On the very same day that his army went hence
I ceas'd to tell lies for the sake of his pence;
And what was the reason—the true one is best—
I worship no suns when they move to the west:
In this I resemble a Turk or a Moor,
Bright Phœbus ascending, I prostrate adore;
And, therefore, excuse me for printing some lays,
An ode or a sonnet in Washington's praise.
His prudence alone[256] has preserv'd your dominions,
This bravest and boldest of all the Virginians!
And when he is gone—I pronounce it with pain—
We scarcely shall meet with his equal again.[257]
Old Plato asserted that life is a dream
And man but a shadow (whate'er he may seem)[258]
By which it is plain he intended to say
That man, like a shadow, must vanish away:
If this be the fact, in relation to man,
And if each one is striving to get what he can,
I hope, while I live, you will all think it best,
To allow me to bustle along with the rest.
A view of my life, though some parts might be solemn,
Would make, on the whole, a ridiculous volume:
In the life that's hereafter (to speak with submission)
I hope I shall publish a better edition:
Even swine you permit to subsist in the street;—
You pity a dog that lies down to be beat—
Then forget what is past—for the year's at a close—
And men of my age have some need of repose.
PART II
But as to the Tories that yet may remain,
They scarcely need give you a moment of pain:
What dare they attempt when their masters are fled;—
When the soul is departed who wars with the dead?