On the burning of Lord Mansfield's Library toge

ther with his MSS. by the Mob, in June 1780

On the fame

The Love of the World reproved; or Hypocrify

detected

318

319

320

On a Goldfinch ftarved to Death in a Cage

Horace, Bock the 2d, Ode the 10th

328

329

332

The Poet, the Oyster, and the Senfitive Plant

To the Rev. Mr. William Cawthorn Unwin

357

362

366

TABLE

TABLE TALK.

Si te fortè mee gravis uret farcina charte

Abjicito.

HOR. LIB. I. EPIST. 13.

OU told me, I remember, glory built
On selfish principles, is fhame and guilt;

The deeds that men admire as half divine,
Stark naught, because corrupt in their design.
Strange doctrine this! that without fcruple tears
The laurel that the very lightning fpares,

VOL. I.

B

Brings

Brings down the warrior's trophy to the duft,
And eats into his bloody fword like rust.

B. I grant, that men continuing what they are,
Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war.
And never meant the rule fhould be applied
To him that fights with justice on his side.
Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnaffian dews,
Reward his mem❜ry, dear to ev'ry muse,
Who, with a courage of unfhaken root,
In honour's field advancing his firm foot,
Plants it upon the line that juftice draws,
And will prevail or perish in her cause.
"Tis to the virtues of fuch men, man owes

His portion in the good that heav'n bestows,
And when recording history difplays

Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient days,
Tells of a few fout hearts that fought and dy'd
Where duty plac'd them, at their country's fide;
The man that is not mov'd with what he reads,

That takes not fire at their heroic deeds,

Unworthy

Unworthy of the bleffings of the brave,
Is bafe in kind and born to be a flave.
But let eternal infamy pursue

The wretch to nought but his ambition true,
Who, for the fake of filling with one blast
The post-horns of all Europe, lays her wafte.
Think yourself station'd on a tow'ring rock,
To fee a people scatter'd like a flock,

Some royal mastiff panting at their heels,
With all the favage thirft a tyger feels;
Then view him felf-proclaim'd in a gazette,
Chief monster that has plagu'd the nations yet,
The globe and fceptre in such hands misplac'd,
Thofe enfigns of dominion, how disgrac'd!
The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour,
And death's own fcythe would better speak his pow'r;
Then grace the boney phantom in their stead
With the king's fhoulder knot and gay cockade;

Clothe the twin brethren in each other's dress,

The fame their occupation and fuccefs.

A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man, Kings do but reafon on the felf fame plan,

Maintaining your's you cannot their's condemn,

Who think, or feem to think, man made for them.
B. Seldom, alas! the power of logic reigns
With much fufficiency in royal brains;

Such reas'ning falls like an inverted cone,
Wanting its proper base to stand upon.
Man made for kings! those optics are but dim
That tell you fo-fay rather, they for him.
That were indeed a king-enobling thought,
Could they, or would they, reafon as they ought.
The diadem, with mighty projects lin'd,

To catch renown by ruining mankind,

Is worth, with all its gold and glitt'ring ftore,
Just what the toy will fell for, and no more.
Oh! bright occafions of difpenfing good,
How feldom used, how little understood!
To pour in virtue's lap her juft reward,
Keep vice reftrain'd behind a double guard,

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