Who're bound to wage 'gainst governors
Eternal, internecine wars:

And, since 'twas their "sublime vocation"

T' effect Heav'n's disorganization,
Wherefore should their enormous brood
(Miscall'd "the Swinish Multitude,")
That monstrous mass of eye-less matter*
Vouchsafe Omnipotence to flatter?
Why, subject to th' Almighty's yoke,
Should fane aspire or altar smoke?
Let energy of bold emprize

Spread revolution through the skies;
From his high throne, in ruin hurl'd,
Dash the Disposer of the world;

And bid ferment with freedom's leaven

The aristocracy of Heaven!

Desmoulins, in his reply, asserts, " that to disorganize Europe was one of the sublime Vocations of the Convention." Brissot in his address, asks; "What did enlightened Republicans wish before the 10th of August? (the day on which the king was dethroned.) Men who wished for liberty not only for their own country but for all Europe? They believed that they could generally establish it by exciting the governed against the governors, and letting the people see the facility and advantage of such insurrections. See Harper's Observations. informe, ingens, cui lumen

* Monstrum horrendum,
ademptum.

Behold Typhoeus, horrid form,
Foremost advance the impious storm,

The features mar of Nature's face,
Make Ossa Pelion's mighty base; *
Then mount astride their apex high,
Like rising scum of Anarchy !—
Enceladus at Pallas launch

Whole forests torn up root and branch
As easily as the great Nation
Tears up all sacred obligation!

Porphyrion, Rhocus, sturdy Mimas,

Burn temples and abolish high mass;

And humble ev'ry mitred nob

In vile prostration to the Mob:

The Mob, before whose fierce bravadoes,

E'en philosophic reformadoes,

Fell desolation's work pursuing,

Quake at the storm themselves are brewing.

Mob Royal, and his royal Cubs,

The majesty of spades, and clubs,

Conjuratos cœlum rescindere fratres,

Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam.

Virg. Georg. 1

Drays, dung-carts, besoms, mops, and matches;

Hamlet's gaunt king of shreds and patches.*

Whose awful mandate says express:

+ Let people, nations, languages,
My potent sov'reignty adore,
As they, of old, fell down before

The idol of th' Assyrian king;
Just such another senseless thing:

Though here

my simile runs cross,

Since his was gold, our Idol's dross.

Oh had success but crown'd these Hectors,

And giv'n Olympus Five Directors,

(For just so many rebel pates

Venusium's Bard enumerates.)

Our WHIG CLUB, had it then existed,
Would, in their quarrel, have enlisted:

A king

Of shreds and patches

Hamlet, Act II. Scene iii.

+ To you it is commanded, O people, nations, and languages!

That image that Nebuchadnezzar the King hath set up.

ye fall down and worship the golden

Daniel, chap. iii.

Typhoeus, Mimas, Rhocus, Porphyrion, Enceladus.

Fide Hor. Od. Lib. III. Od. iv.

* For Whigs they were, of the old leaven,

Who first made breach of peace in Heaven:
And what do Whigs of modern days

But kindle wild sedition's blaze?

Expectant, in the contest's issues,

Themselves to seize those loaves and fishes

Which they can never hope to bite,
While honest men enjoy their right:
As pettifogger's dirty wiles

Set John a Nokes on Tom a Stiles,
To prove, by desp'rate course of law,
His title to a barley straw;

Reckless of a whole county's curses,
So they can drain the loobies' purses.

But Jove, to keep these rebels under, Unlock'd his magazine of thunder. Launch'd his avenging bolts, and sear'd, With lightning's flash, Rebellion's beard.

*The Devil was the first o' the name
From whom the race of rebels came,
Who was the first bold undertaker
Of bearing arms against his Maker.

Butler, Misc. Thoughts.

* Here Juno down Olympus' staircase

Kick'd sturdy Mimas' recreant carcase:
Here Pallas threw away her distaff

And crack'd Typhoeus' skull with hís staff:
Apollo there, with shaft unerring,
Porphyrion slew dead as a herring :
Here Vulcan strives to find in vain,
With his sledge-hammer, Rhocus' brain:
Here Jove Enceladus o'erwhelms,

Who, with up-rooted oaks and elms, †
Brought to the proof celestial patience,
And cudgell'd all the constellations;
Put the spheres' music out of tune,
Swore he'd eject the man i' the moon;
Though a fine fellow of his inches,

He'd fire his bush, eat up his green-cheese,