A Poem to the Memory of our late lamented Queen Caroline of England

ngland's old comforts and England's lov'd shore;
For they dare not by Britons be seen any more.
The hired Italians' could tell if they please,
They liv'y by base lucre many years at their ease.
They were fed for a purpose each Briton well know;
Yet Perjury's efforts late met a death blow;
So effectual, I hope, she will ne'er try again,
To injure the just, or to give any pain.
To the innocent bosom unsconscious of blame--
A very late trial brought on Briton's shame.
I mean to such Britons who try'd to run down,
Our much injured Queen, late depriv'd of the crown;
For reasons too plain, and known very well:
I dare say, the court at St. James's can tell.
May the time soon approach that each freeman can say,
My rights as a freeman I'll not throw away;
For I find that the great ones so impoverish the nation, It is time they are taken away from their station;
They at present so manage, to our sorrow and grief:
They feed us with hopes, yet with-hold us relief;
A refor