The Prince her husband's brows t'adorn, Had planted there a golden horn,

And plac'd his lordship in the palace;
Where well-bred cuckolds, pimps, and peers,
And letchers, old in sin, and years,
Kept sinking Gotham in arrears,
Defying all the shafts of malice.

Lxit.
Her credit sunk, her taxes rose,
She saw her sons borne down with woes,
Herself encompass’d by her foes,

Who brav'd her threats, her strength defied;
And Gotham, who triumphant bore
Her arms to ev'ry distant shore,
No longer heard her cannons roar,
Or saw her ships the ocean ride.

LXIII. Her armies, fam'd for valor's meed, She saw a weak commander lead, Who ne'er achiev'd one warlike deed, .

Or gave his country's foes a trimming; A swaggering, proud, unwieldy lubber, Well known for cowardice, and blubber, And only fit to play a rubber

With simp’ring chiefs, or bilk the women.

LXIV.
Thus have I told in faithful rhymes;
( A warning to the present times)
How Gotham was debas’d by crimes

Of men, who held the highest stations;
And let no future bard proclaim .
The direful story of her shame,
But may her lost, degraded name
Be blotted from the list of nations.

LXV. Thrice happy BRITAIN ! favor'd isle, i Where justice, peace, and plenty smile,

Thy praise demands my votive song; Art thou, like Gotham, fall’n, accurst, Plagu'd by a monarch deem'd the worst?-Ah no! thy Prince by virtue nurs’d, Abhors the mė an, and vicious throng.

LXVI.
Thy court, for merit passing rare, •
No gamesters, cuckolds, pimps, are there,
But gentle lords, and ladies fair, ...

Sipping their coffee, wine, and sherbet ;
There's Y-m--th's lord, who from his birth
Has prou'd a miracle of worth,
And Hết--d, fairest nymph on earth, ;
Except that matchless star, Fitzherbert.

.' E

LXVII. There's Headfort, Nature's choice production, An enemy to base seduction,

The pink of dukes, of knights, and peers.; No wretch is he of pimping fame, No hoary letcher, lost to shame, Whose passions age can never tame,

But one whose virtues grace his years,

LXVIII.
And let me sing without rebuke,
The praises of each royal duke,
(Not like unhappy Gotham's gabies ;)
But Princes who can write and read,
And emulous of glory's meed,
Of ev'ry rile dishonest deed

As innocent, as new-born babies,

LXIX,
And let me sing in nice rotation,
The num'rous worthies of the nation,

Whose fame smells sweetly, like geranium ;
But hold-good folks--for so much sense
I can't afford for eighteen-pence,
You'd fancy I hold cheap, from thence,

The labors of my pericraneum.

LXX. . But yet again, in merry strain,

I'll prove Britannia's loyal herald; Ye Muses fire me—ye Gods inspire me,

With stanzas worthy of FITZGERALD!

LXXI. Heav'n bless the Regent and his Mother, Each SISTER, MINISTER, and BROTHER, His DAUGHTER more than any other;

And grant her beauty, health, prosperity And THOU MY COUNTRY! land divine Oh! ne'er may Gotham's fate be thine, Long may thy PRINCE in VIRTUE shine

And truly great, be proud to merit thee,

The end.

G. Hazard, Printer, Beech-Street, London.

31m pliian

ito

. Isiaalist's.. I pitic "IT?1417, I ay hin"), JUAL