LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY. O'er Murray's loss the muses wept, Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept There Memory, like the bee that's fed The quintessence of all he read Had treasured up before. The lawless herd, with fury blind, The flowers are gone-but still we find 217 THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED. * It THUS says the prophet of the Turk, No friend or follower of mine 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. May taste, whate'er his inclination, What joint the prophet had in mind. He meant not to forbid the head; Thus, conscience freed from every 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; 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 chase. Reviled and loved, renounced 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 snout 'tis eaten. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH. YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red Her favourite, even in his cage, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blest, Well taught he all the sounds express'd The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole, With which Aurora decks the skies, Above, below, in all the house, No cat had leave to dwell; And Bully's cage supported stood Well latticed-but the grate, alas; But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure : A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long back'd, long tail'd, with whisker'd snout, And badger-colour'd hide. He, entering at the study door, Its ample area 'gan explore; And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Just then, by adverse fate impress'd, THROCK MORTON'S BULLFINCH. A rat fast clinging to the cage, For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensued ; 221 His teeth were strong, the cage was woodHe left poor Bully's beak. O had he made that too his prey; Might have repaid him well, I wote, Maria weeps the Muses mourn- The cruel death he died. |