ribe the mob."--
"Hoot awa, mon!" the loyal Scot replies,
"You'll lose your money, for we'll hong the spies:
"Fra justice now, my lad, ye shanna budge,
"Tho' ye've attack'd the justice and the judge."--
"Oh! hold him fast," says Paddy, "for I'll swear
"I saw the iron rails in Bloomsbury-square
"Burnt down to the ground, and heard the mob say,
"They'd burn down the Thames the very next day."
Tumult and riot thus on every side
Swept off fair order like the raging tide;
Law was no more, for, as the throng rush'd by,
"Woe to my Lord Chief Justice!" was the cry.
And he, rever'd by every muse so long,
Whom tuneful Pope immortaliz'd in song,
Than whom bright genius boasts no higher name,
Ev'n he could find no sanctuary in fame;
With brutal rage the Vandals all conspire,
And rolls of science in one blaze expire.
But England, like the lion, grows more fierce
As dangers multiply, and foes increase;
Her gen'rous sons, with Roman ardour warm,
In martial bands to shield their country arm,
And when we trembled for the city's fate,
Her youth stood forth the champions of the state;
Like brothers, leagu'd by nature's holy tie,
A parent land to save, or bravely die.
Did Britons thus, like brothers, always join,
In vain to crush them would the world combine;
Discord domestic would no more be known,
And brothers learn affection from the throne.
But know your Lecturer's awful hour is come
When you must bid him live, or seal his doom!
He knows 'tis hard a leader's post to fill
Of fame superior, and more ripen'd skill.
The blame will all be mine, if troops should fail,
Who'd lose their heads, but never could turn tail
Who no commander ever disobey'd,
Or overlook'd the signals which he made.
Under your auspices the field I take,
For a young general some allowance make;
But if disgracefully my army's led,
Let this court-martial then cashier my head.

ADDITIONAL LINES TO THE PROLOGUE,

Spoken At Newbury,

In Consequence Of Lady Craven Bespeaking The Lecture,

Who Had Published
Some Lines On Dreaming
She Saw Her Heart At Her Feet.

Written By Mr. Pratt.

'MIDST scenes like these, for so her lines impart,
The Queen of Benham lost that gem her heart;
Scar'd by the din, her bosom treasu