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LONDON: A POEM, In Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal. By Mr. Samuel Johnson. — quis ineptae Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se? Juv. Tho' grief and fondness in my breast rebel, When injur'd THALES bids the town farewell, Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, I praise the hermit, but regret the friend, Who now resolves, from vice and LONDN far, To breathe in distant fields a purer air, And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, Give to St. David one true Briton more. For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land, Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand? There none are swept by sudden fate away, But all whom hunger spares, with age decay: Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire, And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, Here falling houses thunder on your head And here a female atheist talks you dead. While THALES waits the wherry that contains Of dissipated wealth the small remains, On Thames's banks, in silent thought . . .
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