THE
GREAT MAN's
ANSWER
TO
Are these Things So?
E.M.[!--IMG--]
ail blest Elizium! sweet, secure Retreat;
Quiet and Contemplation's sacred Seat!
Here may my Life's last Lamp in Freedom burn,
Nor live to light my Country to her Urn:
Die 'ere that huge Leviathan of State
Shall swallow all.—Who thunders at my Gate!
See John—But hah! what Tempest shakes my Cell?
Whence these big Drops that Ooze from ev'ry Shell?
From this obdurate Rock whence flow those Tears?
Sure some Ill Power's at hand—Soft! it appears.
E. M. What's That approaches, John? J. Why Sir, 'tis He.