A Memorial for BRITONS.
VERSES written by J. Duick, during the Courſe of the Rebellion, and publiſhed in the London Courant, according to the following Dates.
An Addreſs to BRITONS.
ROUSE, Brtions! and aſſert Your Country's Cauſe,
Your true Religion, and your Righteous Laws:
With Rage indignant, haſten the juſt Doom
Of Gallic Miſcreants, and the Tools of Rome.
Rebellion, Monſter, horrible to Sight!
From Northern Caves emerges into Light,
Behold her Banners wave in Scotia's Air!
And ſee a new Pretender leads the War!
Britons, 'tis Yours, with Voice, with Heart, and Hand,
Of theſe infectious Peſts to purge the Land:
Nurtur'd in Climes where Pow'r Deſpotic reigns,
And ſhackles the free Mind in ſlavſh Chains;
Where Liberty in ſecret vents her Groans,
And Tyrants Rage on Arbitrary Thrones:
Shall Theſe, to brutal Servitude innur'd,
In Britan, Land of Freedom, be endur'd?
The Britiſh Genius ſtartles at th' Alarm,
And bids her Sons confederated, Arm;
Arm, the mild, legal Empire to defend,
Of GEORGE, her firm, avow'd, experienc'd Friend.
Thus, ſoon ſhall your aſſociating Bands,
'Gainſt all invading Pow'rs ſecure your Strands;
And raſh Diſturbers wail their vanquiſh'd Schemes
To Ruin urg'd, by wild and frantic Dreams.
On the DUKE's going to Scotland.
GO, glorious Youth, belov'd of Britain, go,
And pour juſt Vengeance on the trait'rous Foe:
If Millions, lifting Hands and Eyes to Heav'n,
Avail, to Thee will Vict'ry ſoon be giv'n:
A Nations Pray'rs await Thee to the Field,
That Providence thy precious Life may ſhield.
Blaſt, gracious God, th' Aſſaſſin's Hell-bred Scheme,
And O! be this Britannia's grateful Theme;
WILLIAM return'd, with Health and Laurels bleſs'd,
And curſt Rebellion totally depreſs'd;
Cruſh'd! ſunk! confounded! ne'er to riſe again!
And let exulting Britons ſay—Amen!
On the DUKE's Victory over the Rebels.
OUR Pray'rs are heard, the Bleſſing aſk'd, is giv'n,
Our Country is again the Care of Heav'n:
The Pow'r, ſupremely wiſe, ſupremely good,
Has cruſh'd the Sons of Violence and Blood;
And, what endears the Grace to Britain's Land,
The Office was con ſign'd to WILLIAM's Hand.
WILLIAM, a Name that warms each Briti ſh Brea ſt,
And, like NASSAU's, ſhall CUMBERLAND's be bleſt:
Bleſt be the Line from whence theſe Heroes ſprung:
In deathleſs Records be their Praiſes ſung;
And future Heroes, thence inſpir'd, inclin'd
To humble Tyrants, and to ſave Mankind.
On the DUKE's triumphant Return.
IÖ BRITANNIA! Iö PÆNS ſing!
Let Acclamations round our Iſland ring.
He comes, the glorious Youth, with Laurels crown'd,
Exulting Crowds his Victor-Carr ſurround:
Ten Thouſand Pray'rs were for his Weal prefer'd,
Ten Thouſand Pray'rs were with Acceptance heard.
And now innum'rous Benedictions tell
How WILLIAM conquer'd, and how Rebels fell.
Ye fond Abettors of a Tyrant's Claim,
Now hide your conſcious Heads, and bluſh for Shame:
Growl that you're curs'd with hated Freedom ſtill,
And forc'd to Happineſs againſt your Will;
While grateful Britons loud their Joys atteſt,
We feel, and therefore boaſt, how much we're bleſt:
Boaſt the long Proſpect, that delights our Eyes,
Of future Chiefs from BRUNSWICK's Race to riſe;
That ſhall, we truſt, our Liberty ſecure,
As long as Sun, and Moon, and Time endure.
Publiſh'd according to Act of Parliament by Tho. Bakewell, againſt Birchin-lane, Cornhill.
