Whilst happy in my native land I boast my country’s charter, I’ll never basely lend my hand Her liberties to barter. The noble mind is not at all By poverty degraded; ’Tis guilt alone can make us fall, And well am I persuaded, Each free-born Briton’s song should be, “Oh! give me Death or Liberty!” II. Though small the pow’r which Fortune grants, And few the gifts she sends us, The lordly hireling often wants That freedom which defends us. By law secur’d from lawless strife, Our house is our _castellum_; Thus, blessed with all that’s dear in life, For lucre shall we sell ’em? No,—ev’ry Briton’s song should be, “Oh! give me Death or Liberty!” ED.] [Illustration] No. IV. Dec. 4, 1797. We have been favoured with the following specimen of Jacobin Poetry, which we give to the world without any comment or imitation. We are informed (we know not how truly) that it will be sung at the meeting of the Friends of Freedom; an account of which is anticipated in our present paper.[12] LA SAINTE GUILLOTINE. =A New Song.= ATTEMPTED FROM THE FRENCH. _Tune_—“O’er the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France”. I. From the blood-bedew’d valleys and mountains of France, See the Genius of Gallic INVASION advance! Old ocean shall waft her, unruffled by storm, While our shores are all lined with the “_Friends of Reform_”.[13] Confiscation and Murder attend in her train, With meek-eyed Sedition, the daughter of PAINE;[14] While her sportive _Poissardes_ with light footsteps are seen To dance in a ring round the gay _Guillotine_.[15] II. To _London_, “the rich, the defenceless”[16] she comes— Hark! my boys, to the sound of the Jacobin drums! See Corruption, Prescription, and Privilege fly, Pierced through by the glance of her blood-darting eye. While patriots, from prison and prejudice freed, In soft accents shall lisp the Republican creed, And with tri-colour’d fillets, and cravats of green, Shall crowd round the altar of _Saint Guillotine_. III.