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 poured 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 bestowed 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 deemed his own.

ODE TO PEACE.

Come, peace of mind, delightful guest!
Return and make thy downy nest

Once more in this sad heart:
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view,

We therefore need not part.

Where wilt thou dwell if not with me,
From avarice and ambition free,

And pleasure's fatal wiles?
For whom, alas ! dost thou prepare
The sweets that I was wont to share,

The banquet of thy smiles?

The great, the gay, shall they partake
The heaven that thou alone canst make;

And wilt thou quit the stream
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and'the sequestered shed,

To be a guest with them?

For thee I panted, thee I prized,
For thee I gladly sacrificed
Whate'er I loved before:

Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears.

Such civil broils are my delight,

Though some folks can't endure 'em,

Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure 'em.

A rope! I wish we patriots had

Such strings for all who need 'em,—

What ! hang a man for going mad?
Then farewell British freedom.

ON OBSERVING SOME NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE
RECORDED IN THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.

Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot,
To names ignoble, born to be forgot!
In vain recorded in historic page,
They court the notice of a future age,
Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land
Drop one by one from fame's neglecting hand,
Lethean gulfs receive them as they fall,
And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all.

So when a child, as playful children use,
Has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news,
The flame extinct, he views the roving fire,
There goes my lady, and there goes the squire;
There goes the parson, oh ! illustrious spark,
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.

REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE
NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;

The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So the Tongue was the Lawyer and argued the cause
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,

While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,

That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

Then holding the spectacles up to the court,—

Your lordship observes they arc made with a straddle, BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY. 319

As wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
("Tis a case that has happened and may be again),

That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,

Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then?

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows
With a reasoning the court will never condemn,

That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them.

Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,

He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes,
But what were his arguments few people know,

For the court did not think they were equally wise.

So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,

Decisive and clear, without one if or but,— That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,

By daylight or candlelight—Eyes should be shut.

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 burnt 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 lettered 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.

O'er Murray's Joss the Muses wept,

They felt the rude alarm,
Yet blessed the guardian care that kept

His sacred head from harm.

320 THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED.

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.

THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.

Thus says the prophet of the Turk;
Good mussulman, abstain from pork!
There is a part in ever)' swine
No friend or follower of mine
May taste, whate'er his inclination,
On pain of excommunication.
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge,
And thus he left the point at large.
Had he the sinful part expressed,
They might with safety eat the rest;
But for one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarred,
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.

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,
And piously prefer the tail.
Thus, conscience freed from every clog,
Mahometans eat up the hog.

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 followed,
Thus bit by bit the world is swallowed;
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.