No. XIX.
March 19, 1798.
For the authenticity of the enclosed Ballad we refer our readers to a volume of MS. Poems discovered upon the removal of some papers, during the late alterations which have taken place at the Tax-office, in consequence of the Reports of the Finance Committee.
It has been communicated to our printer by an ingenious friend of his, who occasionally acts for the Deputy Collector of the Parish of St. Martin in the Fields; but without date, or any other mark, by which we are enabled to guess at the particular subject of the composition.
God prosper long our noble king,Our lives and safeties all:A woeful story late there didIn Britain’s Isle befall.Duke Smithson, ofNorthumberland,A vow to God did make,The choicest gifts in fair England,For him and his to take.“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,“ByMoira’sEarl and me,And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,As arm’d neutrality.“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,I’ve begg’d fromMasterRose;The Garter too—but stillthe BluesI’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”“Now God be with him,” quoth theKing,“Sith ’twill no better be;I trust we have within our realmFive hundred good as he.”TheDukethen join’d with CharleyFox,A leader ware and tried,AndErskine,Sheridan, andGreyFought stoutly by his side.Throughout the English Parliament,They dealt full many a wound;But in his king’s and country’s cause,Pittfirmly stood his ground.And soon a law like arrow keen,Or spear, or curtal-axe,Struck poorDuke Smithsonto the heart,In shape ofPowder-tax.[172]Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,“Crop, crop, my merry men all;No guinea for your head I’ll pay,Though Church and State should fall.”Again the taxing-man appear’d—No deadlier foe could be;A schedule of a cloth-yard long,Within his hand bore he.“Yield thee,Duke Smithson, and beholdThe assessment thou must pay;Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,And servants in array.”“Nay,” quoth theDuke, “in thy black scrollDeductions I espye—For those who, poor, and mean, and low,With children burthen’d lie.“And though full sixty thousand poundsMy vassals pay to me,From Cornwall toNorthumberland,Through many a fair countée;“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,Its cause, I value not,Compar’d with this, my constant text,A penny sav’d, is got.“No drop of princelyPercy’sbloodThrough these cold veins doth run;WithHotspur’scastles, blazon, name,I still ampoorSmithson.“Let England’s youth unite in arms,And every liberal hand,With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,To save their native land:“I atSt. Martin’sVestry Board,To swear shall be content,That I have children eight, and claimDeductions ten per cent.”God bless us all from factious foes,And French fraternal kiss;And grant the king may never makeAnotherDukelike this.[173]
God prosper long our noble king,Our lives and safeties all:A woeful story late there didIn Britain’s Isle befall.Duke Smithson, ofNorthumberland,A vow to God did make,The choicest gifts in fair England,For him and his to take.“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,“ByMoira’sEarl and me,And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,As arm’d neutrality.“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,I’ve begg’d fromMasterRose;The Garter too—but stillthe BluesI’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”“Now God be with him,” quoth theKing,“Sith ’twill no better be;I trust we have within our realmFive hundred good as he.”TheDukethen join’d with CharleyFox,A leader ware and tried,AndErskine,Sheridan, andGreyFought stoutly by his side.Throughout the English Parliament,They dealt full many a wound;But in his king’s and country’s cause,Pittfirmly stood his ground.And soon a law like arrow keen,Or spear, or curtal-axe,Struck poorDuke Smithsonto the heart,In shape ofPowder-tax.[172]Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,“Crop, crop, my merry men all;No guinea for your head I’ll pay,Though Church and State should fall.”Again the taxing-man appear’d—No deadlier foe could be;A schedule of a cloth-yard long,Within his hand bore he.“Yield thee,Duke Smithson, and beholdThe assessment thou must pay;Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,And servants in array.”“Nay,” quoth theDuke, “in thy black scrollDeductions I espye—For those who, poor, and mean, and low,With children burthen’d lie.“And though full sixty thousand poundsMy vassals pay to me,From Cornwall toNorthumberland,Through many a fair countée;“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,Its cause, I value not,Compar’d with this, my constant text,A penny sav’d, is got.“No drop of princelyPercy’sbloodThrough these cold veins doth run;WithHotspur’scastles, blazon, name,I still ampoorSmithson.“Let England’s youth unite in arms,And every liberal hand,With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,To save their native land:“I atSt. Martin’sVestry Board,To swear shall be content,That I have children eight, and claimDeductions ten per cent.”God bless us all from factious foes,And French fraternal kiss;And grant the king may never makeAnotherDukelike this.[173]
God prosper long our noble king,Our lives and safeties all:A woeful story late there didIn Britain’s Isle befall.
God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all:
A woeful story late there did
In Britain’s Isle befall.
Duke Smithson, ofNorthumberland,A vow to God did make,The choicest gifts in fair England,For him and his to take.
Duke Smithson, ofNorthumberland,
A vow to God did make,
The choicest gifts in fair England,
For him and his to take.
“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,“ByMoira’sEarl and me,And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,As arm’d neutrality.
“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,
“ByMoira’sEarl and me,
And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,
As arm’d neutrality.
“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,I’ve begg’d fromMasterRose;The Garter too—but stillthe BluesI’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”
“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,
I’ve begg’d fromMasterRose;
The Garter too—but stillthe Blues
I’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”
“Now God be with him,” quoth theKing,“Sith ’twill no better be;I trust we have within our realmFive hundred good as he.”
“Now God be with him,” quoth theKing,
“Sith ’twill no better be;
I trust we have within our realm
Five hundred good as he.”
TheDukethen join’d with CharleyFox,A leader ware and tried,AndErskine,Sheridan, andGreyFought stoutly by his side.
TheDukethen join’d with CharleyFox,
A leader ware and tried,
AndErskine,Sheridan, andGrey
Fought stoutly by his side.
Throughout the English Parliament,They dealt full many a wound;But in his king’s and country’s cause,Pittfirmly stood his ground.
Throughout the English Parliament,
They dealt full many a wound;
But in his king’s and country’s cause,
Pittfirmly stood his ground.
And soon a law like arrow keen,Or spear, or curtal-axe,Struck poorDuke Smithsonto the heart,In shape ofPowder-tax.[172]
And soon a law like arrow keen,
Or spear, or curtal-axe,
Struck poorDuke Smithsonto the heart,
In shape ofPowder-tax.[172]
Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,“Crop, crop, my merry men all;No guinea for your head I’ll pay,Though Church and State should fall.”
Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,
“Crop, crop, my merry men all;
No guinea for your head I’ll pay,
Though Church and State should fall.”
Again the taxing-man appear’d—No deadlier foe could be;A schedule of a cloth-yard long,Within his hand bore he.
Again the taxing-man appear’d—
No deadlier foe could be;
A schedule of a cloth-yard long,
Within his hand bore he.
“Yield thee,Duke Smithson, and beholdThe assessment thou must pay;Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,And servants in array.”
“Yield thee,Duke Smithson, and behold
The assessment thou must pay;
Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,
And servants in array.”
“Nay,” quoth theDuke, “in thy black scrollDeductions I espye—For those who, poor, and mean, and low,With children burthen’d lie.
“Nay,” quoth theDuke, “in thy black scroll
Deductions I espye—
For those who, poor, and mean, and low,
With children burthen’d lie.
“And though full sixty thousand poundsMy vassals pay to me,From Cornwall toNorthumberland,Through many a fair countée;
“And though full sixty thousand pounds
My vassals pay to me,
From Cornwall toNorthumberland,
Through many a fair countée;
“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,Its cause, I value not,Compar’d with this, my constant text,A penny sav’d, is got.
“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,
Its cause, I value not,
Compar’d with this, my constant text,
A penny sav’d, is got.
“No drop of princelyPercy’sbloodThrough these cold veins doth run;WithHotspur’scastles, blazon, name,I still ampoorSmithson.
“No drop of princelyPercy’sblood
Through these cold veins doth run;
WithHotspur’scastles, blazon, name,
I still ampoorSmithson.
“Let England’s youth unite in arms,And every liberal hand,With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,To save their native land:
“Let England’s youth unite in arms,
And every liberal hand,
With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,
To save their native land:
“I atSt. Martin’sVestry Board,To swear shall be content,That I have children eight, and claimDeductions ten per cent.”
“I atSt. Martin’sVestry Board,
To swear shall be content,
That I have children eight, and claim
Deductions ten per cent.”
God bless us all from factious foes,And French fraternal kiss;And grant the king may never makeAnotherDukelike this.[173]
God bless us all from factious foes,
And French fraternal kiss;
And grant the king may never make
AnotherDukelike this.[173]