Gazette Of The United States And Daily Evening Advertiser

For the Gazette of the United States
Be not zealous over much.

WHEN Zeal, joined with Reason, up
ports a good cause,
It meets approbation, and merits applause:
Yet, whatever the cause, leave but reason
behind,
And Zeal, overheated, will make a man
blind.
The Zeal of a Bigot is sometimes so hot,
His spirits enraged will boil up like a pot:
Then like Balaam's bold ass, he never will
flinch,
He'd burn or be burnt ere he'd give back
an inch.
And if he can't turn the fair world to a
hell,
Gets piously mad and creeps into a cell.
When Zeal to get money possesses the
soul,
All the comforts of life are laid under
controul.
See the big-belly'd Hollander dyke out the
sea,
And eagerly ransack the world after gain:
Now with Zeal to support his opinion
and pelf,
Will drown his own country and ruin
himself.
David Bradford had Zeal in the cause
of his drink,
And swore to his clan that he never would
shrink:
But like David of yore he now wanders
forsaken,
Having left all the whiskey to save his own
bacon.
When Zeal is too warm even in Liberty's
cause,
It singes fair Freedom and burns up the
laws.
Hot Zeal like new whiskey ascends to the
brain;
The sense becomes drunk and the mind is
insane.
Then the wise grumbletonian, a knave or
a fool,
Sees tyrants rise up to bear absolute rule:
Sharp sighted and keen he can plainly
foresee
The congress destroying our liberty tree.
Great nobles, hobgoblins, proud lords,
and base kings,
All haunt his poor mind with the dread-
fullest things.
The democrat rages, he hardly knows
why,
And the aristocrat is near ready to die:
While good honest republicans know they
are free
And would strike off the arm that dares
strike at the tree.
The Zeal of each grumbler transports him
so far,
He fain would rush headlong and plunge
into war:
Yet, if government shakes o'er the guilty
its rod,
To protect the good man in his peaceful
abode;
If the arm, when uplifted, be nervous and
strong,
They cry "See the tyrant! our freedom
is gone!"
Their cries, sympathetic, work wonderful
pain,
Huge mountains they see where there is
but a grain.
When people all rise, and get madly in
motion,
They rave, without law, like the storms
on the ocean.
The big body politic then is like beer,
The dregs and the froth mix with that
which is clear.
Then great Revolutions shake govern-
ments down,
And honest men suffer by rogues about
town.
Should one from a dream, wake, and
ask "What's the matter?
"For what do our countrymen make such
a clatter?"
Not one grumbletonian could tell him the
cause,
But still rails at Congress. and curses the
laws.
"Our birth right they'd sell for a kettle
of soup"
And then like the savages raise a war-
whoop:
Which from Hampshire to Georgia re-
echoes about,
And then at New-York William Wilcox
will spout.
He foams like a cataract newly broke loose,
Amidst the loud hissings of many a goose.
Though boisterous as Boreas in crying
down treason,
Yet, William's wild rhetorick is tinctured
with reason.
The time is at hand when the blinded
shall see
That Congress will hurt not our liberty
tree.
While they brush off the vermin that in-
jure the fruit,
They will prune its fair branches, and
cherish the root.
Truth divine, shall at last over falsehood
prevail,
Then Slander will sicken and Envy turn
pale:
For true born Americans bear it in mind,
That the EAGLE soars not when his
wings are confined.
Columbia's choice spirits shall still remain
free,
And gather ripe fruit from the LIBERTY
TREE.