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A PROCLAMATION. |
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The praise of Mansfield, and of North, Let next your hymns of joy set forth, Nor shall the rapturous strain assuage, Till sung's your own proclaiming Gage.
Whistle ye pipes ! ye drones drone on . Ye bellows blow ! Virginia's won! Your Gage has won Virginia's shore, And Scotia's sons shall mourn no more.
Hail Middlesex ! oh happy county !3 Thou too shalt share thy master's bounty, Thy sons obedient, naught shall fear, Thy wives and widows drop no tear.
Thrice happy people, ne'er shall feel The force of unrelenting steel; What brute would give the ox a stroke Who bends his neck to meet the yoke ?
To Murray bend the humble knee ;4 He shall protect you under me; His generous pen shall not be mute, But sound your praise thro' Fox to Bute. |
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