HUMAN FRAILTY.

WEAK and irresolute is man ;
The purpose of to-day;
Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent and smart the spring,
Vice seems already slain;
But Passion rudely snaps the string,
And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;

Virtue engages his assent,

But Pleasure wins his heart.

'Tis here the folly of the wise
Through all his art we view;
And, while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length,
And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail,
To reach the distant coast;

The breath of Heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.

THE MODERN PATRIOT.

REBELLION is my theme all day;
I only wish 'twould come

(As who knows but perhaps it may?)
A little nearer home.

Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t' other side th' Atlantic,
I always held them in the right,
But most so when most frantic.

When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport,
Who bravely breaks the most.

But O! for him my fancy culls
The choicest flowers she bears,

Who constitutionally pulls

Your house about your ears.

Such civil broils are my delight,
Though some folks can't endure them,
Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure them.

A rope! I wish we patriots had

Such strings for all who need 'emWhat! hang a man for going mad! Then farewell British freedom.

ON OBSERVING SOME

NAMES OF LITTLE NOTE

CORDED IN THE BIOGRAPHIA BRITANNICA.

ond attempt to give a deathless lot
mes ignoble, born to be forgot!
in, recorded in historic page,
court the notice of a future age:
e twinkling tiny lustres of the land
one by one from Fame's neglecting hand;
ean gulfs receive them as they fall,
dark oblivion soon absorbs them all.
when a child, as playful children use,
burnt to tinder a stale last year's news,
lame extinct, he views the roving fire-
e goes my lady, and there goes the squire,
e goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk!

REPORT

AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.

WEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, he spectacles set them unhappily wrong; point in dispute was, as all the world knows, o which the said spectacles ought to belong.

Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause Vith a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning;

While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws. So famed for his talent in nicely discerning

In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear, And your lordship, he said, will undo find,

That the Nose has had spectacles always in w Which amounts to possession time out of

Then holding the spectacles up to the courtYour lordship observes they are made straddle,

As wide as the ridge of the nose is; in short Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle

Again, would your lordship a moment suppos ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be That the visage or countenance had not a nose. Pray who would, or who could, wear spec then?

On the whole it appears, and my argument sh With a reasoning the court will never cond That the spectacles plainly were made for the And the Nose was as plainly intended for th

Then shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows ho He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes; But what were his arguments few people know For the court did not think they were wise.

So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn t Decisive and clear, without one if or butThat, whenever the Nose put his spectacles or By daylight or candlelight-Eyes should be s

ON THE BURNING OF

LORD MANSFIELD'S LIBRARY,

TOGETHER WITH HIS MSS.

By the Mob, in the Month of June, 1780.

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 lettered store.

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

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

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 blessed the guardian care that kept
His sacred head from harm.