But whoever, in spite At American right, Like insolent Haman behaves; Or would wish to grow great On the spoils of the state, May he and his children be slaves, brave boys! etc. Though against the repeal, With intemperate zeal, Proud Granville so brutishly raves; Yet our conduct shall show, And our enemies know, That Americans scorn to be slaves, brave boys! etc. With the beasts of the wood, We will ramble for food, We will lodge in wild deserts and caves; And live poor as Job, On the skirts of the globe, Before we’ll submit to be slaves, brave boys! etc. The birth-right we hold Shall never be sold, But sacred maintain’d to our graves; And before we’ll comply, We will gallantly die, For we must not, we will not be slaves, brave boys! For we must not, we will not be slaves! We have copies of four metrical accounts of the destruction of the tea in Boston Harbor, two of which appear to have been written since the close of the war. We give one of the oldest, which was sung to the tune of “The Hosier’s Ghost.” BALLAD OF THE TEA PARTY. As near beauteous Boston lying On the gently swelling flood, Without jack or pennant flying, Three ill-fated tea-ships rode; Just as glorious Sol was setting, On the wharf a numerous crew, Sons of Freedom, fear forgetting, Suddenly appeared in view. Armed with hammers, axes, chisels, Weapons new for warlike deed, Toward the tax’d-tea-freighted vessels They came boldly and with speed. O’er their heads in lofty mid-sky, Three bright angel forms were seen, This was Hampden, that was Sidney, With fair Liberty between. “Soon,” they cried, “your foes you’ll banish, Soon the triumph will be won, Scarce the setting sun shall vanish Ere the glorious deed is done!” Quick as thought the ships were boarded, Hatches burst and chests displayed; Axes, hammers, help afforded, What a crush that eve was made! Deep into the sea descended Cursed weed of China’s coast; Thus at once our fears were ended!— British rights shall ne’er be lost! Captains, once more hoist your streamers, Spread your sails and plough the wave, Tell your masters _they were dreamers_ _When they thought to cheat the brave_! One of the most ingenious poets of our revolutionary era was Dr. J. M. Sewall, of New Hampshire. He translated the works of Ossian, which were then attracting much attention, into English verse, and wrote numerous songs, odes, elegies and dramatic pieces. His epilogue to Addison’s Cato, beginning, We see mankind the same in every age,