A union form'd as mine with thee,
Not rashly, nor in sport,
May be as fervent in degree,
And faithful in its sort,

And may as rich in comfort prove,
As that of true fraternal love.

The bud inserted in the rind,
The bud of peach or rose,
Adorns, though differing in its kind,
The stock whereon it grows,
With flower as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produced by Nature there.

Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first essay,

Lest this should prove the last.
"Tis where it should be-in a plan
That holds in view the good of man.
The poet's lyre, to fix his fame,
Should be the poet's heart;
Affection lights a brighter flame
Than ever blazed by art.
No Muses on these lines attend,
I sink the poet in the friend.

TO A

YOUNG FRIEND,

ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET, WHEN NO
RAIN HAD FALLEN THERE.-1793.

IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew he found,
While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around,
Might fitly represent the Church, endow'd
With heavenly gifts, to Heathens not allow'd;

218

ON LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY.

In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high,
Thy locks were wet when others' locks were dry.
Heaven grant us half the omen-may we see
Not drought on others, but much dew on thee!

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 burn'd to dust a nobler pile
Than ever Roman saw!

And MURRAY sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
And many a treasure more,

The well-judged purchase and the gift,
That graced his letter'd store.

Their pages mangled, burn'd, 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 bless'd the guardian care that kept

His sacred head from harm.

There Memory, like the bee, that's fed

From Flora's balmy store,

The quintessence 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.

ON THE

PROMOTION OF EDWARD THURLOW, Esq.

TO THE

LORD HIGH CHANCELLORSHIP OF ENGLAND.

ROUND Thurlow's head in early youth,

And in his sportive days,
Fair Science pour'd the light of truth,
And Genius shed his rays.

See! with united wonder cried
The' experienced and the sage,
Ambition in a boy supplied

With all the skill of age!

Discernment, eloquence, and grace
Proclaim him born to sway
The balance in the highest place,
And bear the palm away.

The praise bestow'd was just and wise;
He sprang impetuous forth,

Secure of conquest, where the prize
Attends superior worth.

So the best courser on the plain
Ere yet he starts is known,
And does but at the goal obtain
What all had deem'd his own.

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF

JOHN GILPIN ;

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FURTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN..

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band captain eke was he

Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
To-morrow is our wedding day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton
All in a chaise and pair.
My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride

On horseback after we.

He soon replied, I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.

I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go.

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish'd with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.
John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife;
O'erjoy'd was he to find,

That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allow'd

To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud:

So three doors off the chaise was stay'd,
Where they did all get in;

Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,

Were never folk so glad,

The stones did rattle underneath,

As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side

Seized fast the flowing mane,

And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;

For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he,
His journey to begin,

When, turning round his head, he saw

Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers,
Were suited to their mind,

When Betty screaming came down stairs,
The wine is left behind!