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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.

[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."]

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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 letter'd store.

Their pages mangled, burnt and torn,
The loss was his alone;

But ages yet to come shall mourn
The burning of his own.

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* 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
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.

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,
"Good Mussulman, abstain from pork;
There is a part in every 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.

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,
They might with safety eat the rest ;
But for one piece they thought it hard
From the whole hog to be debarr'd;
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 follow'd,
Thus bit by bit the world is swallow'd;
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.

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
Appear'd two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.

The Rose soon redden'd into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appeal'd to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.

The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower;

She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her power.

This civil bickering and debate
The goddess chanced to hear,
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
And, till a third surpasses you,
Let each be deem'd a queen.

Thus, sooth'd and reconciled, each seeks

The fairest British fair:

The seat of empire is her cheeks,
They reign united there.

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
Had cheer'd the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;

When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark;
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent,-
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
"As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song ;
For 'twas the selfsame Power divine
Taught you to sing and me to shine;
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night.”
The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else,
Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Their real interest to discern ;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other:
But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life's poor transient night is spent,
Respecting in each other's case

The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,

Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

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;

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