BURNING LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY. 335 And MURRAY sighs o'er Pope and Swift, And many a treasure more, The well-judg'd purchase, and the gift, That grac'd his letter'd 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. 10 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 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, The flow'rs are gone---but still we find The honey on his tongue. 10 THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED." THUS says the prophet of the Turk, There is a part in ev'ry swine No friend or follower of mine May taste, whate'er his inclination, From the whole hog to be debarr'd; 10 b It may be proper to inform the reader, that this piece has already appeared in print, having found it's way, though with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into the Leeds Journal, without the Author's privity. And set their wit at work to find What joint the prophet had in mind. These choose the back, the belly those; He meant not to forbid the head; While others at that doctrine rail, And piously prefer the tail. Thus, conscience freed from ev'ry clog, You laugh-'tis well-The tale applied We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting, and the chace. 20 30 Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'd, Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. 38 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON BULFINCH. YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red O share Maria's grief! Her fav'rite, even in his cage, (What will not hunger's cruel rage?) Assassin'd by a thief. |