Jonathan, turned Speculator, in behalf of the whole corps addresseth their great benefactor and patron.
Ingreditor folo, et caput inter nubile condit,
Virg.
—Nunquam dimoveas!
Hor.
Whilst you, great Atlas! prop the State,
Nor totter underneath a weight,
That would a giant crush;
Let pigmy wights, in Congress Hall,
Set sparrow traps to work your fall,
Regard them not a rush!
A lion should a spaniel bay,
The king of beasts would keep his way
Nor heed the babbler’s throat;
Then deign not, Atlas, to look down
Or punish with a single frown
The angry snarler’s note.
Whilst on your paper throne you sit
With solid gold beneath your feet
Fear not a regicide!
Your faithful Janizaries all
Shall muster thick in Congress Hall
To guard their leader’s side.
Go on, great chief, to make us all,
Not from your shoulders cast the ball,
Lest we, like worms, should drop,
Who on a golden pippin prey,
Till haply on some stormy day
‘Tis shaken from the top.
