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BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY
TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS. BY THE MOX, IN THIS
MONTH OF JUNE, 1780.
So then—the Vandals of our islo,
Sworn foes to sense and law,
Than ever Roman saw!
And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
a treasure more,
That graced 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 doona
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 Memory, like the bee that's fed
From Flora's balmy store,
The lawless herd, with fury blind,
Have done him cruel wrong ;
The honey on his tongue.
THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.1
Thus says the prophet of the Turk,
swine No friend or follower of mine
i 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. VOL. I.
May taste, whate'er his inclination,
You laugh—'tis well—the tale applied
Each thinks his neighbour makes too free,
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY)
YE nymphs ! if e'er your eyes were red
O share Maria's grief !
Assassin'd by a thief.
Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
And, though by nature mute,
Of flagelet or flute.
The honours of his ebon poll
His bosom of the hue
To sweep away the dew.
Above, below, in all the house,
No cat had leave to dwell;
of smoothest shaven wood,
Well latticed—but the grate, alas;
For Bully's plumage sake,
The swains their baskets make.
Night veil'd the pole : all seem'd secure :
Subsistence to provide,
And badger-colour'd hide.
He, entering at the study door,
And something in the wind
Food chiefly for the mind.
Just then, by adverse fate impressid,