'Ye generous bands, behold the task-to save
Or yield whole nations to an instant grave.
Rise then to war! to timely vengeance rise!
Ere the grey sire, the helpless infant dies:
Look thro' the world, see endless years descend;
What realms, what ages, on your arms depend!
Reverse the fate, avenge the insulted sky;
Move to the work: we conquer or we die!" "

British cruelty to American prisoners.

Story of LUCINDA.

Prison-ship.

"But of all tales that war's black annals hold,
The darkest, foulest, still remains untold;
New modes of torture wait the shameful strife,
And Britain wantons in the waste of life.

Cold-blooded CRUELTY! first fiend of hell!
Ah! think no more with savage hordes to dwell:
Quit the Caribbean tribes who eat their slain,
Fly that grim gang, the inquisitors of Spain,
Boast not thy deeds in Moloch's shrines of old,
Leave Barbary's pirates to their blood-bought gold,
Let Holland steal her victims, force them o'er

To toils and death on Java's morbid shore;

Some cloak, some color, all these crimes may plead-
'Tis avarice, passion, blind religion's deed;
But Britons here, in this fraternal broil,
Grave, cool, deliberate, in thy service toil.

Come then, curs'd goddess, where thy votaries reign;
Inhale their incense from the land and main:

Come to New York, their conquering arms to greet,
Brood o'er their camp, and breathe along their fleet,
See the black PRISON-SHIP'S expanding womb
Impested thousands, quick and dead, entomb.