The New Hampshire Gazette

An Elegy on the Court of Sessions
Written in the Court-House.

WEEP O ye fiends of litigation, weep
Who ne'er permit your wrangling souls to sleep
But love the ruptures of a noisy court:
And first ye swarms of peace-commanding 'squires
By whatsoever names or titles known,
Put on your mourning (as the day requires)
And join to heave the grief-created groan.
For now no more the stated term shall come,
When gathering Squireships meet with hoary pride
To tell how many eyes, made red with rum,
Or black with boxing; by themselves were tried.
To tell how many love-inspiring tricks
Have in close confab been by them disclosed-
That of the weakness of the weaker sex
May to the gaping crowd be now exposed.
And O! ye frail ones, who by nature led,
And the soft whispers of your sweet-hearts dear;
Have lov'd too well the pleasing paths you tread;
Here mourn your loss, and drop the expressive tear.
For now no more each sex-rewarding 'quire,
With solemn phiz-shall mount the Justice seat
To view the squalling babe, then fix the sire,
Who from their honor's brows, can read his fate.
Mourn then ye damsels with uncommon grief,
Nor check the currents of the bursting tide,
But bring for safety, many a handkerchief
To wipe the various streams of grief aside.
For now alas, the mournful time is come,
When all your hopes of future justice flies;
Hear it ye votaries both of love, and rum,
For lo, this week the Court of Sessions-DIES.