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Livingston, Robert 'A Sayre [Satire] upon the Times'

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Gilder Lehrman Collection #: GLC03107.00692 Author/Creator: Livingston, Robert Place Written: [s.l.] Type: Manuscript Date: 1702 Pagination: 3 p. + docket 29.7 x 19 cm Order a Copy

Verse entitled "A Saytr upon ye Times." Caustic critique of an "Unhappy York," where a manipulative church and king have allowed the colony's political affairs to become rife with corruption and hypocrisy. In New York "villians triumph under a pretence of loyalty and make the laws their tools to serve their wicked ends and cherish fools."

[s.I], 1702
A Saytr upon the Times
Unhappy York doom'd by Eternal fate
To Curst divisions in affares of State.
Happy in being under the Brittish Sway
But curs'd in being ruled another way
When Boors and butterboxes doe pertake
of Favors which an English man must Lack
When Trade (the brittish Darling) is Supprest
And Merchants (under form of Law) opprest
When Justice in the hands of Poverty
Shall Sacrifice the honest Property
When English Laws by Dutchmen shall be made
To Ease themselvs and English Subjects Lade,
When to Complain of greivances is thought
A Crime & to addresse the king a fault
When those aggreiv'd (instead of a Redresse
are forc'd to find a Goale for their recess
When Aldermen return'd themselvs and are
Proov'd Perjured yet it does no crime appear
Bless my kind heavin and send me farr from hence
Where Villaines Triumph under a pretence
of Loyalty and make the Laws their tools
To Serve their wicked ends and Cherrish fools
But tell me Satyr whence these iles proceed
and bite the author till thou make him bleed
Twas Gold (that curst Temptir that did bribe
The grand Ringleader of this hellish Tribe
Great by his Title Vile in every action
He's gon but has entaild a Curse on's faction
A fawning Sycophant has left behind
Cunning and Rogue enough to embroyle mankind [2]
Devout he Seems as the Religion was
His aim, but gold would make him goe to mass
But ere I Leave him let him have my curse
May he to [Nevis] Pack with Empty Purse
And there receive the just rewards of Some
He has wrong'd, then be ship'd off to hang at home
And now (Dear Satyr) keener whet thy Pen
Vennom'd as adders Teeth and bite agin
A Crafy knave delivered from a jayle
To be a Statesman here who'll never fail
The Laws to turn and wind, wher's Intrest Sways
And overrule the [barmen] as he please
Hes Proud as Lucifer tho poor as job
Greedy as [Curberous] mercilesse as the mob
Feirce as a Lyon ins judiciall Chair
But when he's out as Timersous as a hare
And Cowardly he vents his venom'd gall
Garded (by king's authority froms fall
Me thinks I see this haughty [wight] assend
The Bench of Justice where his Looks portend
Certain Destruction as a Sacrifice
To his malice hatred or his avarice
Without he's Scarlet Black at hell within
His Eys all fire kindled by his Sinn
Have you not seen the horse Leech suck and swell
Gorg'd with unwholsome blood he burst and fell
May this Vipirous monster thus be curst
Swoln up with rank ambition may he burst
And if thers such a Place as authors tell
Lett him be damn'd to domineer in hell
There are some other Villans on the stage
That scarce are worthy of Poetick rage
A gogle Eyd Serpent from Batavia spring
Who if he had his right had Long time hung
Thers Hickins Doctins too, but let him passe
A Law Dutch quack no better then an asse [3]
There is a meager Long backt hell hound too
To name no more of the vile Sordid crew
Black and Malitious blood runns throw his veins
And shaking [nodle] shews his want of brains
As for the rest o the Scoundrells let em wait
The approaching Change and then Lament their fate
1702 A Satyr upon the Times

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