Produced by Bryan Ness, Louise Pryor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) NO ABOLITION OF SLAVERY; OR THE UNIVERSAL EMPIRE OF LOVE: A P O E M. * * * * * _Facit indignatio versus._ HORAT. _Omnia vincit amor._ OVID. * * * * * LONDON: PRINTED FOR R. FAULDER, IN NEW BOND STREET. MDCCXCI. [Price One Shilling and Sixpence.] Entered at Stationer's Hall ERRATUM. P. 13, l. 7, for mighty _read_ magick. TO THE RESPECTABLE BODY OF WEST-INDIA PLANTERS AND MERCHANTS, THE FOLLOWING POEM IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOUR. NO ABOLITION OF SLAVERY: OR, THE UNIVERSAL EMPIRE OF LOVE. ADDRESSED TO MISS ----. ----Most pleasing of thy sex, Born to delight and never vex; Whose kindness gently can controul My wayward turbulence of soul. Pry'thee, my dearest, dost thou read, 5 The Morning _Prints_, and ever heed MINUTES, which tell how time's mispent, In either House of Parliament? See T----, with the front of Jove! But not like Jove with thunder grac'd{1}, 10 In Westminster's superb alcove Like the unhappy Theseus plac'd{2}. Day after day indignant swells His generous breast, while still he hears _Impeachment's_ fierce relentless yells, 15 Which stir his bile and grate his ears. And what a dull vain barren shew ST. STEPHEN'S luckless Chapel fills; Our notions of respect how low, While fools bring in their idle Bills. 20 Noodles{3}, who rave for abolition Of _th' African's improv'd condition_{4}, At your own cost fine projects try; Dont _rob_--from _pure humanity_. Go, W------, with narrow scull, 25 Go home, and preach away at Hull, No longer to the Senate{5} cackle, In strains which suit the Tabernacle; I hate your little wittling sneer, Your pert and self-sufficient leer, 30 Mischief to Trade sits on thy lip, Insects will gnaw the noblest ship; Go, W------, be gone, for shame, Thou dwarf, with a big-sounding name. Poor inefficient B----, we see 35 No _capability_ in thee, Th' immortal spirit of thy Sire Has borne away th' aethereal fire, And left thee but the earthy dregs,-- Let's never have thee on thy legs; 40 'Tis too provoking, sure, to feel, A kick from such a puny heel. Pedantick pupil of old Sherry, Whose shrugs and jerks would make us merry, If not by tedious languor wrung-- 45 Hold thy intolerable tongue.