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LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED'.
Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happen’d and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, Pray who would or who could wear spectacles
then ? On the whole it appears, and my argument shows
With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes, But what were his arguments few people know, For the court did not think they were equally
Tuus says the prophet of the Turk ;
So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without one if or but,That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By daylight or candlelight_Eyes should be shut.
THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S
Much controversy straight arose, These choose the back, the belly those ; By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head, While others at that doctrine rail, And piously prefer the tail. Thus, conscience freed from every clog, Mahometans eat up the hog.
TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS.
BY THE MOB, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, 1780,
So then-the Vandals of our isle,
Sworn foes to sense and law, Have burnt to dust a nobler pile
Than ever Roman saw !
And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
And many a treasure more, The well-judged purchase and the gift
That graced his letter'd store.
The loss was his alone ;
The burning of his own.
You laugh !—'tis well,—the tale applied
Can see no evil in a play; 1 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.
Some love a concert or a race,
Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes.
Dum licet et locus est, ut tueatur, adest.
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi. His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit ; Hanc penes imperium est, nihil optant amplius,
Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis. [hujus
THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.
The nymph must lose her female friend
If more admired than she,-
If flowers can disagree?
Appear'd two lovely foes,
The Lily and the Rose.
And swelling with disdain,
To prove her right to reign.
A fair imperial flower,
The sceptre of her power.
The goddess chanced to hear,
The pride of the parterre.
And yours the statelier mien,
Let each be deem'd a queen.
The fa irest British fair,
They reign united there.
A NIGHTINGALE that all day long
“ Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
Hence jarring sectaries may learn, Their real interest to discern: That brother should not war with brother, And worry and devour each other, But sing and shine by sweet consent, Till life's poor transient night is spent, Respecting in each other's case The gifts of nature and of grace.
Those Christians best deserve the name, Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace, both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies.
IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.
Hev inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,
Quam raro pulchræ, pulchra placere potest ! Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia tendit,
Cum fores ipsos bilis et ira movent. Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessûs,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas, Hic sibi regales Amaryllis candida cultûs,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa. Ira Rosam et meritis quaesita superbia tangunt,
Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinů, Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatûm,
Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat. Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,
Ceu flores inter non habitura parem, Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usûs
Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.
O MATUTINI rores, auræque salubres,
ON A GOLDFINCH
STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.
Time was when I was free as air,
My drink the morning dew;
My strains for ever new.
And of a transient date,
Soon pass’d the wiry grate.
And cure of every ill !
Had been your prisoner still.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,
Of adverse fortune's power;
Along the treacherous shore.
The little and the great,
Imbittering all his state.
Comes heaviest to the ground;
And spread the ruin round.
And hopes in spite of pain ;
And nature laughs again.
Expect a brighter sky;
And lays his arrows by.
And let thy strength be seen;
Take half thy canvas in!
THE PINE APPLE AND THE BEE.
A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE.
The Pine Apples in triple row
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
Our dear delights are often such,
He sees that this great roundabout The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law, Its customs and its businesses Are no concern at all of his,
And says-what says he? Caw. Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men,
And sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such a head between 'em.
At first he aims at what he hears,
Just catches at the sound;
And stuns the neighbours round.
A querulous old woman's voice
He scolds and gives the lie;
Poor Poll is like to die.
Belinda and her bird ! 'tis rare
The language and the tone,
And both in unison.
We think them tedious creatures;
And women are the teachers.
'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets,
Where Flora is still in her prime; A fortress to which she retreats,
From the cruel assaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow,
These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow
On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived
The frowns of a sky so severe ! Such Mary's true love that has lived
Through many a turbulent year. The charms of the late-blowing rose
Seem graced with a livelier hue, And the winter of sorrow best shows
The truth of a friend, such as you.
NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE.
WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.
Oh happy shades! to me unblest,
Friendly to peace, but not to me, How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree ! This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
Those alders quivering to the breeze, Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine,
And please, if anything could please. But fixt unalterable care
Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness everywhere,
And slights the season and the scene. For all that pleased in wood or lawn,
While peace possess'd these silent bowers, Her animating smile withdrawn,
Has lost its beauties and its powers. The saint or moralist should tread
This moss-grown alley, musing slow;
But not like me, to nourish woe.
Alike admonish not to roam;
And those of sorrows yet to come.
The lady thus address'd her spouse :-
“ You are so deaf,” the lady cried, (And raised her voice and frown'd beside)
You are so sadly deaf, my dear, What shall I do to make you hear?” • Dismiss poor Harry!' he replies, • Some people are more nice than wise ; For one slight trespass all this stir! What if he did ride, whip, and spur? 'Twas but a mile,-your favourite horse Will never look one hair the worse.' “Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing! • Child ! I am rather hard of hearing.'“ Yes, truly - one must scream and baw), I tell you you can't hear at all.” Then with a voice exceeding low“ No matter if you hear or no.”
Alas! and is domestic strife,
THE WINTER NOSEGAY.
What Nature, alas ! has denied
To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied,
And winter is deck'd with a smile. See Mary, what beauties I bring
From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring.
Though abroad they are frozen and dead.