And wonder'd much whom he was gazing at;
Twice he essay'd to speak--but in a cough,
The faint, indignant, dying speech went off:
"But who is this?" thought he--"a demon vile,
With wicked meaning and a vulgar style:
Hammond they call him: they can give the name
Of man to devils.--Why am I so tame?
Why crush I not the viper?"--Fear replied,
Watch him awhile, and let his strength be tried:
He will be foil'd, if man; but if his aid
Be from beneath, 'tis well to be afraid."
"We are call'd free!" said Hammond--"doleful times,
When rulers add their insult to their crimes;
For should our scorn expose each powerful vice,
It would be libel, and we pay the price."
Thus with licentious words the man went on,
Proving that liberty of speech was gone;
That all were slaves--nor had we better chance
For better times, than as allies to France.
Loud groan'd the Stranger--Why, he must relate,
And own'd, "In sorrow for his country's fate;"
"Nay, she were safe," the ready man replied,
"Might patriots rule her, and could reasoners guide;
When all to vote, to speak, to teach, are free,
Whate'er their creeds or their opinions be;
When books of statutes are consumed in flames,
And courts and copyholds are empty names:
Then will be times of joy--but ere they come,
Havock, and war, and blood must be our doom."
The man here paused--then loudly for Reform