ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY, TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS. BY THE MOB, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, 1780. So then the Vandals of our isle, And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift, Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn, The loss was his alone; But ages yet to come shall mourn ON THE SAME. WHEN wit and genius meet their doom They tell us of the fate of Rome, And bid us fear the same. O'er Murray's loss the muses wept, Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept There Memory, like the bee that's fed The lawless herd, with fury blind, THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED." THUS says the prophet of the Turk, No friend or follower of mine * It may be proper to inform the reader, that this piece has already appeared in print, having found its way, though with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into the Leeds' Journal, without the author's privity. May taste, whate'er his inclination, He meant not to forbid the head; Thus, conscience freed from every clog, You laugh-'tis well-the tale applied May make you laugh on t'other side. Renounce the world—the preacher cries. We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play ; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting, and the chase. Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH. YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red Her favourite, even in his cage, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blest, Well taught he all the sounds express'd The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole, With which Aurora decks the skies, Above, below, in all the house, No cat had leave to dwell; Well latticed--but the grate, alas ! But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure : A beast forth sallied on the scout, He, entering at the study door, And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Just then, by adverse fate impress'd, VOL. VII. |