"The motley crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving down the tide, sir.

"Therefore prepare for bloody war,
These kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."

The royal band now ready stand
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel dales, the rebel vales,

With rebel trees surrounded,

The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.

The fish below swam to and fro,

Attacked from every quarter;

Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay, 'Mongst folks above the water.

The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made,
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,

Could not oppose their powerful focs,
The conquering British troops, sir.

From morn to night these men of might
Displayed amazing courage;

And when the sun was fairly down,
Retired to sup their porridge.

A hundred men with each a pen,
Or more upon my word, sir,
It is most true would be too few,
Their valor to record, sir.

Such feats did they perform that day,
Against these wicked kegs, sir,
That years to come, if they get home,

They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.

THE BIRDS, THE BEASTS, AND THE BAT.

A

[From the Same.]

WAR broke out in former days,

If all is true that Æsop says,— Between the birds that haunt the grove, And beasts that wild in forests rove. Of fowl that swim in water clear, Of birds that mount aloft in air,— From every tribe vast numbers came To fight for freedom, as for fame. The beasts from dens and caverns deep, From valleys low and mountains steep, In motley ranks determined stood, And dreadful howlings shook the wood. The bat,-half bird, half beast,-was there, Nor would for this or that declare,— Waiting till conquest should decide, Which was the strongest, safest side: Depending on this doubtful form, To screen him from the impending storm. With sharpened beaks and talons long, With horny spurs and pinions strong, The birds in fierce assault, 'tis said, Amongst the foe such havoc madeThat, panic-struck, the beasts retreat Amazed, and victory seemed complete. The observant bat, with squeaking tone, Cried, "Bravo, Birds! The day's our own; For now I am proud to claim a place Amongst your bold aspiring race; With leathern wing I skim the air, And am a bird though clad in hair.”

But now the beasts, ashamed of flight,
With rallied force renew the fight;
With threatening teeth, uplifted paws,
Projecting horns and spreading claws,
Enraged advance-push on the fray
And claim the honors of the day.

The bat, still hovering to and fro,
Observed how things were like to go,
Concludes those best who best can fight,
And thinks the strongest party right;
"Push on," quoth he. "Our's is the day!
We'll chase these rebel birds away,
And reign supreme-for who but we
Of earth and air the lords should be ?

That I'm a beast I can make out,

By reasons strong beyond a doubt.
With teeth and fur 'twould be absurd
To call a thing like me a bird;
Each son and daughter of my house,
Is styled at least a flying mouse."

Always uncertain is the fate
Of war and enterprises great:—
The beasts, exulting, pushed too far
Their late advantage in the war;

Sure of success, insult the foe,

Despise their strength and careless grow;
The birds not vanquished but dismayed,
Collect their force, new powers displayed;
Their chief, the eagle, leads them on
And with fierce rage the war's begun.
Now in their turn the beasts must yield
The bloody laurels of the field;
Routed they fly, disperse, divide,
And in their native caverns hide.

Once more the bat with courtly voice,
"Hail, noble birds! Much I rejoice
In your success and come to claim
My share of conquest and of fame."
The birds the faithless wretch despise :
"Hence, traitor, hence!" the eagle cries;
"No more, as you just vengeance fear,
Amongst our honored ranks appear.”.
The bat, disowned, in some old shed
Now seeks to hide his exiled head;
Nor dares his leathern wings display,
From rising morn to setting day.
But when the gloomy shades of night
Screen his vile form from every sight,
Despised, unnoticed, flits about;
Then to his dreary cell returns

And his just fate in silence mourns.

TO A RECREANT AMERICAN.

["A Letter to Joseph Galloway, Esq." From the Same.]

"OW that you have gained the summit of your ambitious hopes, the reward of your forfeited honor, that dear-bought gratification, to obtain which you have given your name to infamy, and your soul to

perdition-now that you sit in Philadelphia, the nominal governor of Pennsylvania, give me leave to address a few words of truth to your corrupted heart. Retire for a moment from the avocations and honors of your new superintendency, and review the steps by which you have mounted the stage of power-steps reeking with the blood of your innocent country.

When the storm was gathering dark and dreary over this devoted country, when America stood in need of all the exertions which her best patriots and most confidential citizens could make, you stepped forward— you offered yourself a candidate, and, with unwearied diligence, solicited a seat in the American congress. Your seeming sincerity and your loud complaints against the unjust usurpations of the British legislature gained the confidence of your country. You were elected; you took your seat in Congress and let posterity remember that while you were vehemently declaiming in that venerable senate against British tyranny, and with hypocritical zeal urging a noble stand in behalf of the liberties of your country, you were at the same time betraying their secrets, ridiculing their economy, and making sport of their conduct, in private letters to your friend Governor * * * * * * *.

But your abilities were not equal to your treachery. Your character became suspected. You were left out of the delegation, and fearing the just resentment of your injured country, you took refuge under the banners of General Howe. You well knew that professions alone would not recommend you to his notice; actual services must be rendered to raise you above the neglect, and even contempt of your new patron. The general, knowing your conduct to have been such as to render all reconciliation with your country impossible, and thinking that, from your knowledge of the people he meant to ruin, you might be a useful tool in his hands, took you into his service. You found it no hard task to come into his views; to banish every virtuous sensibility, and even steel your heart against the cries of suffering humanity, and wade through the blood of your fellow-citizens to your promised reward. Is there a curse denounced against villany that hangs not over your head? It was owing to your poisonous influence that took part against his country's cause, and involved his family in misery and distress. Let their misfortunes sit heavy on your soul! It was owing to your seductions that a hopeful young man was cut off with infamy in the prime and vigor of life. Let the blood of Molesworth sit heavy on your soul! You attended the British army from the Head of Elk to the city of Philadelphia-you rode in the rear of that army in your triumphant carriage you feasted your eyes with scenes of desolation-the cries of ruined families, and the curses of the distressed, composed the music of your march, and your horses' hoofs were wet with the blood of your

slaughtered countrymen and former friends. Is there a curse denounced against villany that hangs not over your head? Let these things sit heavy on your soul!

But you are now in the seat of power in the city of Philadelphia. The glow of gratified ambition burns on your cheek, whilst, like a bashaw of the East, you order this or that fellow-citizen to prison and punishment. You sit down daily to a board spread with more thar plenty, and know, with unconcern, that numbers of your countrymen, even some of your former acquaintance, are suffering all the lingering anguish of absolute famine in the jails of the city, within your reach-within your power to relieve. You well know that under the discipline of that arch-fiend, Cunningham, they have plucked the weeds of the earth for food, and expired with the unchewed grass in their mouths-yet you pity not the misery to which you have yourself been instrumental, nor will you suffer their torture to touch your heart. Oh! let this, too, sit heavy on your soul!

The time is at hand when the army on which you build your support must withdraw, and abandon their vain attempt. When this shall happen, then fly-fly to England, for you will not be safe here. Your life and estate are both forfeited—and both will be but a poor atonement for the wrongs you have done. Fly to England, and if you should find yourself despised and neglected there, as will most probably be the case, for the English hate a traitor even though they benefit by the treason then fly thence with the monster Cunningham, to the barren desert, and herd with hungry beasts of prey.

The temporary reward of iniquity you now hold will soon shrink from your grasp; and the favor of him on whom you now depend will cease when your capacity to render the necessary services shall cease. This you know, and the reflection must even now throw a gloom of horror over your enjoyments, which the glittering tinsel of your new superintendency cannot illumine. Look back, and all is guilt-look forward, and all is dread! When the history of the present times shall be recorded, the names of Galloway and Cunningham will not be omitted; and posterity will wonder at the extreme obduracy of which the human heart is capable, and at the unmeasurable difference between a traitor and a Washington.