The Injur’d Ghost of Liberty

To his Grace the Duke of Grafton

The Injured Ghost of liberty in 1769 at the Bar of the H— of C—

I.

When all was closed in dreadful night,
And most things wish’d repose,
Forth from it’s tomb the ghastly spright
Of Liberty arose.

II.

Her features all benumb’d with woe,
Her skin was pale with care,
Her languid limbs were parch’d with grief,
That once so pliant were.

III.

With mournful step to find her spouse,
And seek for Freedom there,
She wander’d to that fatal House
From whence her sorrows are.

IV.

She touch’d the Bar, and gave a groan,
Bid Serjeant hold her shroud;
She look’d about, and shook her head,
And thus bewail’d aloud:

V.

Mr. Speaker, I came here to wish,
With patience you wou’d hear,
’Tis Plaintiff Liberty that speaks,
The House would lend an ear.

VI.

Hear, hear — then see the breathless form,
Which thy misdeeds have brought,
Hear, hear — behold that empty shade
Which thy misjudgements wrought.

VII.

Look here, and see the piteous shape
That once was fond to live:
Say, monsters, why did ye destroy
That life ye’re here to give.

VIII.

The methods took were horrid foul,
Through Bute and Grafton’s will,
The Prince bid the Dame to know,
She wou’d be ruler still.

IX.

Let Bute himself be forc’d to see
The deadly waste he’s made
To blast the fruit that’s Britain’s growth
In Liberty’s fair mead.

X.

Then let him feel with tortur’d heart
The stroke he lately gave,
For Britons will lament the deed,
And rue it to their grave.

XI.

This foreign Princess vow’d revenge
On Wilkes’s cursed plot,
Nor wou’d she rest one night or day
Till full revenge she got.

XII.

Then Grafton came, and promised much
If Grenville would firmly stand,
He’d carry through the wrongs begun
With high despotic hand.

XIII.

How cou’d ye (none but ye could do)
Cut off my bloom so soon,
And let my lasting night come on
Amid its perfect noon.

XIV.

Hear, hear — Thus fell that Bulwark Law
Which held me fast in hand,
And with it dragg’d me to its grave,
And bade me leave the land.

XV.

Here then I stand, and firmly ask
What right ye had to act
And judge against the well known law
Of freedom and of fact.

XVI.

What then is gain’d by Blackstone’s Book,
Or cull’d from Nugent’s Law,
When contradicted by themselves,
It matters not a straw.

XVII.

The Treasury band led up the van;
Then they were sure to win,
The major part went out with North,
The Minor staid within.

XVIII.

How can ye vow a Patriot part,
And yet that vow forsake;
How cou’d ye think to win my heart,
Yet cause that Heart to break.

XIX.

Why did ye tell to all the world
Their freedom you’d protect;
Yet truly prove those gilded words
To be of none effect.

XX.

Oft have I heard this house declare,
That Liberty should live,
When by your wounding words you mean
Nought else but to deceive.

XXI.

Oft have I on my bended knee
Submissive come to know
Your will — what not? — to please that will
Been forc’d to undergo.

XXII.

Where are the few who lov’d me dear?
Have they forsook the land?
Sure they have not been brib’d by gold,
Nor bought by Grafton’s hand.

XXIII.

Yes, yes, the tale is surely true,
Or else no force cou’d do’t;
For Britain’s Liberty to fall
A sacrifice to Bute.

XXIV.

Where are those men who dar’d destroy
The Nation’s right and mine;
To Bute — the sacrifice was made,
The shame O Grafton’s thine.

XXV.

What more, ye Fiends, ye’d wish to do?
What treach’rous ills impart?
’Twas you, Two hundred twenty-two,
That stabb’d me to the heart.

XXVI.

The tribe of law stept forth, and took
Those wicked deeds in hand,
Decreed the law of Parliament,
Is law for all the land.

XXVII.

The Freeman’s vote was soon destroy’d,
And with it went his right;
The greater number was the less,
The lesser chose the Knight.

XXVIII.

Thus was I slain, and thus I fell,
O curs’d decree of law,
Thus from the Kingdom I’m ordain’d
For ever to withdraw.

XXIX.

The Nation lov’d me to the heart,
And I to it belong’d,
But parted thus by shameful act,
The Kingdom has been wrong’d.

XXX.

Why for such hardship was I nurs’d
In Britain’s fairest Isle
Or say perfidious why these limbs
Were suffer’d thus to spoil.

XXXI.

Pause on the wicked deeds ye’ve done.  —
Dream of the fatal change!
Your crimes are number’d in the book
Which Justice shall avenge.

XXXII.

Say, where your wicked souls will lodge,
When from your bodies fled!
Think on those pangs ye’re soon to feel
In that tormenting bed!

XXXIII.

May Spectres stare ye in the face!
May horrors guard ye round!
May conscience ne’er forsake such fiends,
But all your thoughts confound!

XXXIV.

Let Ægypt’s plague invent distress,
And every art to teaze,
Till every Briton’s wrong redress’d,
Ne’er let those torments cease.

XXXV.

I am a ghost ’tis true, you see,
I come to haunt the House;
Your wicked deeds have wrought the change,
A lion to a mouse.

XXXVI.

But hark! the midnight Bell has toll’d,
To call me to my Home;
Atone for this your black offence,  —
Remember me when gone!