SONG.

THO' Fortune may boast at her shrine
That the world's adoration is paid,
No idol shall she be of mine:

No devotion I owe the blind jade:
Yet rich in affection I live,

For tell me what boon so divine

Has a world of luxuriance to give
As one smile, my dear Mary! of thine?

The glitt'ring distinctions of state
May the envy of sycophants move;
But who would forego, to be great,
Independance, contentment, and love?
Gems and ore do not fall to my share,
But what gem can such transport impart
As one glance of thy kindness, my Fair!
What mine's half so rich as thy heart?

With Fate let them quarrel that choose,
Chagrin shall ne'er furrow my brow,
To the pray'r of thy swain let the Muse,
Dear Maid! be propitious as Thou.

Then a truce with thy counsels, old Care,
Not a sigh at thy bidding I'll breathe:
For, though sombre the garb that I wear,
Yet light is my heart underneath.

A CRUST

FOR

A CONVEYANCER.

HEAR, with patient attention, a tragical tale,
Which will make our episcopal Synod turn pale,
Who from these simple stanzas--if ever they read 'em—
Will find that the lawyers must soon supersede 'em.
Derry down, &c.

For our Bishops so learn'd, and our Deans orthodox,
And Rectors take little account of their flocks,
But leave unconcern'd their lay-lambs in the lurch :—
So Conveyancers henceforth must govern the church.

The gods-Epicurus averr'd long ago

With indiff'rence beheld revolutions below;

They drank nectar and feasted, nor cared half-a-crown Though mankind, like the French, turn'd the globe upside

down:

Thus our gossips aver that their lordships in lawn

Have from things of this world their attention withdrawn, And, intent on the next, of each church leave the care

To Curates no better than him of Q****'s square.

And in truth to this Curate old Nick ow'd a grudge;
For-although in the pulpit as grave as a judge—
Yet folks, who his conduct have narrowly scann'd,
Say he did not put quite enough starch in his band.

That, besides, he'd imbib'd an heretical notion,

1

That "a Parson may laugh—till he's rais'd to promotion:"
Nay a joke had been heard at a vestry to crack,
And would dabble in rhyme though his coat it was black.

Some, who held themselves censors of no little note,
Said he'd preach better doctrine than-ever he wrote:
But, what's worst, in the service, no vacuum or gap,
No
pause he'd allow for-good Christians to nap.

Though they own'd, to atone for the last mention'd crime,
He'd engag'd an Assistant who read to slow time:
So, should slumber, in spite of his efforts, o'ertake 'em,
No danger there was that his colleague might wake 'em.-

Yet as if these high crimes were but slight pec

cadilloes

The parishioners rested at ease on their pillows,

Their pastors they follow'd, their puddings they ate 'em; And so they may still-would John H******y let 'em.

A Conveyancer he is employ him who list:
Forbidding his aspect, and close is his fist;

With more coin in his pocket than brains in his head,

Yet a book he has written that nobody read:

*The Life of Lord Mansfield.

"Sooner shall

"Great Mansfield fall by an attorney's hand.

"See a long law-life, in 4to. of the great Earl Mansfield, Lord Chief "Justice of the King's Bench, by Mr. Holliday, in a very peculiar "style indeed. For the greater part, it is a bundle of reports and law

pleadings strung together. It is astonishing to me that conveyancers " and attorneys, who really appear not to know how to construct a "single sentence without provoking a smile at some error in gram

mar, language, or metaphor, will think themselves qualified to "deliver down to posterity the lives of great men. Luckily Mr. "Holliday's zeal does not offend us in rhyme. The friendship and "the verse of Pope, as well as the splendour of his own abilities, " and the dignity of their high exertions, have secured an eternity of 66 reputation to Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, which can never fall, even by Mr. Holliday's attempt."-Pursuits of Literature, 7th edit. page 322.