Then shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how,) So his Lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY, BY THE MOB, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, 1780. [Written on the morning of the 22d June, 1780. Lord Mansfield's house was burnt on the night of the 8-9th, as we learn from the journal of Crabbe, the poet, then a nameless, almost houseless, wanderer in the streets of the metropolis, yet destined to divide with Cowper the honour of being England's domestic bard."] 66 So, then, the Vandals of our isle, And MURRAY sighs o'er Pope and Swift, The well judged purchase, and the gift, That graced his letter'd store. Their pages mangled, burnt and torn, But ages yet to come shall mourn 66 * There is a sly reserve" in this decision without the implication of absurdity, as most readers understand it: we instinctively close the eye on the approach of any object, and on putting on spectacles, people invariably look very grave, and shut both eyes. This the poet seems to have had in view, and has expressed with that admirable quaintness, which constitutes the essence of humour. ON THE SAME. WHEN wit and genius meet their doom 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 lawless herd, with fury blind, The flowers are gone—but still we find THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.* [The original order is retained in placing this poem, the date of which is not exactly fixed.] THUS says the prophet of the Turk, 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. — Author's note. Had he the sinful part express'd, What joint the prophet had in mind. By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head; 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 chase. Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd, With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, THE LILY AND THE ROSE. [The order adopted by Cowper has been retained here: the poem was first transcribed in a letter to Unwin, but without date, in which the author says, "No man, I believe, has less to do with ladies' cheeks than I have my mind was never in a more trifling butterfly humour than when I composed these verses."] THE nymph must lose her female friend, If more admired than she. But where will fierce contention end, If flowers can disagree? Within the garden's peaceful scene The Rose soon redden'd into rage, The Lily's height bespoke command, She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand, This civil bickering and debate Yours is, she said, the nobler hue, Thus, sooth'd and reconciled, each seeks The fairest British fair: The seat of empire is her cheeks, THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM. [Composed in February, 1780, and suggested by reading a philosophical essay in the Register on the food of the nightingale.] A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long When, looking eagerly around, That brother should not war with brother, The gifts of nature and of grace. Those Christians best deserve the name, Who studiously make peace their aim; ON A GOLDFINCH, STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE. [These lines refer to an incident which took place in the next house to the Poet's, in the summer of 1779, when they were written.] TIME was when I was free as air, The thistle's downy seed my fare, My drink the morning dew; |