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But has he forgot it, or has he not known,
Here's his Majesty's health; if his course he can
Here's health to the king; to his queen more of
her dues ; To his poet more wit to display his best virtues ; To his council more wisdom (may Heaven foon
send it) And freedom to those who have hearts to defend ito
WRITTEN AT HOLLAND HOUSE, SEPTEMBER, 1776.
OFT to these walls the pilgrim grey,
With labour'd travel worn; Has hasten'd at the parting day,
And shelter'd till the morn.
The poor way farer, distant bound,
His feeble limbs less toil'd wou'd find ;
Yet-leave his soul behind.
No longer echoes round the hall
The strange romantic tale;
The laugh o'er riut-brown ale.
Hope droops! whilft o'er each gothic room,
And pity mourns the ruin'd seat ;
Here, fixes, her retreat.
Back fly reflection-truth severe !
Let fancy for a while,
To F WINNINGTON a smile.
it The busts of Lord Pembroke and Mr. Winnington, the minister, in the parlour; remarkable for such countenances,
Behold! the marble * busts turn pale,
The Faun no more his pipe shall play ;
That robb’d him of his prey !
Soft sheds the moon her tranquil beam,
* Where still the RICHMONDS live, Converfing lo! the Digbys seem,
The fons of honour grieve !
Sure, sounds of fad lament arife !
which once outfhone the day
Mine,--will I hide in tears,
# The white buits in the hall.
* A buft of one of the dukes of Richmond of a ruddy complexion.
I A figure of a piping Faun : his instrument is broke.
ll The bird held by a Ganymede to the Eagle, was destroyed by the servants of the present tenant : this figure is companion to the Faun, and stands in the hall.
* The paint rg gallery, adorned with the portraits of the families of the Lenox's, Digby's, and Fox's.
f The mother of the prefent Duke of Richmond, portrayed in widow's weeds.
THE ST A T E S M A N.
BUTE loves arbitrary rule,
A rule which plays the devil ;
A secondary evil,
GERMAIN ťatone for former crimes,
Roars out for blood and flaughter; And whilft on these he rings the chimes,
Ne'r thinks of an hereafter,
RIGBY and WEYMOUTH, with French claret,
66 Tho' Britain be undone !!)
Or maudlin beats his drum.
JENKINSON creeps a go-between,
A puppet mov'd by wire ;
Au ev'ry thing for hire.
Fain would I SUFFOLK's name rehearse,
But here my muse must end;
Bid him call Bute his friend.
In law, one JEFFERIES rules alone,
Is mockery and pretence ;
And gives his law for sense.
To these are join'd some lesser hacks,
Whose bus’ness 'tis to rattle ;
Or at the levee prattle.
Protect us mighty Providence !
What would these madmen have ? First they would rob us of our pence, Deceive us without common senfe,
And without power enflave.
Shall free-born men, in humble awe,
Submit then to this shame?
Which kings pretend to reign,