ON LORD THURLOW'S POEMS.
1
When Thurlow this damned nonsense sent,
(I hope I am not violent)
Nor men nor gods knew what he meant.
2
And since not even our Rogers' praise
To common sense his thoughts could raise—
Why would they let him print his lays?
3
[OMITTED]
4
[OMITTED]
5
To me, divine Apollo, grant—O!
Hermilda's first and second canto,
I'm fitting up a new portmanteau;
6
And thus to furnish decent lining,
My own and others' bays I'm twining,—
So, gentle Thurlow, throw me thine in.
June 2, 1813.
