[1] From the edition of 1809. The poem was first published in the May number of the _United States Magazine_, 1779, and much revised and enlarged for the edition of 1786, where it bore the title, "George III. His Soliloquy for 1779." This earliest version, which began with the startling line, "O Damn this Congress, damn each _upstart_ state," was made up as follows, the numbering referring to the above version: Lines 68-72, 47-64, followed by "Yet rogues and savage tribes I must employ, And what I cannot conquer will destroy." Lines 23-32, followed by "Ye daring hosts that croud Columbia's shore, Tremble ye traitors, and exult no more; Flames I shall hurl with an unceasing hand, Till fires eternal blaze throughout your land, And every dome and every town expires, And traitors perish in the unfeeling fires; But hold--though this be all my soul's desire, Will my own towns be proof to _rebel_ fire. If in revenge my raging foes should come, And burn my London--it would strike me dumb, To see my children and my queen in tears, And these tall piles come tumbling round my ears, Would to its inmost caverns fright my mind, And stun ourself, the boldest of mankind." Lines 73-76, followed by "My future years I consecrate to woe, For this great loss my soul in tears shall flow." Ending with lines 77-82. [2] Alluding to the peace of 1761 and the forced retirement of Pitt. [3] "And sent a scoundrel by the name of Gage."--_Ed. 1786._ [4] "O let the earth my rugged fate bemoan, And give at least one sympathizing groan." --_United States Magazine, 1779._ SIR HARRY'S INVITATION[5] Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, Here are axes and shovels, and something to do! For the sake of our king, Come, labour and sing; You left all you had for his honour and glory, And he will remember the suffering Tory: We have, it is true, Some small work to do; But here's for your pay Twelve coppers a day, And never regard what the rebels may say, But throw off your jerkins and labour away. To raise up the rampart, and pile up the wall, To pull down old houses and dig the canal, To build and destroy-- Be this your employ, In the day time to work at our fortifications, And steal in the night from the rebels your rations: The king wants your aid, Not empty parade; Advance to your places Ye men of long faces, Nor ponder too much on your former disgraces, This year, I presume, will quite alter your cases.