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APPENDIX TO CHAPTER III.
[Bk. III.
| Like Hercules to purge the land, | Their tyrants striving to kick down, |
| Intend to act in combination | Who, by perverting law and reason, |
| With th' other forces of the nation, | Allegiance construe into treason, |
| Displaying wide thro' every quarter | Religion, too, is often made |
| What Britain's justice would be after. | A stalking horse to drive the trade, |
| It is not difficult to show it, | And warring churches dare implore, |
| And every mother's son must know it, | Protection from th' Almighty power; |
| That what she meant at first to gain | They fast and pray; in Providence |
| By requisitions and chicane, | Profess to place their confidence; |
| She's now determin'd to acquire | And vainly think the Lord of all |
| By kingly reason; sword and fire. | Regards our squabbles on this ball; |
| I can appeal to all your senses, | Which would appear as droll in Britain |
| Your judgments, feelings, tastes and fancies; | As any whim that one could hit on; |
| Your ears and eyes have heard and seen, | Men's consciences are set at naught, |
| How causeless this revolt has been; | Nor reason valued at a great; |
| And what a dust your leaders kick up; | And they that will not swear and fight, |
| In this rebellious civil hickup, | Must sell their all, and say good night. |
| And how, upon this curs'd foundation, | By such important views there pres't to |
| Was rear'd the system of vexation | I issue this my manifesto. |
| Over a stubborn generation. | I, the great knight of de la Mancha, |
| But now inspired with patriot love | Without 'Squire Carleton, my Sancho, |
| I come, th' oppression to remove; | Will tear you limb from limb assunder, |
| To free you from the heavy clog | With cannon, blunderbuss and thunder; |
| Of every tyrant demagogue, | And spoil your feathering and your tarring |
| Who for the most romantic story, | And cagg you up for pickled herring. |
| Claps into limbo loyal Tory, | In front of troops as spruce as beaux, |
| All hurly burly, hot and hasty, | And ready to lay on their blows, |
| Without a writ to hold him fast by; | I'll spread destruction far and near; |
| Nor suffers any living creature, | And where I cannot kill, I 'll spare, |
| [Led by the dictates of his nature,] | Inviting, by these presents, all, |
| To fight in green for Britain's cause, | Both young and old, and great and small, |
| Or aid us to restore her laws; | And rich and poor, and Whig and Tory, |
| In short, the vilest generation | In cellar deep, or lofty story; |
| Which in vindictive indignation, | Where'er my troops, at my command |
| Almighty vengeance ever hurl'd | Shall swarm like locusts o'er the land. |
| From this to the infernal world. | (And they shall march from the North Pole |
| A Tory cannot move his tongue, | As far, at least, as Pensacole,) |
| But whip, in prison he is flung, | So break off their communications, |
| His goods and chattels made a prey, | That I can save their habitations; |
| By those vile mushrooms of a day, | For finding that Sir William's plunders, |
| He's tortured, too, and scratch'd and bit, | Prove in the event apparent blunders, |
| And plung'd into a dreary pit; | It is my full determination, |
| Where he must suffer sharper doom, | To check all kinds of depredation; |
| Than e'er was hatched by Church of Rome. | But when I've got you in my pow'r, |
| These things are done by rogues, who dare | Favor'd is he, I last devour. |
| Profess to breathe in Freedom's air. | From him who loves a quiet life, |
| To petticoats alike and breeches | And keeps at home to kiss his wife, |
| Their cruel domination stretches, | And drinks success to king Pigmalion, |
| For the sole crime, or sole suspicion | And calls all Congresses Rabscallion, |
| [What worse is done by th' inquisition?] | With neutral stomach eats his supper, |
| Of still adhering to the crown, | Nor deems the contest worth a cooper; |
