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Behold! the marble I bufts turn pale,
At red’ning Lenox's sad wail !

The Il Faun no more his pipe shall play ; And see! the EAGLE's anger'd eye, Reproach the hungry passing by,

That robb’d him of his prey !

Soft sheds the moon her tranquil beam,

+ Where still the RICHMONDS live, Conversing lo! the Digbys seem,

The sons of honour grieve

Sure, founds of sad lament arise!
Peace !-'twas alone my echoed fighs.

What deep distress that aspect wears !
That

eye

which once outihone the day With frowns like mine, bright form! array

Mine, will I hide in tears.

THE

| The white busts in the hall.

§ A bust of one of the dukes of Richmond of a ruddy. complexion.

|| A figure of a piping Faun: his instrument is broke.

* The bird held by a Ganymede to the Eagle, was destroyed by the servants of the present tenant: this figure is como o panion to the Faun; and stands in the hall,

+ The painting gallery, adorned with the portrajts of the families of the Lenox's, Digby's, and Fox's.

| The mother of the present duke of Richmond, pora trayed in widow's weeds.

THE STATE SEM A N.

AN IRREGULAR ODE.

BUTE loves arbitrary rule,

A rule which plays the devil;
North, tho? his first and fav'rite tool's

A secondary evil.
GERMAINE t'atone for former crimes,

Roars out for blood and Naughter;
And whilst on these he rings the chimes,

Ne'er thinks of an hereafter. :

Rigby and WEYMOUTH, with French claret, Join in the chorus, “Let us war it,

" Tho' Britain be undone !" Whilft Jemmy TWITCHER cries huzzai! Then sings a catch, or mumbles W-Y,

Or maudlin bears his drum.

JENKINSON creeps a go-between,
A fhifter of each cab’net scene,

A puppet mov’d by wire ;
! A running footman to the thane,
To do all jobbs--or foul, or clean-

An ev'ry thing for hire.
Fain would I SUFFOLK's name rehearse,
SUFFOLK once sung in patriot verse,

But

But here my muse must end;
For Decius like, those paltry views,
Which kings to specious patriots use,

Bid him call Bute his friend.

In law, one JEFFERIES rules alone,
For B---, on his woolpack throne,

Is mockery and pretence ;
Jefferies, who gives his sense for law,
Then whip-behold he finds a flaw,

And gives his law for sense.
To these are joined some lesser hacks,
A kind of chorus to the packs,

Whose bus'ness 'tis to rattle ;
Day puffers at Great Britain's fale,
Who now will praise, or now will rail,

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 sense,

And without power enslave.
Shall free-born men, in humble awe,

Submit then to this shame?
Who from consent and custom draw,
The same right to be ruld by law,

Which kings pretend to reign.

JUPITER

Sawney---in right, pick out a flaw,
Scotch treach'ry graft on quibbling law,

Soul-.-Body---Conscience barter: ---Your morals plant in Britain's foil, The beauty of our fyftem spoil,

And boast your country's charter.

Ye fevers seize

you
mitred

corps, Who vote and thirst for human gore ;

---Tho' milk-white their attire, With zeal and blood their faces glow, .--As Mount Vesuvius clad in snow,

Yet vomits liquid fire.

My Wyndham spare, in bloom of youth
Endued with knowledge---genius---truth,

Fitted

propriety of this epithet, “ Among the great variety of animals in this country, one of the most remarkable is the Pe. rico Legere, or Nimble Peter, an ironical name given it on account of its extreme suggilhness and Noth.---Whenever he moves every tep is attended with such a plaintiff, and at the same time so disagreeable a cry as at once produces pity and disguft--- In this disagreeable cry confifts his whole defence, for he makes at every motion such howlings as are even insupportable to his pursuer, who foon quits him, and even Aies beyond the hearing of his horrid noise.”-..-.-N. B. A curious drawing of this emblematic animal may be seen in Capt. Phipps's celebrated voyage towards the North-Polco

Fitted for virtue's fhrine; ---O Jebb! appease the fever's strife, (Britain owes you her Gloster's life)

I'll fing your skill divine.

No more in festive mirth we fit,
Nor relish humour---wine or wit,

No joyous healths go round:
Of thee, my friend, alone we speak,
Whilft tears bedew each manly cheek,

And sadness spreads around.

For you soft beauty lifts the prayer,
To you---the timid blushing fair

Their tenderest wishes wing: ---For

you

Eliza tunes her voice, She'll make the vocal lyre rejoice,

To rapture wake the ftring.

O DE

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