Thanks to my stars—the unweari’d Sun
Hath his full, annual, Journey, run—
Since my “official” wishes spread
Heaven’s choicest blessings o’er your head;
I’m here again, to seize th’ occasion,
Again to “wish the consummation”
In you—of all this world bestows;
And all the happiest region knows.
The REPRESENTATION.
In fair and foul, in snow and fog-days,
In cold mid-winter—and the Dog-days—
I’ve constant been. From me you’ve had
All informations—good and bad—
The wants of Congress—and the ills
That through our Continent prevails.
Of wars in Europe—how the Dutch
Yield to the Prussian Monarch’s clutch:—
How the fierce Russ and Turk fall out:
How Joseph “knuckles” to the rout:—
How Gallia’s monarch—just and great—
Hushes the tumults in his State:
How Europe strives to topple down
The poor Pope’s triple headed Crown.—
And how Old England—in their papers
Throw out their threats, to cut great capers.—
And more—but brev’ty won’t allow,
A fuller detail of it now.
The WISH POLITICAL.
May our new plan of Constitution,
Prove to our woes—their dissolution;
And go down without alteration,
(Except indeed by amen-dation)
That so our Empire may arise
Until its top stone touch the skies—
Wealth pour its golden tide—then glad
With joy shall sing
The PRINTER’s LAD.
Printing-Office, January 1, 1788.