Save in this patriot tribe, who meet at times To show the statesman's errors and his crimes. Now here was Justice Bolt compell'd to sit, To hear the deist's scorn, the rebel's wit; The fact mis-stated, the envenom'd lie, And, staring spell-bound, made not one reply. Then were our Laws abused--and with the laws, All who prepare, defend, or judge a cause: "We have no lawyer whom a man can trust," Proceeded Hammond--"if the laws were just; But they are evil; 'tis the savage state Is only good, and ours sophisticate! See! the free creatures in their woods and plains, Where without laws each happy monarch reigns, King of himself--while we a number dread, By slaves commanded and by dunces led: Oh, let the name with either state agree - Savage our own we'll name, and civil theirs shall be." The silent Justice still astonish'd sat, And wonder'd much whom he was gazing at; Twice he essay'd to speak--but in a cough, The faint, indignant, dying speech went off: "But who is this?" thought he--"a demon vile, With wicked meaning and a vulgar style: Hammond they call him: they can give the name Of man to devils.--Why am I so tame? Why crush I not the viper?"--Fear replied, Watch him awhile, and let his strength be tried: He will be foil'd, if man; but if his aid Be from beneath, 'tis well to be afraid." "We are call'd free!" said Hammond--"doleful times, When rulers add their insult to their crimes; For should our scorn expose each powerful vice, It would be libel, and we pay the price." Thus with licentious words the man went on, Proving that liberty of speech was gone; That all were slaves--nor had we better chance For better times, than as allies to France. Loud groan'd the Stranger--Why, he must relate, And own'd, "In sorrow for his country's fate;" "Nay, she were safe," the ready man replied, "Might patriots rule her, and could reasoners guide; When all to vote, to speak, to teach, are free, Whate'er their creeds or their opinions be; When books of statutes are consumed in flames, And courts and copyholds are empty names: Then will be times of joy--but ere they come, Havock, and war, and blood must be our doom." The man here paused--then loudly for Reform He call'd, and hail'd the prospect of the storm: The wholesome blast, the fertilizing flood - Peace gain'd by tumult, plenty bought with blood: Sharp means, he own'd; but when the land's disease Asks cure complete, no med'cines are like these. Our Justice now, more led by fear than rage, Saw it in vain with madness to engage; With imps of darkness no man seeks to fight, Knaves to instruct, or set deceivers right: Then as the daring speech denounced these woes, Sick at the soul, the grieving Guest arose; Quick on the board his ready cash he threw, And from the demons to his closet flew: There when secured, he pray'd with earnest seal, That all they wish'd these patriot-souls might feel; "Let them to France, their darling country, haste, And all the comforts of a Frenchman taste;