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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,
For thee I panted, thee I prized,
And shall I see thee start away,
WEAK and irresolute is man;
The bow well bent, and smart the spring,
But passion rudely snaps the string,
And it revives again.
Some foe to his upright intent
Finds out his weaker part;
Virtue engages his assent,
But pleasure wins his heart.
"Tis here the folly of the wise
Through all his art we view;
And, while his tongue the charge denies, His conscience owns it true.
Bound on a voyage of awful length,
But oars alone can ne'er prevail
To reach the distant coast;
The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.
THE MODERN PATRIOT.
REBELLION is my theme all day;
(As who knows but perhaps it may?)
Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
I always held them in the right,
When lawless mobs insult the court,
But oh! for him my fancy culls
Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears.
Such civil broils are my delight,
Though some folks can't endure them, Who say the mob are mad outright, And that a rope must cure them.
A rope! I wish we patriots had
Such strings for all who need 'em-
OBSERVING SOME NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE
THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.
OH, fond attempt to give a deathless lot
So when a child, as playful children use,
OF AN ADJUDGED CASE NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY
BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause
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 courtYour lordship observes they are made with a straddle 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,
Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how),
So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone,
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,
And Murray sighs o'er Pope and Swift,
Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn,
ON THE SAME.
WHEN wit and genius meet their doom
And bid us fear the same.
O'er Murray's loss the muses wept,
Yet bless'd the guardian care, that kept
His sacred head from harm.
There memory, like the bee, that's fed
The quintessence of all he read
Had treasured up before.