Now tyrants rise, once more to bind In royal chains a nation freed-- Vain hope! for they, to death consign'd, Shall soon, like perjur'd Louis, bleed: O'er every king, o'er every queen Fate hangs the sword, and guillotine. "Plung'd in a gulf of deep distress France turns her back--(so traitors say) Kings, priests, and nobles, round her press, Resolv'd to seize their destin'd prey: Thus Europe swears (in arms combin'd) To Poland's doom is France consign'd." Yet those, who now are thought so low From conquests that were basely gain'd, Shall rise tremendous from the blow And free Two Worlds, that still are chain'd, Restrict the Briton to his isle, And Freedom plant in every soil. Ye sons of this degenerate clime, Haste, arm the barque, expand the sail; Assist to speed that golden time When Freedom rules, and monarchs fail; All left to France--new powers may join, And help to crush the cause divine. Ah! while I write, dear France Allied, My ardent wish I scarce restrain, To throw these Sybil leaves aside, And fly to join you on the main: Unfurl the topsail for the chace And help to crush the tyrant race! [70] Printed in the _National Gazette_, July 17, 1793, and republished in the edition of 1795. Omitted from the edition of 1809. THOUGHTS ON THE EUROPEAN WAR SYSTEM[71] By H. Salem The People in Europe are much to be praised, That in fighting they choose to be passing their days; If their wars were abolished, there's room to suppose Our Printers would growl, for the want of New-News. May our tidings of warfare be ever from thence, Nor that page be supplied at Columbia's expence! No kings shall rise here, at the nod of a court, Ambition, or Pride, with men's lives for to sport. In such a display of the taste of the times-- The murder of millions--their quarrels and crimes, A horrible system of ruin we scan, A history, truly descriptive of man: A Being, that Nature designed to be blest-- With abundance around him--yet rarely at rest, A Being, that lives but a moment in years, Yet wasting his life in contention and wars; A Being, sent hither all good to bestow, Yet filling the world with oppression and woe! But, consider, ye sages, (and pray be resigned) What ills would attend a reform of mankind-- Were wars at an end, and no nation made thinner, My neighbour, the gun-smith, would go without dinner; The Printers, themselves, for employment would fail, And soldiers, by thousands, be starving in jail. [71] Published in the 1795 and 1809 editions, the latter of which I have followed. A MATRIMONIAL DIALOGUE[72] Humbly Inscribed to My Lord Snake