Why did you not with Tories join To hold the British king divine-- And all his mandates very fine? Then had your faces shined with fat-- Then had you worn the gold-laced hat-- And--said your lessons--very pat.-- Your lives are, now, continual trial, Existence, constant self-denial, To keep down some, who would be royal. For public good you wear out types, For public good you get dry wipes-- For public good you may get--stripes. One half your time in Federal court, On libel charge--you're made a sport-- You pay your fees--nor dare retort.-- All pleasure you are sworn to shun; Are always cloistered, like a nun, And glad to hide from Ragman's dun.-- All night you sit by glare of lamp, Like Will o' Wisp in vapoury swamp, To write of armies and the camp.-- You write--compile--compile and write, 'Till you have nearly lost your sight-- Then off to jail; and so, good night. Turned out as poor as Christ-church rat, Once more the trade you would be at Which never yet made lean man fat. You send your journals far and wide, And though undone, and though belied; You choose to take the patriot side. Your works are in Kentucky found; And there your politics go round-- And there you trust them many a pound.-- At home, to folks residing near, You grant a credit, half a year; And pine, mean while, on cakes and beer. The time elapsed when friends should pay, You urge your dun from day to day; And so you must--and so you may. One customer begins to fret, And tells the dunner in a pet, "Plague take the Printer and his debt: "Ungrateful man--go hang--go burn-- "I read his paper night and morn, "And now experience this return! "Sir! was I not among the first "Who did my name on paper trust, "To help this Journalist accursed? "Thus am I used for having signed: "But I have spirit, he shall find-- "Ah me! the baseness of mankind!" Thus, on you strive with constant pain, The kindest tell you, call again!-- And you their humble dupe remain. Who aims to prosper--should be sold-- If bribes are offered, take the gold, Nor live to be forever fooled. SALEM. [157] Found only in the edition of 1809. The anti-federal press opposed the administration of Adams, and the whole affair of the threatened French war. THE SERIOUS MENACE[158] Or Botany Bay and Nootka Sound: In answer to the Communications of a Persecuting Royalist Last week we heard a king's man say, Do tell me where is Botany Bay? There are, quoth he, a meddling few, That shall go there--and we know who. This Botany Bay is in an isle Removed from us twelve thousand mile, There rogues are banish'd, to atone For roguish things in England done. Ye vultures, here on sufferance fed, Who curse the hand that gives you bread, Recall your threats, or, by the way, You'll find us act a serious play.