A Caution Against Mobbing Poem by James Wilson Claudero

Ye Poets, be cautious what muse ye invoke,
Be careful too, Printers, and do not provoke
The guardians of justice, or laws of our land;
When you oppose either, 'gainst reason you stand.
To justify tumults, no man should pretend,
Else farewel to order, peace then's at an end:
The Scriptures divine, our good wholesome acts,
And rules that are social, forbid such attacks:
Tho' engrossing forestallers by these are condemn'd,
Let the legislature the oppressed defend.
'Tis the magistrate's duty these harpies to stop,
By ending their crimes, with their lives, in a rope.
These wicked loch-leeches, both here and elsewhere,
Should to justice be brought, all good people declare;
For why should they feed on the blood of the poor,
And starve a whole kingdom, the orphan devour?
O Royal Grand Sovereign, we beseech thee to hear,
The cry of thy subjects let come to thine ear:
Let no high connection such vermin defend,
But justice' sharp sword their malpractices end,
A proof by ten thousand, their guilt shall attest,
O grant us this proof, and thy people are blest:
By necessity urged, we are forced to cry,
To our king, as our father, to grant us supply;
For our Printers are seized, their labours are burnt,
And Poets dare scarcely resent the affront.
No mob I encourage, nor rioters join,
Nor do I 'gainst law and the rulers combine;
I pity John Muat, who fell without blame,
Who suffer'd for others that he can well name:
I condole the fair traders, who were willing to sell
At a moderate price, when the mob on them fell,
And rifling their houses, did pillage their store,
And ruin'd whole fam'lies, whose case I deplore:
Then where is the justice the press to knock down?
Or why should the poet here suffer a frown?
Fair liberty, sure, will hear us complain,
Against those oppressors, who add to our pain,
And law on engrossers must surely take hold,
Which wou'd put an end to all mobbing, I'm told.
Then seize on the guilty, convict them in haste,
Till then, peace or plenty we never will taste;
For judges themselves, if starved to rage,
Would fight for their victuals, and swear it was sage.
I refer to my country both parts of my song,
I will humbly submit, if my judgment is wrong;
But if I am right, I freedom will plead,
For sighing the strains of poor people in need.
And to show all engrossers that I am a hero,
I'll boldly affix here the name of
Claudero.