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for Ireland, that he has for England; and that, if it should seem meet to his royal wisdom to make terms of neutrality for Ireland, at any time that England happened to be engaged in a foreign war, he would have a right to do so. I do not know what his Majesty's great lawyers here may say on this subject, but I know that I should be afraid that I should say something like treason, if I said he had not such a right. Then, the next thing that occurs to me is, if our King has this right, whether it would be practicable for him to make use of it in the present instance. And it seems to me not to be improbable, but that Spain, either from thinking too much or too little of us, might strike up a bargain, if such a proposal was made, and say, " Your kingdom of Ireland has done nothing to offend us. Let her take no part with England in the war, and continue her commerce with us as usual, and we shall not molest her or her merchants.” And then, it appears to me that there is one consideration more, viz: That, if our King has a right to make terms of neutrality for us during the approaching war, and if it be practicable for him to do so, whether it would be advisable for our two Houses of Parliament to address him to do so. This I conceive to be a matter for the People and Parliament of this country religiously to consider, it being their duty to make such representations and remonstrances to our Sovereign, on this most interesting subject, as they in their wisdom may think proper.

But I should exceed the limits I have prescribed to myself for this letter, if I went into an examination of this matter now. I will, therefore, spare another day or two from my loom, and give you more of it very speedily. And, in the mean time, I entreat the good people of this country well to consider what miseries they suffered in the last war, and from thence determine the consequence of this subject to them. The bread of thousands in this town, and of tens of thousands in this country, · depends upon it. I, for one, in the last war, with difficulty preserved myself and my family from the jaws of famine; and most of my brethren, still more wretched than myself, were brought so low, as to go in droves a begging about our streets, or be fed, like hounds, at public messes, which were got for them through charity. It must surely, then, be the wish of every man, who is not so malignant as to take pleasure in the

wringings of our hearts, to prevent our being again reduced to the same state of distress. Neither is it we, in the Liberty here only, who are concerned, but every weaver in the North, and every digger in the South, and every landlord too, who lives by the industry of these. If, therefore, I can prove, that such distress may not only be prevented during the approaching war, but that this country may be enriched and benefitted by it, to a degree which we could not by any other event have expected, I hope, Sir, that you will print, and that the public will read, what even I can say on this interesting subject. And, even though we were sure that it would be of some little advantage to England, that we should be involved with her in the approaching contest, the contrary of which I expect hereafter to prove, yet, even so, I would, with all humility, submit it to the consideration of both our Houses of Parliament, whether it would be wise, or merciful, that we should be all sacrificed to any such little advantage of hers? We ought, certainly, and we do certainly submit to a great deal for the good kingdom of England ; but I trust this occasion will prove, that this country is not now in the deplorable state, in which it was represented to have been in the days of Swift, when, if a finger of England was sore, and it was imagined that a poultice made of the vitals of this country would have given it any ease, at a word it would have been done.

POEM ON THE STATE OF IRELAND.

By Sir Laurence Parsons.

HOW long, 0 slav'ry, shall thine iron mace
Wave o'er this isle, and crouch its abject race?
Many a dastard century we've bent
Beneath thy terrors, wretched and content,
Nor yet has Ireland done ane deed, whose name
Can give a record in the rolls of fame.

What though, by virtue's trumpet late inspir'd,
Our youth stood forth, in freedom's arms attir'd,
And peal'd, in thunders, lo the British shore
The ills, for ages, we ignobly bore ;
'Twas a brief dream ; a meteor of an hour;
Fled is that spirit ; gone, its short lived pow'r.
Look all the island round, and what's display'd ?
Buyers and bought, betrayers and betray'd:
Sell, like a plague, through ev'ry class bas ran,
Nor left one thought to dignify one man.

What though a crown imperial now we claim,
And, with the empty title, gild our shame :
la rank co-ordioate with Britain vie ;
Boast Thrones and Senates, pompous pageantry ;
With all the play-house trappings of a State:
IVhere are the acts or men which speak us great?
Who kings it here ? or who our Senate rules?
Or who, yet meaner, are of these the tools ?
Their merits ; stations ; name them man bg man ;
And then vaunt of your country if you can.
First a raw Peer-a creeping, unknown thing,
In England fouted at, sent here a king:
A sorry aid-de-camp, will sage conceit,
Beneath him wields the thunders of the state,
And at his feet, in humble rev'rence, crawl
Ireland's proud Nobles, Prelates, Commons, all.
0, glorious picture! Who would not be proud
To lick the dust with this right noble crowd?
To bask his crest in H-b-t's haughty rays,
Or shine in W-stm-1-d's mock-royal blaze ?
To crouch to such a twain, search earth around
No other people could on earth be found
But tbine, Ireland. Then still be it thine,
In matchless, meanest thraldom still to pine.
What though, with haughty arrogance of pride,
England shall o'er this long dup'd country stride,
And lay on stripe on stripe, and shame on shame,
And brand, to all eternity, its name ;
"Tis right well done : bear all, and more, I say ;
Nay, ten times more ; and then for more still pray.
What state in something would not foremost be?
She strives for fame; thou for serrility.

The other nations of the earth, now fired
To noblest deeds, by noblest minds inspir’d,
High in the realms of glory write a name,
Wreath'd round with liberty's immortal flame :
'Tis thine to creep a path obscure, unknown,
The palm of ev'ry meanness all thy own.

“But why all this? Has nature strnck this isle
“ With blasting slav'ry? Is’t our air ? our soil ?"
Search your own breast; in abject letters, there
Read why you still the tinsel'd slav'ry wear.
Though Britain, with a trembling hand, unti'd
The fetters, fashion'd in her pow'r and pride,
Still are you slaves, in baser chains entwind;
For, though your limbs are free, you're slaves in mind.
Imperial Ireland !-silly, taunting sound,
Say in what deed thy empire yet is found ?
From either pole, unto the burning zonc,
Where art thou fear'd, lov’d, hated—nay, or known?
When did the Spaniard ever dread thy name?
Or Gallia, trembling, vie with thee for fame?
Or Portugal, cut from the Spaniard's wing,
A tribute to thy conqu'ring glory bring?
Or sturdy Hollander, who, from his fen,
Banish'd the tyrant seas, and tyrant men,
And taught a proud example to our race,
How Kings and nature must to man give place,
When low'ring virtue his high aims inspires,
Say, can he light thy breast with rival fires ?
Or now, while storms of war o'er Europe low'r,
To move or stay their thunders where's thy pow'r?
Does no one wish escape thee to be great ?
Or, is thy heart as petty as thy state?
If so, then rest contented, and contemn'd,
And, as you rose obscure, proceed and end ;
Nor let the page of hist’ry ever flame
With one great deed, to dignify thy name.

TYRTÆUS.

END OF VOLUME ].

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