The Honest Jury, Or, Caleb Triumphant Poem by Nicholas Amhurst

Rejoice, ye good Writers; your Pens are set free;
Your Thoughts and the Press are at full Liberty;
For your King and your Country you safely may write;
You may say Black is Black, and prove White is White.
Let no Pamphleteers
Be concern'd for their Ears;
For every Man now shall be try'd by his Peers.
Twelve good honest Men shall decide in each Cause,
And be Judges of Fact, tho' not Judges of Laws.

'Tis said Master Caleb a Paper did print,
Which sometimes at some Folks look'd slily asquint;
He weekly held forth of no Peace and no War,
So was forced from his Trade, to appear at the Bar.
Thus for talking too free,
Master Attor--ney
Strain'd his Lungs for to set him in the Pillory.
But Pillories now shall be raised for the Shame
Of some Rogues, whom yet 'tis not proper to name.

You may call the Man Fool, who in Treaties does blunder,
And stile Him a Knave, who his Country doth plunder;
If the Peace be not good, it can ne'er be a Crime
To wish it were better, in Prose or in Rhyme;
For Sir Philip well knows
That Innuen--does
Will serve him no longer in Verse or in Prose;
Since Twelve honest Men have decided the Cause,
And were Judges of Fact, tho' not Judges of Laws.

Twelve Judges there are, and twice twelve Aldermen,
Many Lords, many Members, and Bishops--What then?
Although you should travel all England around,
Amongst them twelve honester cannot be found,
Than this same Ju--ry
Which set Caleb free,
And brought in their Verdict, He was not Guil--ty.
Then let these honest Men, who do pay Scot and Lot,
While Ballads are Ballads, be never forgot.

This Jury, so trusty and Proof against Rhino,
I am apt to believe to be Jury Divino;
But 'tis true in this Nation (oh! why is it so?)
Men the honester are, as the lower you go.
So a Fish, when 'tis dead,
I have often heard said,
May be sweet at the Tail, though it stinks at the Head.
Oh! may Honesty rise and confound the base Tribe,
Who will be corrupted by Pension or Bribe!

A Jury there was, when the Pope was in Power,
That brought out seven Bishops alive from the Tower;
They saved our Religion from Jacobite Fury;
Both That and King George then we owe to a Jury;
So Those that brought out
The Bishops--no doubt,
Brought in our King George, who's so gallant and stout;
Then sure 'tis the Interest of Country and King,
That Juries should never be led in a String.

Thus far honest Duncan hath prophesied right,
And prov'd himself bless'd with the true Second--Sight,
Who though deaf and dumb, in Astrology famous
As Partridge, poor Robin, or old Nostradamus,
Did lately divine
That Caleb should shine
And prevail o'er his Foes in the Year Twenty--nine;
For twelve honest Men have determin'd his Cause,
And rescu'd from Quibbles our old English Laws.

But one Thing remains, his Predictions to crown,
And that is to see the Leviathan down;
Nor let us despair; for the Year is not out,
And a Month or two more may bring it about;
Then in Chorus let's sing,
And say God bless the King,
And grant that all Those, who deserve it, may swing.
If twelve honest Men were to judge in this Cause,
One good Verdict more might secure all our Laws.