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THE

BELGICK WAR-WHOOP,

AN ODE TO HOLLANDers,

WRITTEN 1800.

CLUMP-headed Dutchmen, why are you so

stupid?

Rouse from your languor, guillotine your tyrants, Drive democrats and sans culottes fraternal

All to the devil!

Fight as you did when William Prince of Orange Nobly withstood the cruel Duke of Alva,

Heading a band of unrelenting Spaniards,

Fiercer than hell-hounds!

Fight as you would against a gang of pirates,
Led by some noted Algerine marauder ;

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Fight as you would if Beelzebub himself were Broke loose upon you.

While you are lull'd with siren songs of freedom, See you not Frenchmen riveting your shackles ? Rouse! or you soon must cease to be a nation : Die then, or conquer !

Or, if the tigers of the fell republick
Cannot be forc'd without the Belgick borders,
Bid ocean merge your evil-fated country

All under water!

There is an inflated species of simplicity, consisting of exaggerations of thought expressed by colloquial barbarisms, mixed with occasional pomposity of diction, which it is the object of the following to ridicule. The measure is after the model of "THALABA;" but rhyme is added, as Butler says, merely by way of rudder to the

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About love in the spring,

Something like this will be just the thing.

Tell the reader to behold

The gay

Tints of the cloud-dappled morn!

Then streak the azure with gems set in gold,

And bring into view

Some Tyrian hue,

Mix'd with indigo blue.

Then the meads must be spangled,

And glittering grove

With OCEANS of dew!

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About the fag end of May,

And bid lilacks adorn

Your beautiful morn;

And the thickets must be tangled
For the sake of your spangled.

Now having found

Yourself on firm ground,

You may roam along the edges

Of hawthorn hedges;

Then bid beds of roses

And pretty pink posies

Ravish our eyes and captivate our noses!!!

Interweave, if you will,

The hyacinth and daffodil,

With now and then a big weed
Of purslain and of pig weed,

And add fragrant crops

Of potatoe tops,

And scatter, here and thereabout,

As many hops

As you may please to care about;

And, between whiles,

Say

That Nature smiles,

In her new holiday

Dress;

Nevertheless,

These beauties so rare

Can never compare

With the dear little dove

With whom you're in love.

Next glance a quick eye

To the flame cinctur'd, multihu'd arch in the

sky;

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