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ON THE SAME.
WHEN wit and genius meet their doom
They tell us of the fate of Rome,
And bid us fear the same.
O'er MURRAY's loss the Muses wept,
Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept
There Memory, like the bee, that's fed
The quintessence of all he read
Had treasured up before.
The lawless herd, with fury blind,
The flowers are gone but still we find
THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED;
THUS says the prophet of the Turk,
And set their wit at work to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.
These choose the back, the belly those;
By some 'tis confidently said
He meant not to forbid the head;
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.
Thus, conscience freed from every 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;
Some love a concert, or a race;
And others shooting and the chace.
Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd,
With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,
ON THE DEATH
MRS. (now LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH.
YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
Her favourite, even in his cage,
Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
Or only with a whistle bless'd,
The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter than the sleekest mole;
With which Aurora decks the skies,
Above, below, in all the house,
Well-latticed-but the grate, alas!
But smooth with wands from Ouse's side,
LADY THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH. 177
A beast forth sallied on the scout,
And badger-colour'd hide.
He, entering at the study door,
And something in the wind
For, aided both by ear and scent,
His teeth were strong, the cage was wood-
O had he made that too his prey;
Of such mellifluous tone,
Might have repaid him well, I wote,
The cruel death he died.