyond the brave romantic fighters,
Stiled swords of death by novel-writers?
Nor in romancing ages e'er rose
So terrible a tier of heroes.
From Gage, what flashes fright the waves!
How loud a blunderbuss is Graves!
How Newport dreads the blustring sallies,
That thunder from our popgun, Wallace,
While noise in formidable strains
Spouts from his thimble-full of brains!
I see you sink with aw'd surprize!
I see our Tory-brethren rise!
And as the sect'ries Sandemanian,
Our friends, describe their wish'd Millennium,
Tell how the world in ev'ry region
At once shall own their true religion;
For heav'n with plagues of awful dread
Shall knock all heretics o' th' head,
And then their church, the meek in spirit,
The earth, as promis'd, shall inherit,
From the dead wicked, as heirs male,
And next remainder-men in tail:
Such ruin shall the Whigs oppress!
Such spoils our Tory friends shall bless!
While confiscation at command
Shall stalk in horror thro' the land,
Shall give your Whig-estates away,
And call our brethren into play.
And can ye doubt or scruple more,
These things are near you at the door?
Behold! for tho' to reas'ning blind,
Signs of the times ye sure might mind,
And view impending fate as plain
As ye'd foretell a show'r of rain.
Hath not heav'n warn'd you what must ensue,
And Providence declar'd against you;
[Page 34] Hung forth its dire portents of war,
By * signs and beacons in the air;
Alarm'd old women all around
By fearful noises under ground;
While earth for many a dozen leagues
Groan'd with her dismal load of Whigs?
Was there a meteor far and wide
But muster'd on the Tory-side?
A star malign that has not bent
Its aspects for the Parliament,
Foreboding your defeat and misery;
As once they fought against old Sisera?
Was there a cloud that spread the skies,
But bore our armies of allies?
While dreadful hosts of fire stood forth
'Mid baleful glimm'rings from the North;
Which plainly shows which part they join'd,
For North's the minister, ye mind;
Whence oft your quibblers in gazettes
On Northern blasts have strain'd their wits;
And think ye not the clouds know how
To make the pun as well as you?
Did there arise an apparition,
But grinn'd forth ruin to sedition?
A death-watch, but has join'd our leagues,
And click'd destruction to the Whigs?
Hear'd ye not, when the wind was fair,
At night our or'tors in the air,
That, loud as admiralty-libel,
Read awful † chapters from the bible,
And death and deviltry denounc'd,
And told you how you'd soon be trounc'd?
[...] to join our conou'ring side
Heav'n, earth and hell at once allied!
[Page 35] See from your overthrow and end
The Tories paradise ascend;
Like that new world that claims its station
Beyond the final conflagration!
I see the day that lots your share
In utter darkness and despair;
The day of joy, when North, our Lord,
His faithful fav'rites shall reward!
No Tory then shall set before him
Small wish of 'Squire, or Justice Quorum;
But 'fore his unmistaken eyes
See lordships, posts and pensions rise.
Awake to gladness then, ye Tories,
Th' unbounded prospect lies before us?
The pow'r display'd in Gage's banners
Shall cut Amer'can lands to manors,
And o'er our happy conquer'd ground
Dispense estates and titles round!
Behold, the world shall stare at new setts
Of home-made * earls in Massachusetts;
Admire, array'd in ducal tassels,
Your Ol'vers, Hutchinson's and Vassals;
See join'd in ministerial work
His grace of Albany and York!
What lordships from each carv'd estate,
On our New-York Assembly wait!
What titled † Jauncys, Gales and Billops;
Lord Brush, lord Wilkins and lord Philips!
In wide-sleev'd pomp of godly guise,
What solemn rows of bishops rise!
Aloft a card'nal's hat is spread
O'er punster ‡ Cooper's rev'rend head!
[Page 36] In Vardell, that poetic zealot,
I view a lawn-bedizen'd prelate!
While mitres fall, as 'tis their duty,
On heads of Chandler and Auchmuty!
Knights, viscounts, barons shall ye meet,
As thick as pavements in the street!
Ev'n I perhaps, heav'n speed my claim,
Shall fix a Sir before my name.
For titles all our foreheads ache;
For what blest changes can they make!
Place rev'rence, grace and excellence
Where neither claim'd the least pretence;
Transform by patent's magic words
Men, likest devils, into lords;
Whence commoners to peers translated
Are justly said to be created!
Now where commissioners ye saw
Shall boards of nobles deal you law!
Long-rob'd comptrollers judge your rights,
And tide-waiters start up in knights!
While Whigs subdued in slavish awe,
Our wood shall hew, our water draw,
And bless that mildness, when past hope,
Which sav'd their necks from noose of rope.
For as to gain assistance we
Design their Negroes to set free;
For Whigs, when we enough shall bang 'em,
Perhaps 'tis better not to hang 'em;
Except their chiefs; the vulgar knaves
Will do more good preserv'd for slaves."
"'Tis well, Honorius cried, your scheme
Has painted out a pretty dream.
We can't confute your second-sight;
We shall be slaves and you a knight:
These things must come; but I divine
They'll come not in your day, or mine.
But oh, my friends, my brethren, hear,
And turn for once th' attentive ear.
[Page 37] Ye see how prompt to aid our woes,
The tender mercies of our foes;
Ye see with what unvaried rancour
Still for our blood their minions hanker,
Nor aught can sate their mad ambition,
From us, but death, or worse, submission,
Shall these then riot in our spoil,
Reap the glad harvest of our toil,
Rise from their country's ruin proud,
And roll their chariot-wheels in blood?
And can ye sleep while high outspread
Hangs desolation o'er your head.
See Gage with inauspicious star
Has oped the gates of civil war;
When streams of gore, from freemen slain,
Encrimson'd Concord's fatal plain,
Whose warning voice with awful sound,
Still cries, like Abel's from the ground;
And heav'n attentive to its call,
Shall doom the proud oppressor's fall.
Rise then, ere ruin swift suprize,
To victory, to vengeance rise!
Hark, how the distant din alarms!
The echoing trumpet breathes, to arms.
From provinces remote, afar,
The sons of glory rouze to war.
'Tis freedom calls; th' enraptur'd found
The Apalachian hills rebound:
The Georgian shores her voice shall hear,
And start from lethargies of fear.
From the parch'd zone, with glowing ray,
Where pours the sun intenser day,
To shores where icy waters roll,
And tremble to the dusky pole,
Inspir'd by freedom's heav'nly charms,
United nations wake to arms.
The star of conquest lights their way,
And guides their vengeance on their prey—
[Page 38] Yes, tho' tyrannic force oppose,
Still shall they triumph o'er their foes,
Till heav'n the happy land shall bless
With safety, liberty and peace.
And ye whose souls of dastard mould
Start at the brav'ry of the bold;
To love your country who pretend,
Yet want all spirit to defend;
Who feel your fancies so prolific,
Engend'ring vision'd whims terrific,
O'er-run with horrors of coercion,
Fire, blood and thunder in reversion,
King's standards, pill'ries, confiscations,
And Gage's scarecrow proclamations,
With all the trumpery of fear;
Hear bullets whizzing in your rear;
Who scarce could rouze, if caught in fray,
Presence of mind to run away;
See nought but halters rise to view
In all your dreams (and dreams are true)
And while these phantoms haunt your brains,
Bow down the willing neck to chains:
Heav'ns! are ye sons of sires so great,
Immortal in the fields of fate,
Who brav'd all deaths by land or sea,
Who bled, who conquer'd, to be free!
Hence, coward souls, the worst disgrace
Of our forefather's valiant race!
Hie homeward from the glorious field;
There turn the wheel, the distaff wield;
Act what ye are, nor dare to stain
The warrior's arms with touch profane:
There beg your more heroic wives
To guard your children and your lives;
Beneath their aprons find a screen,
Nor dare to mingle more with men."
As thus he said, the Tories' anger
Could now restrain itself no longer.
[Page 39] Who tried before by many a freak, or
Insulting noise, to stop the speaker;
Swung th' unoil'd hinge of each pew-door;
Their feet kept shuffling on the floor;
Made their disapprobation known
By many a murmur, hum and groan;
That to his speech supplied the place
Of counterpart in thorough-base:
As bag-pipes, while the tune they breathe,
Still groan and grumble underneath;
Or as the fam'd Demosthenes
Harangued the rumbling of the seas,
Held forth with eloquence so grave
To audience loud of wind and wave;
And had a stiller congregation
Than Tories are to hear th' oration.
But now the storm grew high and louder
As nearer thundrings of a cloud are,
And ev'ry soul with heart and voice
Supplied his quota of the noise:
Each listning ear was set on torture
Each Tory bell'wing out, to order;
And some, with tongue not low or weak,
Were clam'ring fast, for leave to speak;
The moderator, with great vi'lence,
The cushion thump'd with "Silence, silence;"
The constable to ev'ry prater
Bawl'd out, "Pray hear the moderator;"
Some call'd the vote, and some in turn
Were screaming high, "Adjourn, adjourn:"
Not chaos heard such jars and clashes
When all the el'ments fought for places.
Each bludgeon soon for blows was tim'd;
Each fist stood ready cock'd and prim'd;
The storm each moment louder grew;
His sword the great M'Fingal drew;
Prepar'd in either chance to share,
To keep the peace, or aid the war.
[Page 40] Nor lack'd they each poetic being,
Whom bards alone are skill'd in seeing;
Plum'd victory stood perch'd on high,
Upon the pulpit-canopy,
To join, as is her custom tried,
Like Indians, on the strongest side;
The destinies with shears and distaff,
Drew near their threads of life to twist off;
Old Jove had got his scales and weights
To balance their impending fates;
The furies 'gan to feast on blows,
And broken heads or bloody nose:
When on a sudden from without
Arose a loud terrific shout;
And strait the people all at once heard
Of tongues an universal concert;
Like AEsop's times, as fable runs,
When ev'ry creature talk'd at once,
Or like the variegated gabble
That craz'd the carpenters of Bable.
Each party soon forgot the quarrel,
And let the other go on parole;
Eager to know what fearful matter
Had conjur'd up such gen'ral clatter;
And left the church in thin array,
As tho' it had been lecture-day.
Our 'Squire M'Fingal straitway beckon'd
The constable to stand his second,
And fallied forth with aspect fierce
The croud assembled to disperse.
The moderator out of view
Beneath a bench had lain perdue;
Peep'd up his head to view the fray,
Beheld the wranglers run away,
And left alone with solemn face,
Adjourn'd them without time or place.
END OF CANTO FIRST