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NEW YEAR's VERSES, For 1786; Addressed to the CUSTOMERS of the COLUMBIAN HERALD, By the Printers Lads who carry it.
"OLD Eighty-five is past and gone,
Another year comes hurrying on
"To quit us in its turn;
"With outspread wings and running glass
"Thus time's d [...]ading seasons pass!"
So Parsons say, and mourn.
Their gloomy strain adds grief to grief—
We are the boys that give relief;
With sprightly wit and merry lay,
Our various page to all imparts
Amusement fit for social hearts,
And drives the monster spleen, away.
Abroad our leaves of knowledge fly,
And twice a week they live and die,
Short moment of repose!
Fair to your view, our toils display
The monarchs aim, what patriots say,
Or sons of art disclose.
What e'er the barque of commerce brings,
From sister states or foreign kings,
No atom we conceal;
All Europe's prints we hourly drain,
All Asia's news our leaves contain,
And round our world we deal.
If falsehoods sometimes prompt your fears,
(Like recent stuff from proud Algiers
That give our merchants pain)
Remember 'twas no homespun tale,
And truth shall over lies prevail,
And claim her rights again.
If British isles (that once were free
In Indian seas, to you and me)
All entrance still restrain,
Why, let them starve with all their host,
When British pride gives up the ghost,
And courts our aid in vain.
We fondly hope another year
Will all our clouded prospects clear,
And commerce stretch her wings;
New tracks of trade, new wealth disclose
Where'er the wandering sailor goes,
In spite of growling kings.
Materials thus together drawn,
To tell you how the world goes on,
May surely claim regard—
One simple word we mean to say,
"This is our jovial NEW YEAR'S DAY,
And now—our toils reward."