Strahan, Tonson, Lintott of the times,
Patron and publisher of rhymes,
For thee the bard up Pindus climbs,
My Murray.
To thee, with hope and terror dumb,
The unpledged MS. authors come;
Thou printest all--and sellest some--
My Murray.
Upon thy table's baize so green
The last new _Quarterly_ is seen,--
But where is thy new Magazine,
My Murray?
Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine
The works thou deemest most divine--
The 'Art of Cookery', and mine,
My Murray.
Tours, Travels, Essays, too, I wist,
And Sermons, to thy mill bring grist;
And then thou hast the 'Navy List',
My Murray.
And heaven forbid I should conclude
Without 'the Board of Longitude',
Although this narrow paper would,
My Murray.