Oh wondrous revolution!
Oh happy conftitution!
Damnation, profecution
For traitors to our King.

How fmall is the donation
For bishops' avocation,
They pray for all the nation,
And Heaven's bleffings bring!
Ten thousand pounds a year
Cannot be thought too dear.
Oh wondrous revolution!
Oh happy Constitution!

Long may they thump the cushion,
And cry God fave our King!

Difburthen'd of taxation,
O joyful declaration!
From Pitt's adminiftration
Do all our bleffings fpring;
He has paid the nation's debt,
Which proves he don't forget
Our glorious, &c. &c. &c.
And fo to make conclufion,
For every fect's delufion,
To all reform confufion ;
May it's promoters fwing.
So fill your glass with me,
And drink with three times three
Our glorious, &c. &c. &c.

ODE TO FREEDOM.

ROUSE, lyre, tune all thy warbling ftrings,
Whilft I the praife of Freedom fing;
Ye Mufes lend your aid.

Ne'er did your powers of fong fupreme
Affift to fing' a nobler theme

In your Theffalian fhades.

To Heaven alone her birth fhe ow'd,
Its lovelieft boon on earth bestow'd,
O man, to break thy chains.
Ah, hear ye not her cheering voice,
Which makes each glowing heart rejoice
On Gallia's verdant plains?

Thou, Seine, didst hear the lofty strain,
When all the tyrant powers in vain
Effay'd to ftop her tongue,
And foftly roll'd thy gentle tide,
While crowds along thy flow'ry fide
Delighted heard her fong.

Methinks I hear th' enraptur'd fong
In lofty numbers roll along,
Which on thy banks was heard ;
Methinks I hear that high decree
Which bid all human kind be free;
No hoftile power the fear'd:

When lo! fo fwiftly rushing forth
To every region of the North
The winds convey the found;
Fame, with a thousand babbling tongues,
Did all her cheering notes prolong,
And foon difpers'd them round.

They ftole along the Baltic fhore,

The Swede, the Dane, the Pole, no more

Can bear the tyrant's chain;

The Rufs, tho' favage as a bear,
Shall the glad voice with transports hear,
Charm'd with the lofty ftrain.

Thro' all Italia's winding shore
Her bigot fons have heard once more
That fong fo much revered;
That ftrain of old ador'd by Rome,
Where lovely Freedom owned her home,
When Rome her altars reared.

Old Father Tibur lifts his head
As one juft rifing from the dead,

To hear the well known voice;
He to the goddess calls once more,
Hail, welcome to my flow'ry shore,
"Let all my fons rejoice."

He hopes to hear fweet Maro's lyre,
From ev'ry lofty warbling wire,

Delight fair Mantua's plains;

He hopes his much loved Cicero's tongue,
With all its eloquence, ere long,
Will blefs his shores again,

Madrid hath heard the mighty found,
Her fons, aroufed, are gathering round,
Emerging from the Night.
From Superstition's horrid fhades
Oh call them forth, delightful maid,
Oh let them claim their rights.

Indignant at thy voice they rife,
Their glowing breasts, their sparkling eyes,
Alarm the guilty throne;
Her bloody Inquifition's walls
Already totter to their fail :

Spain thy glad fway fhall own.

Hark, by the Mufe's fprings and shades,
Her flow'ry vales and opening glades,
By every wandering ftream,

The voice of Freedom fteals around,
And Græcia's fons, wak'd by the found,
Start from the midnight dream.

Once more thro' Tempe's flow'ry vale
Shall Perfeus bear th' enchanting tale,
Breath'd from the lyre's foft found,
And fair Illiffus, when he roves
By Academus' fhady groves,
Shall hear the welcome found.

And lo! o'er Afric's burning fands,
Her golden ftreams and fertile lands,
The voice of Freedom flies;
Where Niger rolls her copious tide,
The fable nations on his fide

With fouls expanded rife ;

Her footy fons, fupinely laid

Beneath the umbrageous palm-tree's fhade,
Rouse at the welcome found;

No more they'll bear the galling chain,
Nor, ravish'd from their native plains,
In fervile fetters bound.

But chiefly thou, O Gallic fair,
To all thy fons be freedom dear;
O guard her facred shrine!
No more let Faction rear his creft,
With blood-ftain'd hand to tear thy breast,
Then Freedom's palm be thine.

INDE X.

Extract from Poynet's Treatife
on Politic Power, viii. 6

for Conftitutional In- Extract from Robinson's Poli-

tical Creed, xviii. 4
Epigram to P. Pindar, xxvi. 1
Enigma, xxvii. 1
Epigram, ibid.

French, on the plan to ftarve
them, xviii. 8

French Principles, on, xxiv. 1

Britons, Addrefs to their com- French officer, extract from

British Soldier's Reflections on Famine, Address to the Public

Bribery and Corruption on, Guelph, George, Lines on,