That the visage or countenance had not a nose, Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then? VI. 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. VII. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how), So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone, By daylight or candlelight-Eyes should be shut! ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY, TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS., By the mob, in the month of June, 1780. I. SO then-the Vandals of our isle, Sworn foes to sense and law, Than ever Roman saw! II. And MURRAY sighs o'er Pope and Swift, That grac'd his letter'd store. III. 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. I. WHEN wit and genius meet their doom In all devouring flame, And bid us fear the same. O'er MURRAY's loss the Muses wept, Yet blest the guardian care that kept There Mem'ry, like the bee, that's fed From Flora's balmy store, Had treasur'd up before. The lawless herd, with fury blind, Have done him cruel wrong; The flow'rs are gone-but still we find The honey on his tongue. THE LOVE OF THE WORLD OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.* THUS says the prophet of the Turk, These choose the back, the belly those; By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head; * 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. While others at that doctrine rail, Thus conscience freed from ev'ry 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; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting, and the chase. Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'd Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a slice as well as he; With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to spout is eaten; |