Indignation

The day will soon come, when the Judge and the Ponderer,'

Will judge between thee, and the charge-daring

'Wanderer;'

Will say--'Thou who cast the first stone at thy wife, Art thou without sin, and is spotless thy life?'

Ah! what if thy faults should 'outrival the sloe,' And thy wife's, beside thine, should look 'whiter than snow'!

Bethink thee! the old British Lion awoke,

Turns indignant, and treads out thy bag-full of smoke. Spurn thy minions--the traitors, who counsel thee, banish;

And the soldiers will quickly forget all their Spanish!

CORONATION.

Shakspeare says, in King John, it's a curse most abhorrent,

That 'Slaves take the humours of Kings for a warrant.' A more useful truth never fell from his pen,

If Kings would apply it like sober-bred men.

The Slaves of your will, will make your reign, in History,

A misrule of force, folly, taxing, and mystery: Indulging your wish for what, with law, 's incompatible,

For the present, they've render'd your crown not come-at-able;

And the tongues of old women and infancy wag, With, 'He call'd for his crown--and they gave him the Bag!'

DEGRADATION.

To this have they brought thee, at last!

Exposed thee, for all men to see! Ah, surely, their pandering shall quickly be past: 'How wretched their portion shall be!

Derision shall strike them forlorn,

'A mockery that never shall die:

'The curses of hate and the hisses of scorn,

'Shall follow wherever they fly; 'And proud o'er their ruin for ever be hurl'd,

'The laughter of triumph, the jeers of the world!'