Shall Britons court a Tyrant's smiles ?

Shall Britons, chang'd to Slaves!

Be gull'd by the Usurper's wiles,

And hypocritick knaves?

Who slily say, << we only mean,

A hundred rich to kill,

Frenchmen from long experience seen,

Too mild, much blood to spill!

"So meek, so gentle, they ne'er could,

Like the base English nation,

Embrue their hands in guiltless blood;

Britons in ev'ry station,

Characteris'd as loving pain,

For savage, treacherous acts;

Whence they reject with fell disdain,

Those mild laws New France enacts."

Freedom sure reigns in FRANCE ALONE,

For only the Consul's free ;

But mark that tyrant on his throne,

And him on his pillow see,

Where

Where rack'd with agonizing thought,
At which his blood runs chill,

Murders he plots, who sleep has sought

In vain the night to kill.

His death see widows, orphans pray,

Bearing a poison'd bowl,

Whilst this, which some in whispers say,

Seems thunder to his soul:

"Thou traitor to thy soldiers, speak,

Nor feel refreshing sleep,

Lo! we our husbands, fathers seek,

Thus doom'd by thee to

weep.

"Where are thy fellow soldiers,

say!

Whom thy base treach❜ry slew ?

Thou know'st at Jaffa long they lay

Expos'd to public view;

Till Britons, to their foes humane,

Gave them sepulchral rite;

For they with sorrow, heartfelt pain,

Beheld that horrid sight.

"Now,

"Now, Monster, hear, 'tis doom'd by fate, Much longer thou sha'nt live,

From thy own troops just death await,

They shall thy death blow give:

Nor will those guards who round thy throne,

Have screen'd thee long from death,

Their Consul's too just fate bemoan,

Or weep his parting breath.

"But terror fled, shew vast surprize
Thou monster liv'd'st so long;
That France did not against thee rise
In one promiscuous throng;

Thy staunch Mamelukes shall cry out,
Thank God, the Tyrant's dead !!!
For no more Consuls Frenchmen shout,
But King Louis make your head.

"With Moreau, Minister of State,

Not mad Ambition's fool,

And choosing a much safer fate,

Than over France to rule;

Frenchmen

Frenchmen shall then this blessing see,

They've not for twelve years past,

Equality does best agree

With Governments which last."

"For though Republics, at first sight,

Delusive Fancy please,

They, closer seen, mankind affright,

And with such friction tease,

Faction against Faction struggling,
Causing such constant ferment,
With their arts of patriot juggling,
A state's vital strength is spent."

We BRITONS now, to our good King

Will grateful homage pay;

Nor murmur, tho' the war should bring

Fresh taxes ev'ry day!

Because they're rais'd but for the war,

When that's brought to an end,

Those taxes cease we most abhor,

And our bad times will mend.

Where

Where we're tax'd too, true Freedom reigns,

And such just laws are found;

They can defy Old or Young PAINES,

And fight them on their own ground.

Their Reason would before our laws,

(Afraid with Truth to fight,)

Vanish in smoke, as the sun draws

The vapours of the night.

The above written in 1803.

ON