'Twas their pleasure to look,

In a little blue book,

At the code of their famed legislation,

That with truth they might say,

In the space of one day,

They had broke every law of the nation.

The first law that they see,

Is the press shall be free!"

The next is" the trial by jury:" Then, "the people's free choice;

Then," the members' free voice"

دو

When Rewbell exclaim'd in a fury—

"On a method we'll fall

"For infringing them all—

"We'll seize on each printer and member:

"No period so fit

"For a desperate hit,

"As our old bloody month of September.

"We'll annul each election

"Which wants our correction,

"And name our own creatures instead.

"When once we've our will,

"No blood we will spill,

66

(Let Carnot be knock'd on the head).

"To Rochefort we'll drive

"Our victims alive,

"And as soon as on board we have got 'em,

"Since we destine the ship

"For no more than one trip,

"We can just make a hole in the bottom.

66

"When we've founded our fifth Revolution,

Though England's our foe,

"An army shall go

"To improve HER Corrupt Constitution.

"We'll address to the nation

"A fine proclamation,

"With offers of friendship so warm—

“Who can give Buonaparte

"A welcome so hearty,

"As the friends of a THOROUGH REFORM?"

No. X.

JANUARY 15.

For the two following poems we are indebted to unknown Correspondents. They could not have reached us at a more seasonable period.—The former, we trust, describes the feelings common to every inhabitant of this country. The second, we know too well, is expressive of the sentiments of our enemies.

LINES,

WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1797.

LOUD howls the storm along the neighbouring shore

BRITAIN, indignant, hears the frantic roar:

Her

generous sons pour

forth on every side,

Firm in their Country's cause—their Country's pride!

See wild invasion threats this envied land:

Swift to defend her, springs each Social Band ;

Her white rocks echoing to their cheerful cry,

"God and our King!”—“ England and Victory!"

Yes! happy BRITAIN, on thy tranquil coast No trophies mad Philosophy shall boast:

Though thy disloyal sons, a feeble band,

Sound the loud blast of treason through the land:
Scoff at thy dangers with unnatural mirth,

And execrate the soil which gave them birth,
With jaundiced eye thy splendid triumphs view,
And give to FRANCE, the palm to BRITAIN due:
Or,-when loud strains of gratulation ring,
And lowly bending to the ETERNAL KING,
Thy SOVEREIGN bids a nation's praise arise
In grateful incense to the fav'ring skies—
Cast o'er each solemn scene a scornful glance,
And only sigh for ANARCHY and FRANCE.

Yes! unsupported Treason's standard falls, Sedition vainly on her children calls; While cities, cottages, and camps contend, Their King, their Laws, their Country to defend.

Raise, BRITAIN, raise thy sea-encircled head, Round the wide world behold thy glory spread; Firm as thy guardian oaks thou still shalt stand, The dread and wonder of each hostile land! While the dire fiends of discord idly rave,

And, mad with anguish, curse the severing wave.

QUEEN of the OCEAN, lo! she smiles serene,
'Mid the deep horrors of the dreadful scene ;
With heartfelt piety to Heav'n she turns-
From Heav'n the flame of British courage burns-
She dreads no power but His who rules the ball,
At whose "great bidding," empires rise and fall ;

In HIM, on peaceful plain, or tented field

She trusts, secure in HIS protecting shield—

GALLIA, thy threats she scorns-BRITAIN shall never yield!

AN ENGLISHWOMAN.