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The Swinish Multitude 
The Swinish Multitude 
Give me the man whose dauntless soul Oppressions's threats defires And bids, though tyrant's thunders roll The sun of freedom rise Who laughs at all the conjured storms State sorcery waked 'round At power in all its varying forms A title's empty sound 
Hail ye friends united here In virtue's sacred ties May you like virtue's self keep clear Of pensioners and spies May you by Bastilles ne'er appalled See nature's right renewed Nor longer unavenged be called The swinish multitude 
XX APR99