The Crisis. Группа авторов

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99]

      The people, by the language too be known,

      ’Tis survile wretches who are decent thought,

      Such as are sold, and those that would be bought:

      When FREEDOM calls, none should from danger start,

      But take a NOBLE, a decisive part;

      I’d in the cause of FREEDOM firmly stand,

      And dare the stroke, e’en of that Tyrant’s hand,

      Confed’rate villains, and their pow’r defy,

      Born free like my forefathers, I would die

      In that great cause, which is the cause of all,

      Or free I’d live, or glory should I fall:

      While truth and justice did my lines support,

      I’d fear no King, nor Minion of that court;

      Nor King, nor Minister, should then escape,

      But share alike, the injur’d people’s hate:

      Tho’ minions talk’d, and lawyers set about,

      To find the LIBEL, and the AUTHOR out;

      Tho’ one should stare, another rascal cry,

      “’Tis TREASON all, the AUTHOR ought to die.”

      I’d laugh at them, nor care what they could do,

      In honest rhime, each VILLAIN would persue.

      Should such a PRINCE succeed to England’s Throne,

      (Tho’ BORN a BRITON, they must BLUSH to own.)

      Should he keep foes of FREEDOM, and of LAW,

      Such foes as keep TRUE LOYALTY in AWE;

      Pervert fair JUSTICE from her even course,

      And know no LAW, except the LAW of FORCE;

      Should he keep such as these, close to his breast,

      (Striving the Scepter from his hand to wrest)

      Should he keep such, and of the STUART race,

      Who made this Empire tremble to her base;

      Should Scotsmen be prefer’d to BRITON’S brave,

      And none but Scotsmen, or a Scotsman’s slave

      Appear at Court, and lord it o’er the land,

      Keeping all pow’r from the sovereign hand;

      [print edition page 100]

      Should he see only with a Scotsman’s eyes,

      Be taught to mock his injur’d Briton’s cries;

      Coop’d up at Court; (like sheep shut in a penn),

      Little to read, and less to know of men;

      To hear such men, as had no other ends

      But to serve HIM, and be their country’s friends

      Call’d disloyal, and rebels made appear

      By base-born Scotsmen, always rebels HERE;

      This to believe, believe it as his creed,

      And through those traitors make all England Bleed:

      Coop’d up at Court, and there be made a tool,

      The greatest slave, as well as greatest FOOL;

      Should England’s Crown be plac’d on such a head,

      What mis’ry must the people then not dread:

      Would they not curse the cause, the secret spring,

      Whence all this dire oppression came, that King,

      Would they not wish, the Day which gave HIM birth,

      Had ne’er disgrac’d the records of the earth;

      Would they not drag those traitors forth to view,

      Who foes to him, sought England’s ruin too,

      And make them answer for such horrid crimes,

      Which all their race, as well as future times

      Should strive to equal, or exceed in vain,

      Crimes, that would leave a long, a lasting stain

      Upon the land, worse than the Stuarts; who

      BORN SLAVES, tried to make slaves of FREEMEN too,

      Who bound in chains, both LIBERTY and LAW,

      Quite friendless then, but Heaven sent NASSAU;

      He ’gainst Slavery, made a glorious stand,

      And broke those chains, which had disgrac’d the land;

      With tenfold terror hurl’d his Vengeance down,

      And drove a Slave, and Tyrant from the Crown,

      Founded the throne in justice, truth, and right,

      And rescu’d FREEDOM from the shades of night,

      Drove superstition, (with her bigot crew)

      [print edition page 101]

      Far from this land, (James he run with her too,)

      Drove persecution to her seat in Rome,

      Whilst Tyrants wept at Slav’ry’s bloody tomb:

      Restored to Britain, all the rights of man,

      First fixt by Heav’n, on wisdom’s sacred plan.

      Such deeds as theirs, wou’d fire my soul with RAGE,

      And make me e’en against my SAFETY, wage

      War with VILL’NY, and stamp their horrid crimes,

      That each might live, and stink to after-times.

      Would make me call forth ancient British rage

      To just revenge, or mark the coward age,

      Thrice happy NOW, when ev’ry blessing springs,

      From

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