The poet's lyre, to fix his fame, 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, The well-judged purchase and the gift, Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn, The loss was his alone; But ages yet to come shall mourn The burning of his own. ON THE SAME. WHEN Wit and Genius meet their doom, In all-devouring flame, They tell us of the fate of Rome, And bid us fear the same. O'er MURRAY's loss the Muses wept, They felt the rude alarm, Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept His sacred head from harm. There Memory, like the bee, that's fed The lawless herd, with fury blind, The flowers are gone-but still we find ON THE PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW, ESQ. TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF ENGLAND. ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth, Fair Science pour'd the light of truth, See! with united wonder cried Discernment, eloquence, and grace The praise bestow'd was just and wise; So the best courser on the plain THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN; SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, To-morrow is our wedding-day, Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair. My sister, and my sister's child, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride He soon replied, I do admire And you are she, my dearest dear, I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go. Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said; We will be furnish'd with our own, John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, The morning came, the chaise was brought, To drive up to the door, lest all So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folk so glad, The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad. |