* * * * * And lest by length of time it be pretended The climate may this modern breed ha' mended, Wise Providence, to keep us where we are, Mixes us daily with exceeding care. We have been Europe's sink, the Jakes where she Voids all her offal outcast progeny. From our fifth Henry's time, the strolling bands Of banished fugitives from neighbouring lands Have here a certain sanctuary found: Th' eternal refuge of the vagabond, Where, in but half a common age of time, Borrowing new blood and mariners from the clime, Proudly they learn all mankind to contemn; And all their race are true-born Englishmen. Dutch, Walloons, Flemings, Irishmen, and Scots, Vaudois, and Valtelins, and Huguenots, In good Queen Bess's charitable reign, Supplied us with three hundred thousand men. Religion--God, we thank thee!--sent them hither, Priests, Protestants, the Devil and all together: Of all professions and of every trade, All that were persecuted or afraid; Whether for debt or other crimes they fled, David at Hachilah was still their head. The offspring of this miscellaneous crowd, Had not their new plantations long enjoyed, But they grew Englishmen, and raised their votes At foreign shoals for interloping Scots. The royal branch from Pictland did succeed, With troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed. The seven first years of his pacific reign Made him and half his nation Englishmen. Scots from the northern frozen banks of Tay, With packs and plods came whigging all away; Thick as the locusts which in Egypt swarmed, With pride and hungry hopes completely armed; With native truth, diseases, and no money, Plundered our Canaan of the milk and honey. Here they grew quickly lords and gentlemen,-- And all their race are true-born Englishmen. * * * * * The wonder which remains is at our pride, To value that which all wise men deride. For Englishmen to boast of generation Cancels their knowledge, and lampoons the nation. A true-born Englishman's a contradiction, In speech an irony, in fact a fiction; A banter made to be a test of fools, Which those that use it justly ridicules; A metaphor invented to express A man akin to all the universe. FROM A HYMN TO THE PILLORY Hail hieroglyphic state-machine, Contrived to punish fancy in! Men that are men in thee can feel no pain, And all thy insignificants disdain. Contempt, that false new word for shame, Is, without crime, an empty name, A shadow to amuse mankind, But never frights the wise or well-fixed mind: Virtue despises human scorn, And scandals innocence adorn. * * * * *