LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY. 319 A Mob is without Discretion. ON THE SAME. I. 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. II. 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. III. There mem'ry, like the bee that's fed From Flora's balmy store, The quintessence of all he read The lawless herd, with fury blind, Have done him cruel wrong, The flow'rs are gone-but still we find, The honey on his tongue. Mahomet's mystersous Charge, THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED, OR HYPOCRISY DETECTED*. THUS says the prophet of the Turk- There is a part in every swine May taste, whate'er his inclination, Such Mahomet's mysterious charge, 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 author's privity. in which Hypocrisy is Detected. Much controversy straight arose These choose the back, the belly those; By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head; While others at that doctrine rail, Thus, conscience freed from ev'ry 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, Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd ; Contention for Superiority, 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. THE LILY AND THE ROSE. I. THE nymph must lose her female friend, But where will fierce contention end, 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. between the Lily and the Rose. III. The Rose soon redden'd into rage, And, swelling with disdain, Appeal'd to many a poet's page IV. The Lily's height bespoke command A fair imperial flow'r; She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand, The sceptre of her pow'r. V. 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 VI. Your's is, she said, the nobler hue, And your's the statelier mien; And, till a third surpasses you, Let each be deem'd a queen. |