Panegyrical Verses, on the Forty-Five Cliffites Thomas Paine Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Cleary, Scott M., ed. Claeys, Gregory, gen. ed. Thomas Paine Collected Writings. Vol. II. Part 2: Poetry. Princeton Princeton UP 2026 pp. []-[]. 5 Volumes.

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Panegyrical Verses , on the Forty-Five Cliffites
For the Lewes Journal .

Panegyrical Verses , on the Forty-Five Cliffites , Who Went to Chichester , to vote for Sir Thomas Spencer Wilson , Oct. 19 , 1774 .

In ancient times , when Briton’s bold , No foreign Despot’s chain cou’d hold ; When , prodigal of life and blood , They rush’d , impetuous , from the Wood , ( Their native Wood , where freedom stray’d , Secure , and of no force afraid ) To meet , to rout the crested Foe , ambition , in the vale below . Then Prowess met her due reward , And ev’ry Hero had his Bard ; Returning from th’embattled plain , His soul was cheer’d with Hoel’s strain ; The praise of sweet Llewellyn’s Lyre , Cou’d warm the Old , the Young cou’d fire . And dwells , in our degen’rate time , No Builder of the pow’rful Rhime , To crown with praise the glorious few , Who , to Themselves and freedom true , Bright Honour’s shining tract pursue ; Scorn to be led in silken strings , The dupes of Ministers and Kings . Such spirit late thy sons inspir’d , O cliffe ! with British ardor fir’d , When , leagu’d in friendly , firm array , To Chichester they bent their way , To shield the fav’rite Son of Fame , And crush a sneaking Minion’s aim . Lo ! where the glitt’ring cars proceed , The sprightly cavalry succeed , Advancing to the Hautboy’s measure , Each face illum’d with heart-felt pleasure ; Not with the coward , joyless pace , The sullen mien of vassals base , Who , led by some Parochial God , And trembling at his awful nod , Are taught , like Parrots , from their throat , To speak , or scarce to speak their Vote . this noble tribe no Tyrant’s Law , No Bribe can to subjection awe , Free as the native air they draw ; Nay , freer far , for well I ween , Dank vapours clog their wat’ry scene . Proceed , brave Sons ! To view your state , Fair Damsels , crouding to the gate , Their tenderest wishes with you send , If aught their wishes can befriend . Thrice happy ye , whose glorious deed Already meets so high a need ; This with more joy shall strike the heart , Than flutes or fiddles can impart . Propitious may the omen stand , Which fix’d the quota of your Band , The omen quaint , which ye derive From Freedom’s number , forty five ; Mindful of him , whose Patriot Tongue Through Britain’s Isle so oft ’ has rung , Who with a Senate’s mighty rage , A more than ten year’s war cou’d wage ; Whom Duns let loose , whom durance vile , Whom duels , and each baser guile Have fail’d to crush , or to controll The native Ardor of his Soul ; Who now , victorious o’er his ills , The praetor’s Chair triumphant fills . May equal honours grace the Chief To whom your forces bear relief . He ( smiling conscience by his side ) Shall boldly stem Corruption’s tide . What , tho ’ his thoughts , rough from the mine , No flow’ry figure’s aid refine ; Tho ’ his Speech boasts no tinsel’d art ; His sense is manly , sound his Heart . Keen as the shining blade he wears , He dares to think , to speak he dares , The thunder of his tongue to wield , Brave in the Senate , as the Field . Sweet were the notes , that to mine ear Thy honest Wishes crown’d shou’d bear ; Sweeter , if sharer in the same . The Name of lennox added came : Thy Colleague in the Soldier’s toil , Oft ’ hast thou seen him reap the spoil ; And late his glowing Cheek confest , How civic praises cheer’d his Breast . Blush then , ye ministerial Foes , Who dare bright worth like this oppose : Go ransack all the Coast around Where’er a placeman’s to be found ; Each Harbour and each Creek explore To add one royal Voter more : And if ( for yet , I fear , disgrace Fair Freedom’s Isle that hateful race ) There is a man , whose grov’ling soul Each meaner motive can controll , Who from the sordid love of pelf , Will sell his Country , — sell himself ; Display before his dazzled eyes ( I blame you not ) the glitt’ring prize . Or if promotion can incite That wretch to vote , that black is white , Let Hope , bright Hope’s all-chearing ray On his imagination play . — But give , ye Gods , th ’ avenging stroke ; May his neck feel the galling yoke . — Go on then , be each engine tried , Be threats , be promises applied . But spare , O ! spare whom Favours bind , Nor deeply wound the gen’rous mind . Hard fate , I ween , severe his case , Who to be grateful must be base , And on the rack of obligation Stretch’d , give his voice to damn the Nation . Better to prostitute his Daughter , Than of his Liberties make slaughter . Enough of this : the devious Muse Her Panegyrick Strain renews . Then hail , ye cliffites ! hail again ! And thrice , all hail ! Accept the strain , That faintly speaks your high renown : May ( long as Hills your suburb crown , Long as old Ouse , with circling wave , Your gardens and your walls shall lave ) Down Time’s late stream your praises flow , And gather vigour as they go ; May distant Sons reflect their Sires , And glow alike with Patriot Fires .
October 22 , 1774.