28th.  The Wind S. dark & cloudy with a driveing moist mist in ye Morning, it blew fresh afterwards. & I raked some Hay– pd. Elizabeth Parry 2s. for 12 days she was here making me shirts & mending others 

To day I received the following Poem, written in imitation of the 3d Satire of Juvenall, upon these precious times under Walpole's ministry.

Here Malice, Rapine, Accident, conspire,

And now a Rabble rages, now a Fire:

Their Ambush here relentless Ruffian lay,

And here the fell Attorney prowls for prey;

Here falling houses thunder on your head,

And there [Johnson has 'here' sw] a Female Atheist talks you dead. —–

  Since worth, my Friend [Johnson has 'he cries' sw], in these degen'rate days,

Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise;

In these curs'd walls, devote to Vice and gain;

Since unrewarded Science toils in vain;

Since hopes but sooth to double my distress, [Johnson has 'hope' and 'sooths' sw]

And Every moment leaves my Little Less;

While yet my steady steps no staff sustains,

And life still Vig'rous revells in my Veins;

Grant me, kind Heaven, to find some happier place,

Where Honesty & Sense are no disgrace. ———

(6) Here let those reign, whom Pensions can incite

To vote a Patriot Black, a Courtier White;

Explain their Countrey's dear-bought Rights away,

And plead for Pirates in the face of Day;

With slavish Tenets taint our poison'd youth,

And lend a Lie the Confidence of truth.

(6) Cedamus Patria: vivant Arturius istic

Et Catulus: maneant qui nigrum in candida vertunt.

…    [the poetry consist of extracts, run together, from Samuel Johnson's 'London' which was written in 1738 sw]     THIS ENTRY CONTINUES WITH A SONG, WRITTEN OUT IN HANDWRITING WHICH APPEARS TO BE

THAT OF LEWIS MORRIS [see entries 1 and 12 July 1738 for comparison].