E B（3 / 4）

urder at his thrapple shor&039;d,

and hell ix&039;d the brulyie

as highnd craigs by thunder cleft,

when lightngs fire the story lift,

hurl down with crashg rattle;

as fs aong a hundred woods,

as headlong foa fro a hundred floods,

such is the ra of battle

the stubborn tories dare to die;

as on the rooted oaks would fly

before th&039; approachg fellers:

the whigs e on like ocean&039;s roar,

when all his try billows pour

agast the buchan bullers

lo, fro the shades of death&039;s deep night,

departed whigs enjoy the fight,

and thk on forr darg:

the uffled urtherer of charles

the agna charter fg unfurls,

all deadly gules its bearg

nor wantg ghosts of tory fa;

bold scriour follows galnt graha;

auld venanters shiver—

five! five! uch-wrong&039;d ontrose!

now death and hell engulph thy foes,

thou liv&039;st on high for ever

still o&039;er the field the bat burns,

the tories, whigs, give way by turns;

but fate the word has spoken:

for woan&039;s wit and strength o&039;an,

as! can do but what they can;

the tory ranks are broken

o that y een were flog burns!

y voice, a lioness that ourns

her darlg cubs&039; undog!

that i ight greet, that i ight cry,

while tories fall, while tories fly,

and furio whigs pursug!

what whig but lts for good sir jas,

dear to his untry, by the nas,

friend, patron, benefactor!

not pulteney&039;s wealth can pulteney save;

and hopetoun falls, the nero, brave;

and stewart, bold as hector

thou, pitt, shalt rue this overthrow,

and thurlow growl a curse of woe,

and lville lt wailg:

now fox and sheridan rejoice,

and burke shall sg, “o prce, arise!

thy power is all-prevailg!”

for your poor friend, the bard, afar