Let him go and be damned, with his axes and spades, Of all the vile countries that ever were known In the frigid, or torrid, or temperate zone, (From accounts that I've had) there is not such another; It neither belongs to this world or the other: A favor they think to send us there gratis To sing like the Jews at the river Euphrates, And, after surmounting the rage of the billows, Hang ourselves up at last with our harps on the willows; Ere I sail for that shore, may I take my last nap-- Why, it gives me the palsy to look on its map! And he that goes there (though I mean to be civil) May fairly be said to have gone to the devil. Shall I push for Old England, and whine at the throne? Indeed! they have Jemmies enough of their own! Besides, such a name I have got from my trade, They would think I was lying, whatever I said; Thus scheme as I will, or contrive as I may, Continual difficulties rise in the way: In short, if they let me remain in this realm, What is it to Jemmy who stands at the helm? I'll petition the rebels (if York is forsaken) For a place in their Zion which ne'er shall be shaken I am sure they'll be clever: it seems their whole study: They hung not young Asgill for old captain Huddy,[212] And it must be a truth that admits no denying, If they spare us for Murder they'll spare us for Lying. [A] See Gay's Fables.--_Freneau's note, Ed. 1786._ II. Folks may think as they please, but to me it would seem, That our great men at home have done nothing but dream: Such trimming and twisting and shifting about, And some getting in, and others turned out; And yet, with their bragging and looking so big, All they did was to dance a theatrical jig. Seven years now, and more, we have tried every plan, And are just as near conquering as when we began, Great things were expected from Clinton and Howe, But what have they done, or where are they now? Sir Guy was sent over to kick up a dust, Who already prepares to return in disgust-- The object delusive we wish to attain Has been in our reach, and may be so again-- But so oddly does heaven its bounties dispense, And has granted our king such a small share of sense That, let Fortune favour or smile as she will, We are doomed to drive on, like a horse in a mill, And though we may seem to advance on our rout, 'Tis but to return to where we sate out. From hence I infer (by way of improvement) That nothing is got by this circular movement; And I plainly perceive, from this fatal delay, We are going to ruin the round-about way! Some nations, like ships, give up to the gale, And are hurried ashore with a full flowing sail; So Sweden submitted to absolute power, And freemen were changed to be slaves in an hour; Thus Theodore soon from his grandeur came down, Forsaking his subjects and Corsican crown; But we--'tis our fate, without ally or friend,