A lion, in a leopard's skin,
His fpots without, his heart within,
Held forth to privilege his paw,
And claim'd protection of the law.

Alarm'd, the foreft ftare awhile!
The affes bray! the foxes fmile!
And tygers tam'd, untry'd, condemn
Their brother brute too wild for them.
The fages of the law confult

The nature of his crimes occult,

While, wavering 'twixt the wrong and right,
They let him loofe, and hope his flight;,
"Till, bafely hurt in bloody fray,
To distant lands he's lur'd away.

Let juftice bring him now to shame
The abfent ever are to blame.
Accus'd he stands of horrid crimes,
Strange to thefe loyal, pious times!
Against his king---a bishop nods---
Nay, more, he scratch'd against the gods.
Behold the impious traitor's claw,
Known, and obnoxious to the law.

The lion heard, and, with disdain, Returning to his native plain,

Demands

Demands the records just and true,
The fine and punishment his due.
Appall'd deluded justice stands,
Her balance ttrembling in her hands,
Nor holds uprais'd th' avenging blade
Without the rancorous lynx's aid.

Again the fnare of power is fpread,
Inclofing his devoted head;
Again is urg'd the shame and fin
Of spots upon a leopard's skin;
When lo! he cafts his wanton fpoils,
And proves a lion in the toils.

HARRY AND NAN.

WRITTEN IN 1768.

AN ELEGY, IN THE MANNER OF TIBULLUS.

I..

CAN Apollo refift, or a poet refuse,

When Harry and Nancy folicit the Mufe?

A statesman, who makes the whole nation his care, And a nymph, who is almost as chaste as she's fair..

II.

Dear spousy had led fuch a damnable life,

He determin'd to keep any whore but his wife:
So Harry's affairs, like thofe of the state,
Have been pretty well handled and tickled of late.

From

Et nullam aliam ob gratiam de illo
bene merenti,

Nifi quòd ægroto in extremâ valetudine
affiduè affuit,

Atque in ipfius mortis articulo
Teftamentum fupremum
compofuit,

Edificium hoc ex lateribus conftru&tum,
· Viatorum admiratio,’
Vicinorum invidia,

Ut monumentum fidelis amicitiæ
Et domicilium fibimet ipfi accommodatum,
A poffeffore præfenti,

Attornato artis fuæ haud imperito,
Extremâ licet fenectute,
Erigitur.

Idus Jul. An. Sal. 1768.
Accede, viator, contemplare, et fi

poteris, imitare.

TO A

CERTAIN MAGISTARTE (RIGHT HON. T. HARLEY)

ON THE DEDICATION OF A TOWER TO HIM

IN THE ISLE OF THANET.

CURS'D by the friends of liberty restor'd,
By Tories prais'd, by Jacobites ador'd ;
What else remain'd to ftigmatize thy cause?
Nought-but expiring H-d's laft applause.

INSCRIP

INSCRIPTION FOR THE VILLA

OF A DECAYED STATESMAN ON THE SEA-COAST.

BY MR. GRAY

OLD and abandon'd by each venal friend,
Here Holland form'd the pious refolution,
To fmuggle fome few years, and strive to mend
A broken character, and conftitution.

On this congenial spot he fix'd his choice,
(Earl Goodwin trembled for his neighb'ring fand)
Here fea-gulls fcream, and cormorants rejoice,
And mariners, tho' fhipwreck'd, dread to land.

Here reigns the bluft'ring North, and blighting East;
No tree is heard to whisper, bird to fing;
Yet nature cannot furnish out the feast:

Art he invokes new horrors ftill to bring.

Now mould'ring fanes and battlements arife,
Arches, and turrets nodding to their fall;
Unpeopled palaces delude his eyes,

And mimic defolation covers all :

"Ah! (faid the fighing peer) had B**e been true, "Nor Shelburne's, Calcraft's, Rigby's friendship

vain,

"Far other scenes than these had crown'd our view, "And realiz'd the ruins that we feign.

Not printed in his works.

F

3

"Purg'd

Purg'd by the fword, and beautify'd by fire "Then had we feen proud London's hated walls; "Owls might have hooted in St. Peter's choir, "And Foxes ftunk, and litter'd in St. Paul's".

With a lick of court white-wash, and pious grimace,
A wooing he went, where three fifters of old
In harmless fociety guttle and fcold.

Lord! fifter, fays Phyfic to Law, I declare, Such a fheep-biting look, fuch a pick-pocket air! Not 1 for the Indies!-You know I'm no prudeBut his name is a fhame-and his eyes are fo lewd! Then he fhambles and ftraddles fo oddly-I fearNo-at our time of life 'twould be filly, my dear,

I don't know, fays Law, but methinks for his look, "Tis juft like the picture in Rochefter's book; Then his character, Phizzy -his morals-his lifeWhen fhe died, I can't tell-he once had a wife :They fay he's no Chriftian, loves drinking and whoring,

And all the town rings of his swearing and roaring,

And