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the honour the French intended him, that is, of being their king.
And let some of their base calumniators remember, that it is
more honourable to put a King to death for good and sufficient
reasons, than to sell him for 4d. a man. And let some more of
them think that but a few years ago, during the American war,
if they had Louis in Old England that they would serve him as
they did M. de Lamot, for sending fome trifling information into
Ostend, a neutral country.

Or no Friend to Kings.

HARTFORD, MAY 6th, 1793.

6 Still daring Echo wakes the tuneful strain,
6 And
pun, and C

-r prints in vain.

Vide Echo, NO. XIII.

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How dire, how grating to that lawless clan,
Who build up freedom on a novel plan,
To hear each day a pack of dastards base-
Mere water-gruel of the human race-
In this our land, where freedom sprung to birth,
The fairest portion of the spacious earth ;
Where in strange union, Law and Peace we meet,
And full-fed Plenty waddling thro' the street ;

-how dire to see this rascal throng,
With all the pride of self-importance strong,
Come into company among such free,
Such bold, enlighten'd, generous folks as we,
Whose bleeding country pour'd a purple flood,
And blush'd with Warren's and Montgomery's blood;

With other chiefs whom I've forgot by name,
Tho' doubtless number'd on the rolls of fame.
Shall this vile refuse, this ungodly clan,
The foes of every native right of man-
The right of doing whatsoe'er he list,
By secret stratagem or force of fist-
I say, shall these thus impudently dare,
Pour their vile scandals in a patriot ear,
And call the French a pack of cruel dogs,
Murderers, assassins, regicides, and rogues ;
Merely, because by soft compassion led,
They've taken off their hapless monarch's head;
From all his woes a kind release have given,
And sent him up an extra post to heaven-
To tell their Maker they intend to go
Where all are equal in the world below.
Do not these wretches know that generous nation
The French exceed all men in moderation,
And that they lately have become, 'tis plain,
E’en to a proverb, gentle and humane?
Tis true such instances we seldom find,
In this degeneracy of human kind,
Such virtue as transcends whate'er I thought,
That pious people ever could have wrought.
What generous feelings in their bosoms glow!
How prompt to soothe the pangs of royal woe!
Have they not proved mid every trying scene,
Their love most strong for Louis and his Queen ?
First, in forgetting what a brood of kings,
Old Despotism had fledg'd beneath her wings;

Then in depriving him of legal sway,
Lest he should take French leave and scud away ;
Next in confining him with so much care,
From the rude peltings of external air ;
And lastly, what I deem by far the best,
Of love and loyalty the happy test,
In cutting off his head, to save his life
From scenes of woe, of horror, and of strife ;
And thus, by certain means, to keep away

that mournful period of decay.
Then why this bluster, why this causeless blame?
'Tis crime enough to wear a pompous name.
I hate all titles of what kind soe'er,
King, Duke, Stadtholder, President or Mayor ;
And had I but my will each dog should swing
That e'er has had the power or stile of King :
If, good or bad, I'd no distinction make-
The good should perish for the wicked's sake.
And since our government's so prosperous grown,
I think it best to try to pull that down:
For much I dread, lest made by errors wise,
Columbia's sons refuse to blind their

eyes, And, tired of anarchy, should grow content With the mild blessings of good government.

Yet cannot these absurd defamers feel What glorious views inspire a Frenchman's zeal ? Lie, rob and murder, drench the earth with blood, Break faith with man and spurn the laws of God, Each kindred tie, each charity deride, If good the end the means are sanctified ;

Indeed such means more efficacious prove,
As more deserving of Almighty love.
Then since base acts a saving grace confer,
Those who adopt such means can never err-
Such means, O France ! thy great redeemers use,
Such good Egalite with zeal pursues.
Hail chief! renown'd for deeds of blackest shame,
D'Orleans, Egalite whate'er thy name,
Whose head and heart with equal lustre shine,
And in thyself both fool and villain join !
With admiration and surprize we see
One vast monopoly of vice in thee,
In thee, whose changeful life alone has stood
Unchanged, in constant enmity to good,
While ne'er one solitary virtue shined,
To light the Memphian darkness of thy mind.

young Lambelle, in closest ties allied,
By thee corrupted, ruin'd and destroy'd,
By darkest plots his lovely wife pursued,
And stripp'd of wealth to pay thy ruffian brood,
The vile De Genlis and his athiest clan,
Sworn foes to God and direst pests of man.
Yet still the glorious work imperfect lay,
Nor less than blood thy pious zeal could stay;
By thee accused the hapless Princess dies,
To human fiends a wretched sacrifice-
While that loved form and that enchanting face,
Where peerless beauty shone with every grace,
The brutal throng in savage fury tear,
And shouts of horror fill the the tortured air.

Proceed great man! on murder murder

Till satiate cruelty is gorg'd with gore,
And the poor remnant of what worth remains,
Is exiled far from Gallia's hapless plains.
But joy ye race oppress’d! ere long the day
Shall come when guilt a reck’ning dire shall pay;
When the full measure of his crimes complete,
Abhorrid Egalite his doom shall meet,
And that deluded throng by him misled,
Shall wreak their vengeance on his guilty head.

Have not the French declar'd, in terms most strong,
That royal Louis could commit no wrong,
Inviolability's stiff buckler spread,
To guard from each mischance his sacred head,
Given to his heirs, in fee, the domination,
But taken care they ne'er should get possession ?
Yet for these wondrous proofs of loyal zeal
What gratitude did Louis ever feel ?
Did he not break the solemn oath he took,
Though held in durance when he kiss'd the book ?
Did not this Louis, with his child and wife,
Flee from their hands to 'scape the assassin's knife,
And thus in open terms most plainly prove,
His fear and trembling at the nation's love?
And when amidst his native land arose
A band more hostile than external foes,
When fell Revenge unsheath'd his bloody knife,
And hell-born Murder urged the fatal strife,
When from the ax, suspended o'er their head,
His dearest friends and royal brothers fled,

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