Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1801-1806, 1806-01-02
POETR Y.



ALI CAwN, Gsa. HAsTiHcs.
MY fabjeets laughrsi'd. my whole kingdom
fpoil'd.
My creatures rAed, and my hoibsod ilain--
o FAY, vile monfter art shon fstisiy'dl
Haff thou, rspacious brntel f0fhcient wealth
And. crael murder art thou 6lpd with blood
Pcrhap,, inlatiatc, thou art thurftng Fill
For human, gore o may "a thou ever Thrift
And may the righteous God deny thee water
To cool thy boiling blood l--Inhuman wretch
Have not the bfsveh Of my fnbjeep bled
Are they not butcher'd aH i--ALL malacred
And did NOT India foam with human gore
Where 10 the Mard'rcs who has lln his fellow
Where 10 the fobber where the patricidc :
Approach--for you are innocent and clean
Your fouls are whittier than the oceans foam,
Compar'd with bin, che murderer of millions
Yes, bloody brute! The ms,dsrer sf mifhens
Where are the fwsrms that cover'd all my land.
That cultuf'd land, OF which each foot was gar.
den.
Doom'd 10 fupport the mill n. Of nv hoR
Ale thy NOT butcher'd aH--A u maGacredi
And ba,chcr'd. bloody monsss by thy hands
But why becauie. vile brute lhoa mutt have
wealth,
Bccaufc thou nrxR have wealth, my people bled
The land was Aoaicd with tide OF gore
Nv fields, my towns, my cities, fwarm 10 blood
And, thro' all India. one hosrendoas groan,
The grosn Of millions, echo'd to the Heavens
Curfi tc your nation ! and forever curR
TIE luckIsfs hour when India ffff bsheld you =
We have ctfom here, az old as time
OF hoa' ring jufice---Why becauie it's jnitce.
And virtue IL belov'd, becaufe tits virtue.
~ lodians ned no he'll, they know OF none;
Yoa chriiiansia you've one, 'tis well you have
Your crime. call loudly for il
HaRisss my hufband was yopr prifoner;
The wealth Of kingdons flew to his relief;
You took the ranfem--and you broke your
faith;
Alma, was tl4in-'Twas perjury to your foul
But pejury's but little crime to You.
Know. monaer know, that the prodisious
wealth
You fold your foul for, was by juaicc gain'd-
Twas not scqait'd by Tspinc, force, or mur.
der
The treaiurss Of my fathers theirs by conquea
And legal dnminaton--from old timo
Tranimi.tcd by the father to the fon,
In jua fucceffion. Now you call il youn;
And dearly have you purchas'd il Tor, know,
When the joA God fhall hear the cry Of blood,
And of your hands demand the ioss you've
murdcs'd,
That gold will never pay their price--wll nc
yer pay
Your awful ,anfom you mun 60 where AIwHs
Sits on lofty throne, and ev'ry hour
He habs an Engliihmaa, and fweetly fesRs
Upon his bloody heart and trembling liver
For. monAroa, wretch to thy confufon know,
.dimSs can rcliih now no other food
Than hearts oi Englifhmcn--fet tbcS art fate;
Yes, monacr thou ART fate from his rcpaR;
A heart polluted with ten ,houfand crimes
IL not a feaR for Simss--Tcmblc Ysr
He'll tear thy heart out from It's bloody cafe.
And tots il TO the dogs-fsIl many vulturc
Be poifond by thy coria--wolvcs fhall run mad
BY feeding on thy murd'rous earcaie--Mofe
When fome vile wretch, lome monlter OF man.
kind,
Some brute like thee--pethaps thy relative
Laden with horrid crimes. without name.
Shsll ftaIk on earth, aud we want csries for him,
Well torture tho't to curfs the wretch and
ther,
To damn him moa fupreme, we'll call him Hef
ting,