A Tribute to the swinish multitude: being a choice collection of patriotic songs. / Collected by the celebrated R. Thomson.

A Tribute to the swinish multitude: being a choice collection of patriotic songs. / Collected by the celebrated R. Thomson.

Table of contents

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Title page

TO THE PUBLIC, ALIAS THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE."

A TRIBUTE, &c.

A NEW SONG.

SONG.

BURKE's ADDRESS TO THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE."

SONG. [PART SECOND.] THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE's" REPLY TO BURKE's ADDRESS.

SONG. SCOTCH NICK; OR OLD HARRY's PLAIN CONFESSION.

SONG.

SONG. FRENCH LIBERTY.

SONG. BURKE's LAMENTATION FOR THE LOST AGE OF CHIVALRY.

THE KEY.

PLAINTIVE.

SONG.

SONG.

SONG. PAINE's WELCOME TO GREAT-BRITAIN.

SONG.

SONG. WHITEHALL ALARMED! AND A COUNCIL CALLED!!!

SONG. FRANCE's LAMENTATION On the APPROACH of the DUKE of BRUNSWICK.

1

[PART SECOND.] DUKE BOBADIL's RETREAT.

SONG.

SONG. THE RIGHTS OF MAN.

SONG. WHA DOES THIS BONNET FIT?

THE INQUIRER AND HIS ECHO. A DIALOGUE.

SONG. ADAPTED TO THE Sentiments of a RED-HOT ARISTOCRAT.

SONG. Kings a great BLESSING to the nation.

SONG.

SONG. TO THE LONDON CORRESPONDING SOCIETY.

SONG.

SONG. The MARSEILLES MARCH.

SONG. SUNG BY MR. DIGNUM AT THE Anniversary of the Revolution of 1688. Held at the London Tavern, Nov. 1792.

SONG. SUNG AT THE Anniversary of the Revolution of 1688. Held at the London Tavern, Novemver 5, 1792.

SONG. THE PORTERS' GOSSIP, OR AN IRISH DEFENCE OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT.

SONG.

COMPARISON.

STANZAS TO THE CITIZEN GENERAL DUMOURIER.

SONNET To BRITAIN, 1766.

ODE to the DRUM.

TO MANKIND. AN ODE.

SONG. FOR THE ANNIVERSARY of the REVOLUTION.

SONG. CA IRA.

*SONG.

THE ORIGIN OF KINGS. A FRAGMENT.

HUMAN DEBASEMENT. A FRAGMENT.

*GLEE FOR THREE VOICES.

SONG.

LIBERTY FIRE.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

A TRIBUTE TO THE SWINISH MULTITUDE.

§

§

[Page]

A TRIBUTE TO THE SWINISH MULTITUDE: BEING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF PATRIOTIC SONGS.

COLLECTED BY THE CELEBRATED R. THOMSON.

LONDON: PRINTED. NEW-YORK: RE-PRINTED BY SAMUEL LOUDON & SON, No. 82, WATER-STREET. M,DCC,XCV.

TO THE PUBLIC, ALIAS THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE."

[Page]

OYE factious, seditious, and discontented crew! will you never believe that you are happy, when no more than a bare belief is requisite to make you so?— Infatuated mortals! are you determined, like Lovegold, to "feel, feel, feel, and touch, touch, touch," before you will allow your happiness to be real? Dreadful obstinacy! how unacquainted are you with the wonder-working powers of imagination!—Can you not believe that your hunger and thirst are gratified, unless you eat and drink? Can you not believe that you are cloathed and warm, unless you are covered from the inclemency of the season?—O what political unbelief is this?—To what then must your wise legislators have recourse? they have bawled to you till their lungs are jaded; they have written to you till words are exhausted, and ye still obstinately continue to be unhappy. What! will you not believe the King himself, and all the Royal Family? Not believe the Prime Minister, [Page]the Privy-Council, and all the Bishops! the Judges, Counsellors, and Lawyers! the Borough-Mongers, the Placemen, and all the Pensioners! the Dukes and the Earls, and Marquisses, the Barons, the Knights, the Lords in Waiting of the Bed-chamber, of the Stole, and, of the Golden Stick! the Commanders by Sea, and Land; the Commissioners and Officers of all the great Houses! the Magistrates and Justices, the Lord-Mayor of London, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Mrs. Jordan, the Duke of Brunswick, the Duke of Richmond, and all the Vestrymen, and Parish Officers!! —Deluded multitude! here is a collection of the happiest creatures in the world, united together to pursuade you that you are extremely happy, and yet you give no credit to what they may either say or swear! O shocking stupidity! they will then cure you of your Malady, by a different process; the Tower shall be furnished with solid argument, a Military system of Animal Magnetism shall be adopted—you shall be thrown into a Crisis, and kept there till you confess you are exceedingly happy!—Think, besotted creatures! how much money is now expending to pursuade you that you are happy! on Fortifications, on Proclamations, on Newspapers, at Taverns and Committees, as much as would liberate all the Insolvent Debtors in the four counties! Think, think, I say, and be persuaded you are happy, for you must pay all the Reckoning!

[Page] Again, how will you be able to resist the irrefutable logic of Musquetry and Artillery? or how will you be able to deny you are HAPPY, when the sword is pointed to your breast? recollect how successfully Mahomet argued this way, and believe you are happy in this world, lest they silence your murmurs, by sending you into another, to search for happiness! but alas you are a banditti of incorrigible Heretics: I know you will not believe you are happy, although the Holiest Man in Canterbury were to declare it to you on his marrowbones!

But let me, for a few moments, direct your attention to the great scource of all your happiness; to the most glorious and happy Constitution!—Take a view of each well constructed system in each department of government; and you may be astonished at the scence thrown open before you! The whole is a Paradise of Delights!

Look into the STATE!—'Tis true it has corruptions and defects, as poor Edmund says, and you must peep at them with due caution—But see your Liberties defended, your property protected, by men of the most unsullied virtue. The great Treasury of the Nation, which is accumulated from your hard labour and industry, is entrusted to integrity itself; and distributed with the most scrupulous exactness, on the pure principles of the RIGHTS OF MAN. The most favourite Pensionors cannot finger a guinea till he has earnt it; nor has the most exalted man in office a single shilling more than his merit entitles him to. What is £ 4000. [Page]per annum to one great man, for introducing another great man to kiss a Third Great Man's Hand?—'tis cheap as dirt. Nay it is worth half the money to see them at work!—in time of war you pay double taxes, and is it not necessary the expences of war should be defrayed?—In time of peace you also pay double taxes, to defray the expences of Peace. Ye senseless ideots! These, and such like things, constitute the chief glory of the State!!

Look again into the Law; the scene still brightens before you! Englishmen! you have the cheapest merket for Justice in the whole universe! how happily adjusted are the laws between debtor and creditor! no unnecessary delay attends the action; no anxiety of mind between the contending parties; no neglect of business; no extravagant expences;—O! what a glorious purchase of parchment and stamps do you make here! with what composure do you look forward from term to term! in the hands of Mercy and Justice, what can you fear! nothing in the final decision of the court, to ruffle your spirits, or brake the repose of your family! like fat oysters ye are gently opened and separated, that the happy stuff, which lies between, may be applied to enrich the glorious Constitution.

And now take a view of the Church! and see the angelical life of the Holy Priesthood; here is Paradise Regained!—by divine permission, here is heaven itself let down upon earth! an assemblage of all the [Page] races and virtues which dignify and adorn human nature —how equally proportioned is the hire to the labourer! No lazy Bishops, no fine cure places, no dissipated Priests, no starving Curates—O no, no!—Justice, temperance, truth, and brotherly love, animate and pervades the whole; here is a scourge for the wickedness of men in high life, and a consolation for the miseries of the poor—here is religion taught by the best masters with able assistants, on the most reasonable terms! a little entrance money only is required; marrying, christening, confirming, visiting, and burying, almost for an old song; and tythes exactly according to circumstances! Thrice happy, and glorious Constitution!!! we are lost in the contemplation of thy manifold blessings.

Hear then, ye "SWINISH MULTITUDE!" the Statesmen at Whitehall, the Judges on the Bench, all the Parish Officers in the nation, their dependants and expectants, proclaim aloud that ye are HAPPY! and who so competent to judge of your happiness? Beware of that fatal error of judging for yourselves. What! think for yourselves! O let me intreat, nay let me insist upon it, that you never think of thinking for yourselves; for the more you think, the more you will differ from these wise and happy men in your way of thinking: Think also, how many mild, happy and glorious Constitutions have been ruined by men thinking for themselves! Let your betters, therefore think for you; because it stands to reason, they must think best; and if the phantom should again seize your brain; and tempt you to conceive [Page]you are not happy, you must petition the happy Constitution to furnish you with some pa [...]nt engines, pullies and screws, whereby you may at any time wind up your imagination to their pitch, dance to their music, and be as happy as themselves.

Crede quod habes, et habet, said Erasmus; with this word of advice I take my leave; without shattering you, courting your patronage, or saying a single word about the merit of the Songs.

R. THOMSON.

A TRIBUTE, &c.

[Page]

A NEW SONG.

To an old Tune—viz. "God save the king."

GOD save—"THE RIGHTS OF MAN!"

Give him a heart to scan

Blessings so dear!

Let them be spread around,

Wherever Man is found,

And with the welcome sound

Ravish his ear!

See, from the universe,

Darkness and clouds disperse;

Mankind awake!

Reason and Truth appear,

Freedom advances near,

Monarchs with terror hear—

See how they quake.

Sore have we felt the stroke;

Long have we borne the yoke;

Sluggish and tame:

[Page] But now the Lion roars,

And a loud note he pours;

Spreading from distant shores,

LIBERTY'S flame!

Let us with France agree,

And bid the WORLD BE FREE,—

Leading the way.

Let Tyrants all conspire;

Fearless of sword and fire,

FREEDOM shall ne'er retire,

FREEDOM shall sway!

Godlike, and great the strife,

Life will indeed be life,

When we prevail:

Death in so just a cause,

Crowns us with loud applause,

And from tyrannic laws,

Bids us—ALL HAIL!

O'er the Germanic pow'rs,

Big indignation low'rs,

Ready to fall! *

Let the rude savage host,

In their long numbers boast,

Freedom's almighty trust,

Laughs at them all.

[Page]

FAME! Let thy trumpet sound,

Tell all the world around,

Tell each degree!

Tell Ribbonds, Crowns, and Stars,

Kings, Traitors, Troops, and Wars,

Plans, Councils, Plots, and Jars,

FRENCHMEN are FREE!!

God save—"THE RIGHTS OF MAN!"

Give him a heart to scan

Blessings so dear!

Let them be spread around,

Wherever Man is found,

And with a welcome sound

Ravish his ear!

SONG.

BURKE's ADDRESS TO THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE."

Tune "Derry down, down," &c.

YE vile SWINISH herd, in the sty of taxation,

What would ye be after—disturbing the nation?

Give over your grunting—be off—to your sty!

Nor dare to look out, if a king passes by:

Get ye down, down—down, keep ye down!

[Page]

Do you know what a king is? By Patrick I'll tell ye;

He has power in his pocket to buy you and sell you;

To make you his soldiers, or keep you at work;

To hang you, and cure you, for ham or salt pork!

Get ye down!

Do you think that a KING is no more than a man?

Ye brutish, ye swinish, irrational clan!

I swear by his office, his right is divine,

To slog you, and feed you, and treat you like swine!

Get ye down!

To be sure, I have said—but I spoke it abrupt—

That "the state is defective, and also corrupt;"

Yet, remember I told you with caution to peep,

For swine at a distance we prudently keep—

Get ye down!

Now the church and the state, to keep each other warm,

Are married together. And where is the harm?

How healthy and wealthy are husband and wife!

But swine are excluded the conjugal life—

Get ye down!

The state, it is true, has grown fat upon SWINE,

The church's weak stomach on TYTHE-PIG can dine;

But neither you know, as they roast by the fire,

Have a right to find fault with the cooks, or enquire.

Get ye down!

[Page]

"What use do we make of your money?" you say;

Why, the first law of nature:—We take our own pay—

And next on our friends a few pensions bestow,

And to you we apply when our treasure runs low.

Get ye down!

Consider our boroughs, ye grumbling swine!

At corruption and taxes, and never repine:

If we only proclaim, "YE ARE HAPPY!"—They say,

"We ARE happy."—Believe and be happy as they!

Get ye down!

What know ye of Commons, of Kings, or of Lords,

But what the dim light of Taxation affords?

Be contented with that—and no more of your rout;

Or a new proclamation shall muzzle your snout!

Get ye down!

And now for the SUN—or the LIGHT of the Day;

"It doth not belong to a PITT," you will say—

I tell you be silent and hush all your jars,

Or he'll charge you a farthing a-peace for the Stars.

Get ye down!

Here's myself, and his darkness, and Harry Dund-ass;

Scotch, English, and Irish, with fronts made of brass—

A cord plated three-fold will stand a good pull,

Against Sawney, and Patrick and old Johnny Bull!!!

Get ye down!

[Page]

To conclude, then, no more about Man and his Rights,

Tom Paine, and a rabble of Liberty-lights;

That your are but our "SWINE," if ye ever forget,

We'll throw you alive to the HORRIBLE PITT!

Get ye down, down—down, keep ye down!

SONG. [PART SECOND.] THE "SWINISH MULTITUDE's" REPLY TO BURKE's ADDRESS.

APOSTATE! give over your eloquence, pray!

No more on the subject of Monarchy say:

Exalted in office, and fed by the Swine—

If we should desert you, you'll catch a decline.

Tumble down, down—down—come ye down!

But we cannot well brook to be called the Swine,

Let man have his Rights, and the epithet's thine;

Apostate thou art—and allur'd by the hire,

Return like a sow that was wash'd—to the mire.

Tumble down, &c.

[Page]

Our thanks we return—you may think it a joke,

For the blessed enquiry your writings provoke;

We thank you for thwarting your own bad design;

The bacon and pork are restor'd to the swine.

Tumble down, &c.

No longer, like asses we tamely submit,

And tremble like fiends at the mouth of a Pit;—

You are but our servants, our delegate powers,

If we speak but the word, you must fade, and like flow'rs

Tumble down, &c.

Too long, it is true, we resembled the swine,

And stood in the market all passive as kine.

But no longer the grunting of swine ye shall hear

The voice of the Lion, now pierces your ear.

Tumble down, &c.

Apostate beware, and with caution advance;

The ground you are treading is fertile as France;

If you once overheat and inflame the Old Bull,

He'll toss the rich dogs from their soft packs of wool.

Tumble down, &c.

No longer, oppressor, insult the opprest;

Our grievances may and they shall be redrest;

In the fable your picture—behold in that glass—

"The Lion was rous'd by the heel of an ass!

Tumble down, &c.

[Page]

If the best Constitution that ever was known;

And the best of all monarchs is now on the throne;

If his peers, and his statesmen, and laws are the best,

They can be no worse—to be brought to the test.

Tumble down, &c.

No longer thou sophist, attempt to deceive,

To plunder, and blind us, and laugh in your sleeve;

Apostate, thy payment, for pimping—depends

On those you're insulting—and with them it ends.

Tumble down, &c.

The faults of the people you freely make known,

Whilst the mantle of charity covers the throne;

But in France 'tis a doctrine the people know well,

That kings are as apt, as the mob, to rebel—

And come down, &c.

Proclamations we dread not—but rather desire,

They say to the sleepers—"Arise and Enquire!"

For the good of the nation no more do we seek,

Than a New Proclamation, at least once a-week.

Tumble down, &c.

The pow'r of enquiry no despot can bind,

For millions already have freedom of mind:

Let Reason be heard, and let Reason go round,

And soon on the globe not a tyrant is found.

Tumbled down, down—down, tumbled down!

[Page]

SONG. SCOTCH NICK; OR OLD HARRY's PLAIN CONFESSION.

Tune "Vauxhall Watch."

FAREWELL to Scotland's barren ground;

A better country I have found,

Where wealth and customers abound,

For "Wha wants me?"

Was ever such a lucky Scot!

So snug a birth—so rich a lot!

I'll sell the good things I have got,

Crying, "Wha wants me?"

No guilty thoughts disturb my mind,

I left my conscience safe behind!

And all my happiness I find

In "Wha wants me?"

You envious Scotchmen all, behold!

You say I have my country sold;

Then see what heaps of shining gold,

For "Wha wants me?"

[Page]

The Test Act might have been repeal'd,

And all your wide divisions heal'd,

Had you but properly appeal'd

To "Wha wants me?"

To any measure I'll agree—

Let tyrants rule, or men be free;

Let this my happy freedom be,

Crying "Wha wants me?"

It Paine were chose to rule the land,

And he should take me by the hand;

I would submit to his command,

Crying "Wha wants me?"

Then once for all, I let you know,

Let kings or people rule below;

If I'm in office, round I'll go,

Crying "Wha wants me?"

SONG.

Tune "Sweet Willy O!

THE pride of the nation is Sweet Willy O!

The pride of the nation is Sweet Willy O!

The people around

His virtue resound,

So great is the fame of the Sweet Willy O!

[Page]

He would be a statesman, the deep Willy O!

He would be a statesman, the deep Willy O!

From our low abyss

To raise us to bliss,

Was the ambition of Sweet Willy O!

The king is delighted with Sweet Willy O!

The king is delighted with Sweet Willy O!

His WISHES to crown

He taxes us down

G. R. is before us wherever we go!

The poor are enraptur'd with dear Billy O!

The poor are enraptur'd with dear Billy O!

If taxes are high,

And burthen'd they cry,

They find their relief in the PIT—Billy O!

How free are the stars! O the kind Billy O!

Yet how tempting the sight to a PIT—Billy O!

Tho' great the amount,

He takes no account,

Because computation would puzzle him so!

The SUN is shut up in a PIT—Billy O!

The Ruler of Day in a PIT!—Billy O!

To buy Light and Air,

To the PIT we repair,

Our blessings are all in the PIT—Billy O!

[Page]

Long life, light, and health to the Sweet Billy O!

Thy foes let a darkness surround, Billy O!

How should we get bread,

If Willy was dead!

Taxation would fall in thy Pit—Billy O!

To see him interr'd in the Pit—Willy O!

To see him interr'd in the Pit—Willy O!

How would your thoughts run

Upon the free SUN!

When darkness encloses the PIT BILLY O!

The staircase as dark as the Pit—Willy O!

Where scarce the right step we can hit, Billy O!

Once more the broad day

Would clearly display,

And chase thy black relic away, Billy O!

An end to our darkness and Pit—Billy O!

Our sun will arise when you set, Billy O!

The houses long blind

Their eyes would soon find,

And shed a sweet tear on thy Pit, Billy O!

[Page]

SONG. FRENCH LIBERTY.

Tune "In the Garb of Old Gaul."

WHEN first the great Senate of Frenchmen agreed,

From Corruption and Bondage—to die or be freed—

By troop all surrounded—defenceless—unarm'd,

Compos'd and collected, they sat unalarm'd.

CHORUS.

Such was their love of Liberty—their ardour to be free,

And with the Gallic Heroes, let surrounding pow'rs agree,

The tidings roll

From poll to poll,

Till Freedom crowns the day

And round the Globe to all the race.

Her banners display—

Undaunted and firm as the Consul of Rome,

Unappall'd in their councils—before them their doom—

"We'll die or be free!"—to the people they cry!

"We'll die or be free!"—Hark the people reply!

Such was their love for Liberty, &c.

Majestic they rose in a warlike array,

And drove from their stations the tyrants away;

The heads of the nation, confounded to see—

Surrender'd, and glad to surrender or flee.

Such was their love of Liberty, &c.

[Page]

In vain all the crowns 'gainst the people combine,

The whole human race are now forming the line,

While Frenchmen the first in the field lead the way,

And call to the nations around, "Come away!"

Such is their love of Liberty, &c.

In battle triumphant see Freedom appear!

Over heaps of the dead—rushing on with the spear!

Inspired with ambition a country to save,

And give the invaders a part of their grave.

Such was their love of Liberty, &c.

Exulting the news! let the trumpet of Fame,

Aloud to the Slave, and the Despot proclaim;

They boasted to slaughter, to waste, and reduce;

But soon GALLIC Power made them sue for a truce.

Such was their love of Liberty, &c.

Unshaken and firm—let the Despots unite,

Let the Statesmen and Placemen get hirelings to write,

While armies from conquest to conquest pursue,

THE CAUSE OF THE PEOPLE shall flourish anew!

Such is their love of Liberty, &c.

Great Heroes of Freedom, when ages are gone,

When Kings are forgotten, and Tyrants unknown,

Your fame will be echo'd from shore unto shore,

Till [...], and People, and Time are no more.

[Page]

CHORUS.

Such is our love of Liberty—our ardour to be free,

And with the Gallic Heroes let surrounding pow'rs agree;

The tidings roll

From pole to pole,

Till Freedom crowns the day;

And round the Globe, to all the race

Her banners display!—

SONG. BURKE's LAMENTATION FOR THE LOST AGE OF CHIVALRY.

THE KEY.

‘SURELY (says he, speaking of the last Queen of France) never LIGHTED ON THIS ORB, which she hardly seemed to TOUCH, a more delightful VISION! I saw her JUST ABOVE THE HORISON, decorating and chearing the elevated sphere she just began to move in—glittering like the MORNING STAR! full of life and splendor, and joy. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge (What?) even a LOOK that threatened her with an insult!!!—But the Age of Chivalry is gone!—The GLORY of Europe is extinguished forever!!!’—BURKE on the French Revolution, page 112.

[Page] SURELY, Reader, if you possess one grain of common sense, you will say that either this passage is not quoted from BURKE'S celebrated Defence of Royalty, or that the author took leave of his senses when he wrote it.—I have looked into his book three times, that I might not mistake, and I am willing to make affidavit before our sovereign lord the king, that you may find it in page 112.

PLAINTIVE.

I SAW, but O I surely dream'd!

A vision dropt from heaven (it seem'd);

The world a brighter lustre wore,

Than ever Man beheld before.

Philosophers could not declare

Which power did most attraction share;

If to the vision, earth arose,

Or she descended—no one knows.

I saw the angel skip around,

Her heavenly feet scarce touch'd the ground;

She lighted on a splendid throne,

The glory then of Europe shone.

Ten thousand Dons and Cavaliers

Around her stood with swords and spears,

To be her slaves was all they sought,

Thus was "the grace of life unbought."

[Page]

Methought—O! how my brains must reel!

Ten thousand swords of magic steel,

Would leap their scabbards to chastise

Those who had not elastic eyes!

But, O! how Time's revolving glass

Brings unexpected things to pass!

The Queen is driven from her throne,

The Age of Chivalry is gone!

Where are the Quixottes now, and where

The Sanchos to defend the fair?—

The Dulcinea's left to moan

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

Hy, Quixotte, thro' the air, like wind,

And Sancho, too, get up behind!

Alas! no Sancho here, nor Don,

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

O peerless Queen! thou art bereft

Of all thy friends, and with me left;

With WOEFUL FACES thus we moan,

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

Enchanters! O restore the knights,

That can so well assert her rights!

Alas! Enchanters are unknown!

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

[Page]

Ten thousand swords why do ye sleep?

Your drousy scabbards quickly leap;

The crew with insult all look on;

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

Come kingly butchers, then, advance,

And desolate the plains of France;

Alas! ye move but slowly on!

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

Then bring my Rosinante, that I

My prowess in the field may try;

It would reward my toil and pain,

Could I restore the AGE again.

But, ah!—No more—I will not go,

REASON appears my potent foe;

'Tis REASON keeps her from the throne,

—The Age of Chivalry is gone!

SONG.

Tune, "Ye Gods, ye gave to me a Wife."

OUR fathers left a race of Kings,

And we were glad to find them;

O how we lov'd the pretty things!

And laugh'd and ran behind them.

[Page]

We laid our necks beneath their feet,

So humble and so lowly;

And they rode over as was mete,

Still pleas'd to see our folly.

But warmly now our hearts incline,

To rule the land without them;

The MOULDY PARCHMENTS we resign,

And from the globe we'll rout 'em.

SONG.

Tune "Chevy Chace."

THEY prosper best who have no king,

To rob them and enthral;

Then let our acclamations ring,

At ev'ry tyrant's fall.

To drive the despots from their throne,

And statesmen from their place:

A woeful fighting is begun,

Among the human race.

Now Edmund Burke, a rueful knight,

(Whose tender heart did ach,

To see the people gain their RIGHT)

A solemn vow did make.

[Page]

That paper—pen—and eke ink-horn,

Should put them to the rout;

The child shall bless that is unborn,

The writings he sent out. *

His thoughts with phrase theatric clad,

Were strong to melt the ear;

And metaphoric speech he had

To make his subject clear.

With LOYALTY his bosom glow'd,

And as he lov'd the gold;

A little pension was bestow'd,

To make him fight more bold.

The rules of errantry he knew,

And did to France repair;

To bid his peerless Queen, adieu!

And thus address'd the fair:

"Delightful vision! it is mete,

"Thy blessing ere I go!

"I'll soon return and at thy feet,

"Lay all my conquests low!"

She smil'd—When turning quickly round,

He vanish'd from her sight;

And light a hero took his ground,

Already for the sight.—

[Page]

These tidings came to Thomas Paine,

A man of courage bold;

Who could the "Rights of Man" explain,

And king-craft too unfold.

With heart and head both sound and clear,

The cause he undertook;

And now in battle both appear,

And Book appears to Book.

Loud vaunted Edmund in the field,

Like Quixotte'mongst the sheep;

Who thought with such a sword and shield

To end them at a sweep!

The valour of Sir Knight was great,

For in his rear we find;

To cover, if he should retreat,

Were but A FEW inclin'd.

While Paine (the foe of kings) appears

Majestic on the plain;

The shout of ALL THE WORLD he hears,

And sees them in his train!

With courage did the Knight advance,

Discerning not his foe;

He challeng'd all the Knights of France,

And aim'd the dreadful blow!

[Page]

He gave them warning to retreat,

And wonder'd at their stay;

He little thought so soon to meet

Obstruction in his way!

A thousand paces back he ran,

At sight of warlike PAINE;

And soon were seen THE RIGHTS OF MAN,

Triumphant on the plain!

Base-born plebeian, said the Knight;

As he retir'd with speed;

It is not lawful we should fight,

With men of vulgar breed—

So saying, and all out of breath,

Quick out of sight he steals;

And thought each moment cruel death

Would seize his heavy heels.

These tidings came to George our king,

In Windsor where he lay—

What! what! what news, news! do you bring?

Has Edmund lost the day?

O heavy, heavy, news, he said!

England can witness be,

There's none can give a Monarch aid,

Of such account as he.

[Page]

The Courts in black may all be hung,

If they pursue the fight;

Our passing bell will soon be rung,

If men obtain their right.

The victory was soon proclaim'd,

And eke the Monarch's dread;

Forbidding books all left unnam'd:

Even to be sold or read.

At which the Presses aiming well,

Full charg'd, they all let fly;

Enough was found the books to sell,

Enough the books to buy.

And now the people all rejoice,

Such tidings heard they never;

They cry aloud with chearful voice,

THE RIGHTS OF MAN FOREVER!!!

[Page]

SONG. PAINE's WELCOME TO GREAT-BRITAIN.

Tune, "He comes, he comes."

HE comes—the GREAT REFORMER comes,

Cease, cease your trumpets, cease, cease your drums;

Those warlike sounds offend the ear,

PEACE and FRIENDSHIP now appear,

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome,

Welcome, thou Reformer here.

Prepare, prepare, your songs prepare,

Freedom cheers the brow of care;

The joyful tidings, spread around,

Monarchs tremble at the sound!

Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,

RIGHTS OF MAN, AND PAINE RESOUND.

[Page]

SONG.

Tune, "Highland Laddie."

PROUD Monarchs rais'd to wear a crown,

Forget the power by which they hold it;

They tread the passive subject down,

And thirst for vengeance when they'er told it.

CHORUS.

But, no more with blind submission—

We'll read them o'er a new commission;

The People's voice

Shall be their choice,

And tread beneath their feet—oppression.

And men forget that kings of old,

Depending on their free election,

Durst at their peril be so bold,

To rule but as they had direction.

But, no more, &c,

Or, if the king a SOT betrays,

Or, if humane his disposition;

Some minister assumes and sways,

And robs to feed his own ambition.

But, no more, &c.

[Page]

Thus kings and ministers succeed,

In either still the tyrant reigning;

They suck the poor, and as they feed,

Forbid the sufferer's conplaining.

CHORUS.

But, no more with blind submission;

We'll read them o'er a new commission—

The people's voice

Shall be their choice,

And tread beneath their feet—oppression.

SONG. WHITEHALL ALARMED! AND A COUNCIL CALLED!!!

Tune "Tune let us prepare," &c.

COME let us prepare,

We statesmen that are

Assembl'd on this dread occasion;

Let the engines of state,

Before 'tis too late,

Repel the surrounding invasion

[Page]

While people were fools,

We made them our tools,

Our VIRTUE was never suspected;

But now they arise,

And open their eyes!

And all our designs are detected.

'Tis not the mere crew,

We have to subdue,

Nor armies nor fleets can assist us:

'Tis REASON alone,

Besieges the throne,

And REASON is strong to resist us.

Nor can we by force,

Now alter the course,

INQUIRY and REASON are taking:

By land and at sea,

They cry, TO BE FREE!

The POWERS of the world are shaking.

How proudly in France,

Doth Reason advance,

All nations behold it with wonder:

The state and the church

Are left in the LURCH,

And the partnership broken asunder.

[Page]

Then while we deplore

The traffic no more!

The priests and their shops all forsaken,

Lest our holy ware,

A like fate should share,

Let speedy precautions be taken.

The boroughs in vain

Endeavour'd to gain,

E'en thanks to the king for his kindness,

The people too wise,

Saw through the disguise,

And call'd it Corruption and Blindness.

No thanks could be due,

The people well knew,

To be told they are HAPPY, if not so;

For quickly they found,

In CHAINS they were bound,

And also could see how they got so.

Then what now remains,

To lock them in chains,

To lead them on tamely in fetters,

How great is the loss!

Its almost a toss

Whether they'll submit to their betters.

[Page]

To darken the mind,

Let the Press be consin'd,

A LAW against reading and speaking:

Such bondage might pass

Among the low class,

And let it be call'd their own seeking.

And next to secure

Their LOYALTY sure,

Let THINKING be deemed high-treason;

For still after all,

Our system must fall,

Unless we are LORDS of their REASON.

SONG. FRANCE's LAMENTATION On the APPROACH of the DUKE of BRUNSWICK.

Tune, "Malbrouk."

1

BREAK out in lamentation,

O Frenchmen for your nation,

A dreadful devastation,

Is now upon the road;

Alas! we may deplore,

Our Freedom soon no more!

[Page] The mighty combination,

Begins the desolation,

A frightful declaration,

The Duke has sent abroad.

He'll from his presence spurn us,

Or unto Louis turn us,

Or else he'll cut and burn us,

If we refuse his sway;

O! how we quake with fear!

The Duke approaches near!!

He thunders and he flashes!

Our castles down he dashes!

And lays our towns in ashes!

As they obstruct his way.

Now on full march to Paris,

O how report does scare us!

They say he will not spare us,

Nor age, nor sex, nor size;

A foe so strong, so nigh,

We cannot fight nor fly,

Alas, we need not strive—O!

We never can survive—O!

They'll eat us up alive—O!

Or make us into pies.

Still nearer see him bearing!

His very lodgings airing,

The cooks are all preparing,

The splendid kingly feasts—

[Page] Lo now they seize the glass,

"Vive le Roi," they pass!

The queen no more deploring—

The court again restoring—

The people running roaring,

Are hunted down like beasts!

*⁎* Did not report almost say as much? did not tyrants desire it? and did not the ignorant dread it?

[PART SECOND.] DUKE BOBADIL's RETREAT.

WHAT meant our consternation?

'Twas all imagination,

'Twas for his recreation,

The Duke came into France;

He thought we were asleep,

And took a harmless peep;

But when he saw our forces,

Our cannon, foot and horses,

Our stores and wide resources,

He trembl'd to advance.

Thornville he surrounded,

But how was he confounded,

And his proud feelings wounded,

The WOODEN HORSE to see!

[Page] His mouth was full of hay,

And to the Duke did say,

"You proud ambitious sinner,

"You never shall come in here,

"Till I eat up my dinner;

"So take yourself away!"

But O! the manifesto,

Affords a pretty jest, O;

Just like the juggler's pesto,

It rais'd a short surprise;

Alas! duke Brobdignag!

Where is your empty bag,

Your military swaggers,

Your swords, and fires, and daggers?

Ye crew of silly beggers,

Go home and slaughter flies.

Now see the Duke retreating,

His pulse quick time in beating,

No thought he has of eating,

Or drinking, at Parie;

The sumptuous feast is done,

The court broke up and gone!

And Bobadil returning,

Chop-fall'n and in mourning,

With shame and anger burning,

Nor eat, nor sight could he!

[Page]

Alas! in deep dejection,

He takes a new direction,

His heels are his protection,

And eke the Berlin train

And all the EMIGRANTS,

And Princes, Cowards, and Cants,

Have chang'd the war to races,

With wry and ghastly faces,

Pursue the wild-goose chaces,

With hunger, shame, and pain.

Now France with freedom ringing,

And songs of triumph singing,

The tyrants noses wringing,

All in doleful plight;

The RIGHTS OF MAN and France!

And Babadil's dear dance!!

When he turn'd out his best toes,

And ceased his Manifestoes,

No longer to molest us,

He sav'd himself by flight.

SONG.

Tune, "Hearts of Oak."

YE Britons no longer inactive remain,

Attend to the dictates of Reason and Paine;

'Tis to Freedom they call you, no longer delay,

Your rights are at stake—and are lost if you stay.

[Page]

CHORUS.

Hark! the trumpet of Fame bids you rouse & oppose,

The tyrants uniting

While Frenchmen are fighting,

And Freedom inviting—to conquer your foes.

Shall men as the heads of the nation preside,

Who cannot the test of inquiry abide?

Let them boast of their virtues and plead for the state,

So felons remonstrate, in view of their fate.

Hark, the trumpet of Fame, &c.

They flatter, and fawn, and their friendship express,

To blind, while they plunder, and roll in excess;

And a pension bestow, for the Praises of those.

Who would, if not brib'd, their corruptions expose.

Hark, the trumpet of Fame, &c.

While Apostates and Tyrants so boldly agree,

Let the powers of our reason enlighten'd and free,

Unappall'd at their frowns—with the object in view,

Thro' all its dark turnings, oppression pursue.

CHORUS.

Hark, the trumpet of Fame bids you rouse and oppose,

The tyrants uniting,

While Frenchmen are fighting,

And Freedom inviting—to conquer your foes.

[Page]

SONG. THE RIGHTS OF MAN.

BY HIS LORDSHIP.

THE Rights of Man I will maintain,

Upon the old foundation;

And those who venture to complain,

Shall hear a proclamation.

CHORUS.

For kings and lords, the Rights of Man,

Were first of all intended;

And since the reign of kings began,

The Rights of Man are ended.

Now take me right, as we proceed,

'Tis needful I should mention,

I am a son of noble breed,

And hold a little pension.

For kings and lords, &c.

Kings have a right divine to be

Your Lords, and Gods and masters;

And commons, peers, and priests agree,

To laugh at your disasters.

For kings and lords, &c.

[Page]

You have a right to all the toil,

And while it ne'er relaxes,

We eat the dainties of the soil,

And feed you well with taxes.

For kings and lords, &c.

You have a right to chain your tongue,

When sore you feel oppression;

Nor check nor call our measures wrong,

So wide is our commission.

For kings and lords, &c.

You have a right to live and breathe,

And answer your creation;

But mark—your fathers did bequeath,

To us—to rule the nation.

For kings and lords, &c.

You have a right to wear your rags,

And pay your debts in limbo,

While we, like Judas, keep your bags,

And boldly after him go.

For kings and lords, &c.

In fine, the nation is our own;

And let me further tell you,

The powerful right is in the throne,

By which we buy and sell you.

[Page]

For kings and lords, the Rights of Man,

Were first of all intended;

And since the reign of kings began,

The Rights of Man are ended.

SONG. WHA DOES THIS BONNET FIT?

Tune, "Jolly Miller."

A WICKED Scotchman now resides,

Just by the treasury;

He steals and cheats from morn to night,

No chief more glad than he.

CHORUS.

This is the burthen of his song,

Where-ever he may be;

I care for nobody right or wrong,

And nobody cares for me,

His fingers had the dreadful itch,

Which made him cross the Tweed,

To find a cure among the rich,

And having made great speed,

This is the burthen, &c.

[Page]

His conscience made of temper'd steel,

His face of solid brass;

Remorse nor shame he ne'er did feel,

Since he in office was.

This is the burthen, &c.

Yet one sad thought his bosom heaves,

And yields a smarting pain,

That, should the state be purg'd from Thieves,

He loses all again!

CHORUS.

Still this the burthen of his song,

Where-ever he may be;

I care for nobody, right or wrong,

And nobody cares for me.

THE INQUIRER AND HIS ECHO. A DIALOGUE.

SAY Echo, how shall we diffuse the light,

And teach unthinking men to claim their right?

Echo—Write.

[Page]

But if we should their enemies expose,

Will not a Proclamation soon oppose?

Echo—OPPOSE.

Perhaps, they would remove the Nation's woe,

If they our numerous grievances did know.

Echo—No.

Why do they then, profess to be our friends,

The bulwark which our LIBERTY defends?

Echo—FIENDS.

They say we may with confidence rely

On them, a never-failing firm ally.

Echo—A LIE.

What are their motives? Echo, then say plain,

So eager each appears a seat to gain.

Echo—GAIN.

Then were electors blind not to refuse?

Or were they brib'd, the people's curse to choose?

Echo—JEWS!

But why does not the monarch intercede

Against such men—to ruin us agreed?

Echo—GREED!

Where then his virtuous ministry, I wonder?

What say the princes to the nation's blunder?

Echo—PLUNDER!

[Page]

And where the gownsman then, with holy faces,

Can they not act by virtue of their places?

Echo—PLACES!

Alas! sad Echo, I shall cease to name,

Such overgrown corruption you proclaim.

Echo—CLAIM!

But claim from whom, and what shall we regain?

The nation's doom'd to tyranny and pain.

Echo—PAINE!!

What, Echo, do you recommend indeed,

A man of such seditious, wicked deed?

Echo—READ!

But who made Truth a Libel? or the leaves

Condemn, which but assert, that Thieves are Thieves?

Echo—THIEVES!

To what then must the people have recourse,

To gain reform, what arguments enforce?

Echo—FORCE.

Echo, farewell—and let all tyrants know it,

A change is near, and they must undergo it.

Echo—GO IT!!

[Page]

SONG. ADAPTED TO THE Sentiments of a RED-HOT ARISTOCRAT.

Tune, "God save the king."

LONG live our g-r-a-c-i-o-u-s king,

To him our treasure bring,

Gen'rous and free!

His feelings are so tough,

You ne'er can give enough;

Why keep ye back the stuff?

Rebels ye be.

See, on the guineas fair,

His gracious picture there,

Which, as you view,

Worship—and let them be

Sent to his treasury;

Send them to him, that he

May worship too!

You have a house and bed,

And you are cloath'd and fed,

Temp'rate and bare;

Still let it be your aim,

Pride and excess to tame,

For your kind master's claim,

All you can spare.

[Page]

Great George our king we own,

Each on his marrow-bone.

Englishmen true:

He shall ride over us!

Happy and glorious,

Freedom! victorious

Frenchmen ne'er knew.

Cheer up each mournful face,

See what a hopeful race,

Now all alive!

O how it swells the song!

Princes so young and strong,

Might draw a dray along,

Ready to drive.

Long live our n-o-b-l-e king,

To him our guineas bring,

Gen'rous and free!

Let it our hearts elate,

Still to support the great—

Proud of our low estate

Still let us be!

[Page]

SONG. Kings a great BLESSING to the nation.

SOON as a monarch mounts the throne,

His usefulness is clearly known,

As thousand can declare;

The kingly trade he undertakes,

And many little monarch makes,

The government to share.

And now in all the toils of state,

He THINKS and LABOURS—early—late;

And with an anxious mind,

He passes on from care to care,

The people's burthens bear,

Upon his gracious mind!

He leaves the dissipated crew,

Routs, feasts, and sporting to pursue—

The follies of the day:

Far greater thought his heart engage,

Than concerts—hunting—or the stage;

As wise Duguet doth say.

The law he next surveys, and sees

That acts, and deeds, and suits and fees,

May not the poor oppress;

Hence Judges so upright we see,

And Juries honest, wise and free;

Their purest thoughts express.

[Page]

Anon the Church his care demands,

The holy troop with gowns and bands,

He suffers none for hire!

To feed and guide the poor and blind,

To raise and cultivate the mind,

Of each he doth require.

Thus kings are rais'd to BLESS the land—

The Church and State go hand in hand,

The blessing to ensure;

Upon our backs the JUNTO rides;

So soft they sit upon our hides,

'Tis pleasant to endure!

SONG.

Tune, "Dusky Night."

NO longer lost in shades of night,

Where late in chains we lay;

The Sun arises, and his light

Dispels our gloom away.

CHORUS.

And demanding Freedom all,

While kings combine,

We boldly join,

Nor cease till tyrants fall.

[Page]

No longer blind, and proud to lye

In slavery profound;

But for redress aloud we cry!

And tyrants hear the sound.

Demanding Freedom all, &c.

The pomp of courts no more engage;

The magic spell is broke,

We hail the bright reforming age!

And cast away the yoke.

Demanding Freedom all, &c.

Our substance and our blood no more,

So tamely shall we yield;

Nor quit like slaves our native shore,

To deck the MONSTER'S field.

But demanding Freedom all, &c.

The rotten lumber of the land,

The courtly pension'd train;

Shall hear their sentence and disband,

As we our rights regain.

Thus demanding Freedom all, &c.

The mitred villain as he rolls,

In luxury and lust,

He blinds and robs the silly souls,

Committed to his trust.

But demanding Freedom all, &c.

[Page]

Amus'd no more with empty lies,

Of BLISS we never know;

The traitors drop the state disguise,

And closely we pursue.

CHORUS.

Demanding Freedom all!

While kings combine,

We boldly join,

Nor cease till tyrants fall.

SONG. TO THE LONDON CORRESPONDING SOCIETY.

Tune, "See your Country righted."

ASSEMBLED in our Country's Cause,

Hail the happy season!

We fear no frowns—nor court applause,

Pursuing truth and reason.

CHORUS.

Boldly all with heart and hand,

Meet we here united,

By each other firmly stand,

To see our Country righted.

[Page]

Long beneath the rod we lay,

Plunder'd and contented;

But no more shall tyrants sway,

Our wrongs shall be resented.

Boldly with heart, &c.

See the rich and sumptuous board!

Harpies all surrounding,

Seize our wealth to swell the hoard,

In luxury abounding.

Boldly all with heart, &c.

Shall we tamely yet resign,

Our purse to these Collectors?

And hail them with a RIGHT DIVINE!

Away with such protectors.

Boldly all with heart, &c.

Fearless of their lawless pow'r,

Empty sons of thunder;

Let them bluster out their hour,

They shall soon knock under.

Boldly all with heart, &c.

Brave the dangers that surround,

Bid them all defiance;

Truth eternal is our ground,

THE PEOPLE our alliance.

Boldly then with heart, &c.

[Page]

See our numbers how they grow!

Crowding and dividing *;

Eager all their rights to know,

Reason still presiding.

Boldly all with heart, &c.

Let us then as friends agree;

Kings and priests dissemble,

War and strife they love to see,

Union makes them tremble.

CHORUS.

Boldly all with heart and hand,

Meet we here united,

By each other firmly stand,

To see our Country righted.

[Page]

SONG.

Tune, "Mulberry Tree."

THE great Reformation, approaching, we hail!

'Gainst statesmen and priests truth and reason prevail,

Triumphant the planets of Liberty, see!

Preparing the soil of the globe for the tree.

CHORUS.

All shall yield to Freedom's fair tree.

Bend to thee

Blest Liberty!

Heroes are they, now planting thee,

And all their great names immortal shall be!

Away with the splendour and pomp of a court,

Our toil shall no longer the baubles support,

No longer the slaves of a statesman or king,

Inspir'd by the muses of Freedom we sing.

All shall yield, &c.

Ye Britons, for courage in battle renown'd,

For freedom and riches—Alas, empty sound!

Triumphant ye came from the field and the main,

To be conquer'd and plunder'd by statesmen again.

Then repair to, &c.

[Page]

Ye trees of corruption in courts ye abound,

The fruits ye produce are a curse to the ground,

In the soil where ye flourish no others can grow,

But now see the axe at your roots aims the blow.

All shall yield, &c.

May Heav'n guard the people, and armies of France,

And crush all their foes where-ever they advance;

And end to the councils of traitors combin'd,

The downfall of tyrants—and peace to mankind!

All shall yield, &c.

How great in the ages to come and how dear,

Your names, and your conquests great heroes will appear!

With rapture they'll read and your actions review,

While under the shade of the tree rais'd by you!

CHORUS.

All shall yield to Freedom's fair tree,

Bend to thee

Blest Liberty!

Heroes are they, now planting thee,

And all their great names immortal shall be!

[Page]

SONG. The MARSEILLES MARCH.

SUNG BY THE MARSEILLOIS GOING TO BATTLE, BY GENERAL KELLERMAN'S ARMY, AND AT THE DIFFERENT THEATRES IN PARIS.

YE sons of France, awake to glory,

Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise!

Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary,

Behold their tears and hear their cries!

Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding,

With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,

Affright and desolate the land,

While Peace and Liberty lie bleeding!

CHORUS.

To arms, to arms, ye brave!

Th' avenging sword unsheath,

March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd

On victory or death!

Now, now the dang'rous storm is rolling,

Which treach'rous kings, confederate, raise;

The dogs of war let loose are howling,

And lo! our fields and cities blaze;

[Page]

And shall we basely view the ruin,

While lawless force, with guilty stride,

Spreads desolation far and wide,

With crimes and blood his hands embruing?

To arms, ye brave, &c.

With luxury and pride surrounded,

The vile insatiate despots dare,

Their thirst of power and gold unbounded,

To mete and vend the light and air;

Like beasts of burden would they load us,

Like gods, would bid their slaves adore;

But man is man—and who is more?

—Then shall they longer lash and goad us?

To arms, ye brave, &c.

O Liberty! can man resign thee,

Once having felt thy gen'rous flame?

Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee,

Or whips thy noble spirit tame?

Too long the world has wept, bewailing

That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield;

But freedom is our sword and shield,

And all their arts are unavailing.

CHORUS.

To arms, to arms, ye brave!

Th' avenging sword unsheath,

March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd

On victory or death!

[Page]

SONG. SUNG BY MR. DIGNUM AT THE Anniversary of the Revolution of 1688. Held at the London Tavern, Nov. 1792.

Tune, "The tear that bedews sensibility's shrine."

UNFOLD Father Time, thy long records unfold,

Of noble atchievements, accomplish'd of old;

When men by the standard of Liberty led,

Undauntedly conquer'd, or chearfully bled:

But now 'midst the triumphs these moments reveal,

Their glories all fade, and their lustre turns pale:

While France rises up, and proclaims the decree,

That tears off their chains, and bids millions be free.

As spring to the fields, or as due to the flowers,

To the earth pearch'd with heat, as the soft dropping showers,

As health to the wretch that lies languid and wan,

Or rest to the weary—is Freedom to man!

Where Freedom the light of her countenance gives,

There only he triumphs, there only he lives;

Then seize the glad moment, and hail the decree,

That tears off their chains, and bids millions be free,

[Page]

Too long had oppression and terror entwin'd,

Those tyrant-form'd chains that enslav'd the free mind;

While dark superstition and nature at strife,

For ages had lock'd up the fountain of life:

But the daemon is fled, the delusion is past,

And reason and virtue have triumph'd at last;

Then seize the glad moment, and hail the decree,

That tears off their chains and bids millions be free.

France, we share in the rapture thy bosom that fills,

While the Genius of Liberty bounds o'er thine hills;

Redundant henceforth may thy purple juice flow,

Prouder wave thy green woods, and thine olive trees grow!

While the hand of philosophy long shall entwine,

Blest emblem, the laurel, the myrtle and vine;

And heav'n thro' all ages confirms the decree,

That tears off their chains and bids millions be free.

SONG. SUNG AT THE Anniversary of the Revolution of 1688. Held at the London Tavern, Novemver 5, 1792.

SEE! bright Liberty descending,

O'er the verdant hills and plains;

And bold GALLIA nobly sending

Freedom to the slaves in chains.

[Page]

See! fell tyranny defeated,

By each bold and patriot band;

May their triumphs be repeated,

O'er oppression's iron hand.

O! may we partake the rapture,

Which triumphant patriots feel;

May they ev'ry tyrant capture,

Who attacks the common weal.

May the cause which they'er protecting

Spread through ev'ry state and clime;

That men on their rights reflecting,

Revolutions well may time.

Let not men of any nation,

By false arguments deceiv'd,

Startle at a reformation,

When their country is aggriev'd.

But as human institutions,

Are by nature prone to change:

Let succeeding revolutions,

Wise and equal laws arrange.

Thus secure shall future ages,

Who may celebrate this day;

Say, "No more wild-discord rages,

"TRUTH and REASON bear the sway."

[Page]

SONG. THE PORTERS' GOSSIP, OR AN IRISH DEFENCE OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT.

BY J. WALKER.

RECITATIVE.

AT alehouse door, where weary porters stop

To pitch their loads and take a chearing drop,

Jenking and Patrick once together met;

Their bus'ness was the same—to rest and wet;

Beer sharpen'd wit, and glibly run their gab;

What follows is a sketch of their confab.

AIR BY JENKINS.

Cot pless hur, what puftle and rout,

Come tell hur, coot frient, if you can,

What all that creat pook is apout,

Which hur thinks they call Paine's Rights of Man?

They tell hur such wonderful things,

A Welchman's as goot as a LORT;

There's no more occasion for kings

Than hur erantmoter hat for a swort.

[Page]

And Princes, tukes, Intans and placks,

Are the same plud and pody as we;

The poor shall not pay so much tax,

But that all hafe a right to be free.

RECITATIVE.

Now Paddy had perus'd the Rignts of Man.

So hitch'd his breeches up, and thus began:

AIR BY PADDY.

Blood an'ouns, Master Jenkin—I'm now after thinking,

You'er not quite the thing in your nob,

Why Paine's bodderation—drives mad half the nation;

He'll one day repent his wild gob.

Can you call that mad patter of his, Common Sense,

Where he says we're the same flesh and blood as a prince?

Arra, who can believe such queer nonsense as this?

No, Jenkin, its cruel—but hear me my jewel.

I'll engage I'll tell what the rights of an Englishman is.

But this ne'er enter'd your nob.

If it had, you wou'd never complain;

Whisht, whisht, hububoo, hold your gob,

Whisht, whisht hububoo, fililililoo,

To be sure, a big rogue is Tom Paine.

How you know my dear cr'ature, a king has by nature

A head nicely fitted to rule;

And his children forever—must be mighty clever,

For how should a king get a fool?

[Page]

Then there's lords, and there's dukes, and there's earls, and what not,

'Caze they're rich, they're as wise as the devil knows, what,

Arra, Jenkin, you know they can't live on the air,

Sowe tip them a pension—the sum's not worth mention,

Poor cr'atures, for what is 4, 5, or 6000 a-year?

But this enter'd, &c.

A million a-year—for a monarch, my dear,

Is not quite three thousand a-day;

What he has to do, sir—is nothing—to you, sir;

Don't bodder your noddle, then, pray.

For a minister's whim, 'tis an Englishman's right

To be press'd from his wife and his children—to fight,

While placemen are lolling at ease on the sod,

While soldiers are tramping—in dangers encamping,

Devil help'em, sure sixpence a-day is enough for a swad.

But this never enter'd. &c.

You may think it alarming—may soul, there's no harm in

A game at gunpowder and lead;

If your king pick the quarrel—why you wear the laurel,

That is, if you bring back your head!

You know, my dear cr'ature, your brother's your FOE,

And his throat you must cut, if your king tells you so,

What though he ne'er gave you a word of offence,

He goes to perdition—for statesmen's ambition;

What matter? yet Paine won't allow this to be—Common Sense.

But this never enter'd, &c.

[Page]

And the great bodderation—he makes on taxation,

'Tis all, my dear, Peter-my-knife:

For taxing the malt—houses, leather, and salt,

Sure you know are all luxuries of life;

And the tax upon coals, could not Richmond support,

Did we not make it up with some places at court.

Death an'ouns, we will starve to maintain their expence,

And live, my dear cr'atures—on herrings and praties—

By my soul tho' you'll never bear this, while we have common sense.

That's the book that's been cramming your nob;

You'll never hear paddy complain;

Whisht, whisht, hububoo, hold your gob,

Whisht, whisht, bububoo, fililililoo,

To be sure a big rogue is Tom Paine.

SONG.

Tune, "The Topsails shiver in the Wind."

IN times of yore, when heroes fought,

And cities stream'd with blood,

The bards, to better strains untaught,

Sang of the crimson flood.

Far nobler themes my muse invite,

Than e'er inspir'd these sons of night.

[Page]

Freedom, who long had dormant lain,

While despots bore the sway,

Now deigns to visit man again,

Reveal'd thro' Truth's bright ray;

Hence then, ye poets, join to praise

Freedom in your immortal lays.

And First, that brave unrivall'd chief,

Who did her cause maintain,

Whose works evinc'd in every leaf,

Their godlike author PAINE.

While gratitude inspires your song,

To him your warmest thanks belong.

A bolder champion to engage

Falshood had never found;

Resplendent Truth illum'd each page,

And flash'd conviction round.

Soon as this mighty work began,

All nature echo'd, " [...]ghts of Man!"

America had caught the flame,

And sco [...]d submission base;

To laws unjust, no longer tame,

She bow'd her manly race;

But independence long had rear'd

And neither slaves nor monarchs fear'd.

[Page]

To Gallia's shore the influence spread,

Her num'rous sons arose,

By liberty and reason led,

They found and crush'd their foes.

High sounding titles down, they cry,

And make their lordly owners fly.

Surrounding kings unite to go

Against this favour'd place;

For monarchy now felt a blow,

Which shook her firmest base.

Armies combine France to attack,

But GOD and nature drove them back.

Fain would the muse now take her flight,

And sing Britannia free;

That sacred isle, where once so bright,

Reign'd heav'n-born LIBERTY.

But ah! how fall'n! yet soon she'll rise,

And proudly claim her native skies.

[Page]

COMPARISON.

KIND Heav'n, we read, in days of yore,

Had mercy on the town of Zoar,

To save one Righteous man;

To prop one sceptred fool in France,

Bravado Brunswick wields his lance;

He swears by all the powers of hell,

To slay and plunder—dire to tell!

A nation—if he can.

But, lo! the sons of freedom rose,

And pull'd the bully by the nose—

He turn'd about and ran!

STANZAS TO THE CITIZEN GENERAL DUMOURIER.

HERALD of Freedom to the fertile plains,

For ages spoil'd by Austria's tyrant sway,

Amidst deliver'd Belgia's choral strains,

Accept the tribute of a Briton's lay;

'Till some rapt poet build thy lofty rhime,

That bears thy well-earn'd glory down the tide of time.

[Page]

Champion of France, yet not to France confin'd,

Awaking Europe hails her patriot son,

'Tis thine to combat for oppress'd mankind,

And shake in every clime, a lawless throne.

From Gallia's shore shall Freedom's triumph sound,

To the new world the frantic Grecian never found.

In vain ambition fir'd his eager youth,

For slaughter'd nations prov'd no birth divine,

Tho' flattery mock'd the solem style of truth,

And genius brought her gifts to fortune's shrine,

Lur'd by the glare she grac'd a worthless name,

And deck'd a prosp'rous robber with the wreaths of fame.

So oft emblazon'd in the classic page,

Has Latian valor gain'd the Muse's praise,

Yet calmly view'd in time's maturer age,

Rome's patriot virtue shines with feeble rays;

Virtue that never knew for man to glow;

But dragg'd in haughty triumph e'en a supliant foe.

Not abject thus did Belgia's sons appear,

To swell the triumphs the glad people throng,

Of freedom's equal laws with transport hear,

And shout to fav'ring heav'n one grateful song.

In that blest hour what joys 'twere thine to know.

Reason's pure joys, that plunder'd worlds could ne'er bestow.

[Page]

SONNET To BRITAIN, 1766.

RENOWN'D Britannia! lov'd parental land!

Regard thy Welfare with a watchful eye,

Whene'er the wait of want's afflicting hand,

Wakes in thy vales the poor's persuasive cry.

When wealth enormous sets the oppressor high,

Then bribes thy ductile senators command,

And slaves in office freeman's rights withstand,

Then NOURN! for then thy fate approaches nigh!

Not for perfidious Gaul, or haughty Spain,

Nor all the neighbouring nations of the main;

Tho' leagu'd in war, tremendous round the shore—

But from THYSELF, thy ruin must proceed:

Nor boast thy power; for know it is decreed,

Thy Freedom lost, thy power shall be no more.

ODE to the DRUM.

I HATE that drum's discordant sound,

Parading round, and round, and round;

To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,

And lures from cities and from fields.

[Page] To fell their liberty for chains

Of tawdry lace, and glitt'ring arms,

And when ambition's voice commands,

To march and fight, and fall in foreign lands.

I hate that drum's discordant sound,

Parading round, and round, and round,

To me it talks of ravag'd plains,

And burning towns and ruin'd swains,

And mangled limbs and dying groans,

And widow's tears, and ophan's moans,

And all that misery's hand bestows,

To swell the catalogue of human woes.

* TO MANKIND. AN ODE.

IS there, or do the schoolmen dream?

Is there on earth a power supreme,

The delegate of heav'n?

To whom an uncontroul'd command,

In evey realm, o'er sea and land,

By special grace is giv'n?

[Page]

Then say what signs this GOD proclaim?

Dwells he amidst the diamond's flame,

A throne his hallow'd shrine?

Alas! the pomp, the arm'd array,

Want, Fear, and Impotence betray,

Strange proofs of power divine!!!

If service due from human kind,

To men in slothful ease inclin'd,

Can form a sovereign's claim,

Hail Monarchs! ye whom heav'n ordains,

Our toils unshar'd—to share our gains,

Ye Ideots, blind and lame!

Superior virtue, wisdom, might

Create and mark the rulers right—

So Reason must conclude—

Then thine it is, to whom belong,

The wise, the virtuous and the strong,

Thrice * Sacred Multitude!!

In thee, vast ALL! are these contain'd,

For these are those thy parts ordain'd,

So nature's systems roll:

The sceptre's thine, if such there be,

If none there is—then thou art free,

Great Monarch! Mighty Whole!

[Page]

Let the proud tyrant rest his cause,

On faith, prescription, force, or laws,

An host's or senate's voice;

His voice affirms thy stronger due,

Who for the many made the few,

And gave the species choice,

Unsanctify'd by thy command,

Unknown by thee, the sceptre'd hand,

The trembling slave may bind;

But loose from nature's moral ties,

The oath by force impos'd, belies

The unassenting mind.

Thy WILL's thy rule, thy good its end,

You punish only to defend

What parent nature gave;

And he who dare her gifts invade,

By nature's oldest law is made,

Thy victim or thy slave.

Thus Reason founds the just decree,

On universal liberty—

Not private rights resign'd;

Through various nature's wide extent,

No PRIVATE BEINGS e'er were meant,

To hurt the GEN'RAL kind.

[Page]

Avails it thee, if one devours,

Or lesser spoilers share his pow'rs,

While both thy claims oppose?

Monsters who wore thy sully'd crown,

Tyrants * who pull'd those monsters down,

Alike to thee were foes!

Far other shone fair Freedom's band,

Far other was th'immortal stand,

When Hamden fought for thee;

They snatch'd from Rapine's gripe thy spoils,

The fruit and prize of glorious toils,

Of arts and industry.

Thy foes, a frontless band, invade;

Thy friends afford a timid aid,

And yield up half thy right

Ev'n LOCKE beams forth a mingled ray,

Afraid to pour the flood of day,

On man's too feeble sight.

[Page]

O! shall the bought, and buying tribe,

The slaves who take and deal the bribe,

A people's claims enjoy!

So Indian murd'rers hope to gain,

The pow'rs and virtues of the slain,

Of wretches they destroy.

"Avert it Heav'n! you love the brave,

"You hate the treach'rous willing slave,

"The self-devoted head;

"Nor shall an hireling's voice convey,

"That sacred prize to lawless sway,

"For which a nation bled."

SONG. FOR THE ANNIVERSARY of the REVOLUTION.

BY G. DYER.

Tune, "Rule Britannia."

WHEN beating tempests waste the plains,

And lightnings cleave the angry sky,

Sorrow invades the anxious swains,

And trembling nymphs to shelter fly.

[Page]

CHORUS.

But should the sun, the sun illume the skies,

They catch his beams with grateful eyes.

When bigot zeal a nation rends,

And purple tyrants fill the throne,

Beneath their yoke meek virtue bends,

And modest truth is heard to groan;

But should the star, the star of Freedom rise,

Calm'd are their fears, and hush'd their sighs.

When generous patriots, long oppress'd,

Decree to curb a monarch's pride;

And Freedom warms a nation's breast,

Who shall the general ardour chide?

What can withstand, withstand the great decree,

When a brave nation will be free?

Thus Greece repell'd her num'rous foes,

Thus Britain curb'd a Stuart's race,

Thus Gallia's sons to glory rose,

Heralds of Peace to future days;

And thus shall all, shall all the nations rise,

And shout their triumphs to the skies.

The wars of monarchs thus decided,

Commerce shall bless each smiling land;

And man from man no more divided,

In peace shall live a friendly band.

[Page] Tyrants shall fall, no more, no more to rise,

Like glaring meteors of the skies.

Then blooming youths, and sages hoary,

Shall sing the deeds of ancient days;

And tender virgins learn the story,

And children lisp their grandsires praise.

Earth will be gay, be gay, and bright the skies,

When Freedom's golden star shall rise!

SONG. CA IRA.

'TIS dangerous to eat

'Tis dangerous to meet,

'Tis dangerous to drink,

'Tis dangerous to think.

Ca ira, ça ira, ça ira.

'Tis dangerous to walk,

'Tis dangerous to talk,

'Tis dangerous to write,

'Tis dangerous to fight.

Ca ira, ça ira, ça ira.

[Page]

'Tis dangerous to feed,

'Tis dangerous to read,

'Tis dangerous to give,

'Tis dangerous to live.

Ca ira, ça ira, ça ira.

'Tis dangerous to view,

'Tis dangerous to sue,

'Tis dangerous to know,

'Tis dangerous to go.

Ca ira, ça ira, ça ira.

*SONG.

Tune, "Hearts of Oak."

COME chear up, my countrymen, ne'er be dismay'd,

For Freedom her banners once more has display'd,

Be staunch for your Rights—Hark 'tis Liberty's call;

For Freedom, dear Freedom, stand up one and all!

CHORUS.

With heart and with hand,

Swear firmly to stand;

Till Oppression is driven quite out of the land.

[Page]

To redress all our wrongs, let Man's Rights be apply'd;

Truth and justice they show, and by these we'll abide.

Luxurious pomp, which brings taxes and woes,

No more we'll maintain with the sweat of our brows.

But with heart, &c.

The bold Rights of Man struck such terror and fear,

That stern Proclamations in all parts appear;

But deter us they can't—for as Friends we'll agree

The state to reform—and we'll die or be free.

Then with heart, &c.

So much tribute we pay, that we scarcely can live;

For the light of the sun, what a rent do we give!

To be told "We are happy!"—'tis mere Gasconade;

For we're burden'd like slaves, and like packhorses made.

But with heart, &c.

Then to Freedom press forward like men who are wise,

And accompany France, out of bondage to rise,

And America's world: Let us with them agree,

And join the grand concert—To die or be free.

Then with heart, &c.

To conclude, Here's success to honest TOM PAINE;

May he live to enjoy what he well does explain.

The just RIGHTS OF MAN, may we never forget;

For they'll save Britain's friends from the bondage of Pitt.

[Page]

CHORUS.

With heart and with hand,

Swear firmly to stand,

Till Oppression is driven quite out of the land.

THE ORIGIN OF KINGS. A FRAGMENT.

—WHEN Time was young,

And Earth was clad in Nature's rudest garb,

Dark tangled forests, desarts vast and drear,

Wild heaths, and reedy lakes, and rushy fens;

When fresh and vig'rous from th' Eternal hand,

Man trode the rough domain; himself as rough;

The bus'ness of bis life to propagate,

To draw nutrition, and to keep at bay

Instinct's ferocious swarms; then the wide world

Was but a huge estate, Heav'n the prime Lord,

And all mankind his equal tenantry.

No power was known, save that which Nature owns—

Paternal sway—Clad in the spoils of brutes,

And unrestrain'd as is the mountain's blast,

Dauntless and firm the sturdy savage roam'd,

His family a state, himself a chief.

Water, wild fruits and animal repasts,

[Page] Compos'd his worldly good; with these in view,

On the rough margin of some stream or lake,

Begirt with matted brakes and forests tall,

He rear'd, with unskill'd hand, his wattled shed.

Around him nimble as the bounding roe,

His naked offspring play'd. Time brought desires,

And from desires, which to repress, was sin,

Full many a progeny soon frolick'd round—

Affection filial, fondness for the seat

Of all their youthful gambols, and the dread

Of climes less bounteous, fix'd him to the soil.

The patriot fire now glimmer'd; smaller tribes,

Lur'd by the hopes of plenty, or induc'd

By love of social intercourse, pour'd in;

And by their ardent youth were soon made one.

Thus congregated man, and thus wild wastes,

The haunts of shaggy tribes, were sprinkled o'er

With many a human dwelling. Settled now,

Man's wond'rous faculties began to shoot.

For heav'n who plac'd him midst this warring scene,

Unarm'd and void of cov'ring, gave him pow'rs

Superior far to all that brutes possess;

Gave him by his own efforts to improve:

Hence came the jav'lin, and the furry garb,

And all that polish'd regions now enjoy.

Each sire was still the sov'reign of his shed,

And all internal bick'rings might compose.

But when contention 'mongst these very sires,

Uncheck'd by pow'r superior, rear'd his head,

All then was wild confusion. Hence 'twas found,

[Page] That man i'th' social state lack'd more controul,

Than could from patriarchal rule proceed.

But who might say what this controul should be?

At this grand, yet simple point t' adjust,

'Neath some huge tree, by general consent,

(Girt with dearest relatives, who stood

In mute amaze) the village Fathers met;

And with bold action metaphoric speech,

And dauntless mien, pour'd forth their honest souls.

'Twas genuine Nature all. A few strong laws

The infant senate fabricated soon,

Which shew'd the sires, all emulous of good;

For each strong law, however rude, was fram'd

As laws should e'er be fram'd, like yon bright orb

To shed no PARTIAL influence. All were bound—

All by the ties which they themselves had made,

Were bound alike, and therefore all enjoy'd

Man's dearest, noblest blessing—LIBERTY.—

As ev'ry family its chief possess'd,

And as their various families might now

Be deem'd but one; at the same time, perchance,

To be their common Father, Guardian, Friend,

And to enforce their EQUAL laws, some sire,

For wisdom and manly prowess fam'd,

Was rais'd by free election 'bove the rest,

And cloth'd, whilst those who rais'd him should think mete,

With the fair robe of delegated power.

Such was the Origin of Kings. At first

The wise elective magistrate; but now,

Too oft, the weak hereditary scourge

[Page] Of half a groaning world. With slender wing,

Along the ever-rolling stream of Time,

Thus like a twittering swallow, have I swept,

Touching on nought save some protruding capes

Too obvious to be miss'd; the earth's rude face,

The natural state of man, his social days,

The senates, laws, and regal rule how form'd,

From these bold capes, to song but little known,

The philosophic eye will clearly ken

These simple truths, which the wide world would know;

That God made man, that man made laws and chiefs:

But that, nor God, nor man, ne'er form'd those rods,

Call'd ARBITRARY KINGS.—

HUMAN DEBASEMENT. A FRAGMENT.

—IN early days,

If kings were made by men, and that they were,

The light of Nature clearly shows,

How comes it then, that Earth is fill'd with Slaves?

How comes it then, that man, this reasoning thing,

This being with such faculties endow'd,

This being form'd to trace the great First Cause,

Through many a wond'rous path; how comes it then,

That he in ev'ry clime, should cringe, should crouch,

[Page] Should bend th' imploring eye, and trembling knee,

To mere self-rais'd Oppressors?—Heav'ns! to think

That not a tithe of all the sons of men

E'er kiss'd thy sacred cup, O Liberty!

To find where'er imagination roves,

Millions on millions prostrate in the dust,

Whilst o'er their necks, with proud contemptuous mien,

Kings, Emperors, Sultans, Sophies, what you will,

With all their pamper'd minious sorely press,

Grinding God's creatures to the very bone.

Yet man submits to all! he tamely licks

The foot uprais'd to trample on his right;

He shakes his chains, and in their horrid clank

Finds melody; else, why not throw 'em off?

Seven hundred millions of human kind

Are held in base subjection—and by whom?

Why, strange to tell, and what futurity,

As children at the tales of witch or sprite

Will bless themselves to hear, by a small troop

Of weak capricious despots, fiends accurs'd,

Who drench the earth with tides of human gore,

And call the havock, GLORY! Britons, yes!

Seven hundred millions of your fellow-men,

All form'd like you the blessing to enjoy,

Now drag the servile chain. Oh! fie upon't!

'Twere better far within the clay-cold cell

To waste away than be at such a price!

Poor whip-gall'd slaves. Oh! 'tis debasement all!

'Tis filthy cowardice, and shews that man

Merits too oft by his degenerate deeds

[Page] The yoke that bends him down. Power's limpid stream

Must have its source within a people's heart:

What flows not thence is turbid tyranny;

Rank are the despot weeds which now o'er-run

This' ample world, and choke each goodly growth;

But, that supine and loud vaunting thing, call'd Man,

Might soon eradicate so foul a pest,

Would he exert those powers which God has given

To be the means of good; and what more good,

More rational, nay, more approaching Heav'n,

Than the strong joys whicih flow from Freedom's font?

Yon radient orb, vast emblem of the pow'r

Who form'd him, beams alike to all mankind;

The air, which like a mantle girts the world,

Is too, a common good; and even so,

With amplest bounty Liberty is given

To man, whate'er his tint; swart, brown, or fair;

Whate'er his clime, hot, cold, or temperate;

Whate'er his mode of faith, whate'er his state,

Or rich, or poor, great Nature cries—BE FREE.

How comes it then, that man neglects the call?

Nay, like the callous felon, chuckles loud

Amidst corroding chains? Can that Great Cause

Who made man free, both mind and body free,

And gave his reason as a sentinel

To guard the glorious gift: can he be pleas'd

To see his rich donation cast away,

Or part with inattention, as not worth

Th' acceptance of his creatures? NO! my friends;

Whate'er God gives, he gives to be enjoy'd,

[Page] But not abuss'd; and the mean wretch who' neath

A tyrant's feet this precious jewel throws,

Spurns the vast Power who plac'd it in his hands.

How comes it then, that minds are thus abas'd,

That man, though Nature loudly calls, BE FREE!

Has clos'd his ears against her, and become

A mean, a grov'ling wretch! Why, thus it is,

O Superstition! thou who point'st to man,

And call'st the fragile piece a demi-god;

Yes, thou who wand'rest o'er the world, array'd

In pure Religion's mantle; thou whose breath

Conveys those potent opiates to the brain

Which bring on Reason's sleep; O! dark brow'd fiend,

All, all these are thine!—

⁷ *GLEE FOR THREE VOICES.

ARM, arm, the gen'rous Britons, cry,

Let us live free or die.

Trumpets sounding, banners flying,

Braving tyrants, chains defying.

Arm, arm, the gen'rous Britons cry,

Let us live free or die.

Liberty! Liberty! Liberty! Liberty!

[Page]

SONG.

Composed by the celebrated Captain MORRIS, an Irish gentleman.

SURE, Master John Bull, I shan't know till I'm dead,

Where the devil you're driving to, arse ever head!

Troth, I've watch'd you, my dear, day and night like a cat;

And, bad luck to myself if I know what you're at.

CHORUS—Sing Bailinamona, &c.

But, the reason you waste all this blood, and this gold,

Is a secret they say—that can never be told;

To be sure, for such secrets my tongue isn't fit;

For I can't keep it still, without speaking a bit.

Faith, and well I may speak now, for—bark ye, dear joy!

Tho' you say, it's your country the French would destroy,

Since you do it yourselves, they may let it alone,

And mine may be taken, instead of your own.

Britain's car, John, I told you, would break with soul knocks,

When this job boy of Jenky's crept up to the box!

Troth he stole there to drive you—the Devil knows how!

But no Devil can tell, where he's driving you now.

You pay all, and fight all—and lose all, they say:

Now, don't you think, John, that's quite out of the way?

Faith, your very Allies feel so hurt on that score,

That they scorn to stand by you, and help any more.

[Page]

And these Foreigners, too, have a whim in their head—

That the more they neglect ye, the more they'll be paid:

Sure they say, that your King, now they've left him alone,

Will bribe 'em, and feed 'em, to fight for their own.

Devil burn 'em, to say such a Heathenish thing

Of a wise, decent, generous, church-going King!

To fill foreign mouths, will he pinch from the Poor's?

And tax their last scrap for Croats and Pandours?

Oh John! these connections with Goths and with Huns,

Was ever the curse of your Isle, and her sons!

If you knew when you're well, you'd stand fast on your ground,

And, at any one end on't, you'd face the world round.

But to set out a tilting, and shake your weak lance

Against millions of men, arm'd for freedom in France,

Was a twist in your head, Master Bull, d'ye see—

Mighty strange in your Nation, that made it self free.

But your foes, my dear John, say your brains are of lead,

That the fog of your Island's ne'er out of your head;

That alike you misjudge of good measures or bad,

And are stupidly drowsy—or wilfully mad!

By my soul, John, I've study'd your nature awhile;

And I think, when they say so, they don't miss a mile:

The world's wide, to be sure; but as intellects go,

You'r as clumsy and bother'd a beast as I know.

[Page]

Don't you think it's a pretty, political touch—

To keep shooting your gold in the dams of the Dutch?

Sending troops to be swamp'd, where they can't draw their breath;

And buying a load of fresh taxes with death?

Then your friends, who've been sucking the sap of your skull,

Now choose to be fed on your fat Master Bull!

Oh! your wisker mouth Prussia's a Hell of a Bite—

And your Eagle of Austria's a damnable Kite!

Like the Jay in the Fable, all pluck you, good John:

But the whole mean to shew you their tails, when they've done.

Oh! 'twill please you to see, when they all have a feather,

How they'll push forth their wings and go off all together.

Then comes the account, John: and faith, to be frank,

The cost is unbounded; the credit—a blank!

It's a right Flemish bargain, where all you can claim,

Is a plentiful balance of—taxes and shame.

But, when substance is gone, John, one blessing remains—

We prize little things, and we count little gains:

Thus, tho' broke down by burthens, to lighten mishap,

You've a feather or two, John, to stick in your cap.

Yes; Laurels you have, John, to tickle your ear—

For you've conquer'd a Corsican mountain, I hear;

And the Carribbe Laurels—Oh fortunate lot!

You've reap'd, and a fine yellow harvest you've got.

[Page]

Then, a wond'rous magnanimous boast, too, is yours:

With no reason on earth, to bring War to your doors,

You, regardless of policy, safety, or pelf,

Have paid all the world's damages, and beggar'd yourself.

Faith, your tax-burthen'd sons, John, will bless the dark hour,

When the war-whoop of Kings, and the squeakings of Pow'r,

Made a nation of Freemen the clamor applaud—

And load their own necks, to chain monsters abroad.

Oh! to what will it come, John—this guilty affair?

For all acts of your state are, now, acts of despair!

Like Spendthrifts undone, ever frantic they seem;

And widen that ruin they cannot redeem!

Big curses by day, ay, and bigger by night,

On the Jenky-nurs'd Jackall that brought on this plight!

Who has stalk'd on Court stills to that ruinous brink,

Where it's hopeless to move—and more hopeless to think.

A while your brave tars, the great prop of your State,

Have, by glory and conquest, John, put off your fate;

But, if e'er on French decks, shouts of victory roar,

The Crown's a Red Night-cap—and Britain's no more!

Troth, the Cur was well warn'd of War's desperate sin,

Then, with head-long presumption, he hurry'd you in.

The voice of sound wisdom cry'd loud on the curse:

But wisdom was wind, to the voice of the nurse!

[Page]

But the slave will soon see on what sand he was built;

For the virtues of Freemen, NOW wake on his guilt;

They at length see the storm, and with horror refuse

To cut up the Country—for Cabinet views.

Too long, John, I've told you, the helm would break down,

With this foul-going Pilot, that steers for the Crown.

But I've done; for, now ruin hangs over the elf:

So, good luck to your King—and long life to yourself!

LIBERTY FIRE.

LATENT long, and and undetected,

Lay this heav'nly fire electric:

FRANKLIN drew it from the skies,

Flashing Freedom in our eyes.

Through all nations now excited,

Fly the sparks of minds ignited,

Mighty batteries make discharge,

Bursting, thundering out at large.

Dire and dreadful seem'd the shock,

When the world began to rock—

Rock from both its fixed poles,

To let loose our fetter'd souls.

[Page]

Loose from despots and their minions,

Loose from PRIESTS and their opinions,

All in FREEDOM'S RING we join,

Each repeating, Freedom's mine!

All of Freedom's heirs apparent,

Now we feel or rights inherent,

Indefensible, Diving!

These, O Mankind, these are thine!

Claim the birth-right (claim with spirit.)

Heaven gives you to inherit;

Touch'd by heaven's etherial fire,

To your heavenly rights aspire.

Blow, all ye winds! the rising flame!

Let it be a fire of fame,

Blazing, rolling round the Ball,

Like the Sun rejoicing all!

Mons, November 7, 1792.

POPULUS

FINIS.

Notes

*

This Song was composed before the Duke of Brunswic ran away.

↵

*

That is, for the Enquiry they have provoked.

↵

*

Alluding to the affiliated divisions which file off every night of meeting to different parts of the town.

↵

*

Dodsley's Poems, Vol. II.

↵

*

How different the sentiments of this virtuous and patriotic author to those of that apostate courtier, who has dared, in the full spirit of his impudence, to call the majority and support of the nation, a "swinish multitude!"

↵

*

This is, perhaps, more than an oblique glance at Cromwell the protector, and some of his bloody banditti, who, it appears, brought Charles to the block, only with a view to inherit his tyranny, and refused the regal honors merely to avoid suspicion—perhaps I am mistaken—they had a generation of vipers to grapple with.

↵

7

From the Goldfinch Songster, page 288.

↵

Information about this book

Title statement

A Tribute to the swinish multitude: being a choice collection of patriotic songs. / Collected by the celebrated R. Thomson.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2011-05.

ID [DLPS]

N22426

ID [TCP]

N22426

ID [STC]

Evans 29629

ID [NOTIS]

APY1313

ID [IMAGE-SET]

29629

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99028381

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This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 29629.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N22426)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 29629)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 29629)

Source

— A Tribute to the swinish multitude: being a choice collection of patriotic songs. / Collected by the celebrated R. Thomson., Thomson, R., comp..

Extent

x, [1], 12-96 p. ; 20 cm. (8vo)

London: printed. New-York: re-printed by Samuel Loudon & Son, no. 82, Water-Street.,. [New York] :: M,DCC,XCV. [1795]. (Contains numerous allusions to Thomas Paine and his writings.) (Preface signed: R. Thomson.) (With a half-title.)

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