Classic Poem

When Charles's Horse, for want of Breath,
Like others fell a prey to Death,
No courtier dar'd to raise his head,
And tell the News, " that he was dead. "
At last they fix'd on Killigrew —
For what may not a Jester do?
A licens'd Wag, who, spite of Rule,
Will speak bold Truths and play the Fool,
And tell a Monarch to his face
His Horse is dead, if such the case.

In pride of War, when Heroes fall,
Then — Eloquence should grace the Pall;
In nervous Style their Worth proclaim;
And fix them on the rolls of Fame
In patriot strains, devoid of flummery,
Like your Oration on Montgomery.

No Hero's praises claim my Song;
No praise is due to acting wrong;
To burning, stripping, cheating, plundering:
Delays, Mistakes and endless blundering:
Nor Charles's German horse that's dead:
But faith, it is the Want of Bread ,
Which threatens hard, (look e'er so funny)
Since the decease of Paper Money.

Seiz'd by a Fit of Opposition
Which baffled ev'ry State Physician;
Each lenient Measure tried in vain
To bring her back to Health again;
Her nerves so firm and weak by spells;
It posed the Doctors Smith and Wells:
And when they order'd stronger Med'cines
She languish'd — puked — in fine, is dead since.

Ah! what avails her former Pride,
When busy Commerce roll'd his tide
Obedient to her nod? Her smile
Richly repaid the Lab'rers toil.
The regal Crown, with Splendor bright,
From her has ask'd, and borrow'd Light.
Ah! what avails the Peasant's cry:
The tatter'd Vest: the asking Eye:
The famish'd Look! the aking Heart:
The Infant's scream: the Parent's smart:
The fainting Wise: the Friend expiring,
For want of Food and Cloaths and Firing!

In this sad Case, Humanity must fail,
Nor Charity can save the Wretch from Jail!
Both want the means to ease the victim's Woe,
Since Gold is Wealth, and Paper only Shew.
With heartfelt Sorrow then inscribe her Urn,
And bid Posterity the Story mourn.

INSCRIPTION .

Here rests, in hope some future Day to rise
With former Lustre in these western Skies,
A Heap of Paper, once by Britain made
The Life of Commerce, Agriculture, Trade;
The Sign of Wealth, and all that Wealth could grant;
The Friend of Man, the Antidote of Want!

Tho' by Rebellion now entomb'd awhile,
This seeming lifeless Heap again shall smile;
Again revive — exert her native Fire —
And shall with Britain flourish or expire!