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BURNING LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY.
Then, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how)
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes ;
For the court did not think they were equally wise.
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 day-light or candle-light....Eyes should be
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,
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,
That grac'd his letter'd store.
Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn,
The loss was his alone,
The burning of his own.
ON THE SAME.
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,
They felt the rude alarm,
His sacred head from harm.
There mem'ry, like the bee that's fed
From Flora's balmy store, The quintessence of all he read
Had treasur'd up before.
The lawless herd, with fury blind,
Have done him cruel wrong;
The honey on his tongue.
LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
Thus says the prophet of the Turk....
* 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.
Had he the sinful part express'd,
You laugh....’tis well.... The tale applied
THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
The nymph must lose her female friend
If more admir'd than she....
If flowers can disagree?
Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appear'd two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of queen....
The Lily and the Rose.
The Rose soon reddened into rage,
And, swelling with disdain, Appeal’d to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.
The Lily's height bespoke command....
A fair imperial flow'r;
The sceptre of her pow'r.
This civil bick'ring and debate
The goddess chanc'd to hear, And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre....