HUMAN FRAILTY.

WEAK and irresolute is man
The purpose of to-day,
Woven pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent, and smart the spring,
Vice seems already slain;

But passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;

Virtue engages his assent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

"Tis here the folly of the wise
Through all his art we view;
And, while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length,
And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast;

The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.

THE MODERN PATRIOT.

REBELLION is my theme all day;
I only wish 't would come

(As who knows but perhaps it may ?)
A little nearer home.

Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t' other side th' Atlantic,
I always held them in the right,

But most so when most fiantic.

When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport,
Who bravely breaks the most.

But oh! for him my fancy culls
The choicest flowers she bears,
Who constitutionally pulls

Your house about your ears.

Such civil broils are my delight,

Though some folks can't endure them,
Who say the mob are mad outright.
And that a rope must cure them.

A rope! I wish we patriot had

Such strings for all who need 'em-
What! hang a man for going mad!
Then farewell British freedom.

ON OBSERVING SOME NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE RECORDED W
THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.

Он, fond attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot!
In vain, recorded in historic page,
They court the notice of a future age:
Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land
Drop one by one from Fame's neglected hand;
Lethæan gulfs receive them as they fall,
And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all.

So when a child, as playful children use,
Has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news,

The flame extinct, he views the roving fire-
There goes my lady, and there goes the squire,
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk!

REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE,

NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows.
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full o' learning;

While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws.

So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear,

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,
That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind.
Then holding the spectacles up to the court-
Your lordship observes they are made with a
straddle

As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
("Tis a case that has happened, 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 equa'ly

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 daylight or candlelight-Eves should be shut'

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,

T'he well-judged purchase, and the gift,
That graced his lettered store.

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 blest the guardian care that kept
His sacred head from harm.

There Meniory, like the bee, that's fed
From Flora's balmy store,
The quintescence of all he read
Had treasured up before.

The lawless herd, with fury blind,

Have done him cruel wrong;

The flowers are gone-but still we find

The honey on his tongue

THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;

OR HYPOCRISY DETECTED*.

THUS says the prophet of the Turk,
Good Mussulman, abstain from pork;
There is a part in every swine
No friend or follower of mine
May taste, what'er his inclination,
On pain of excommunication.
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge,
And thus he left the point at large.
Had he the sinful part expressed,
They might with safety eat the rest ;
But for one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarred;
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.

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 an thor's privity.