So, stooping down from hawthorn top,

He thought to put him in his crop.

The worm, aware of his intent,

Harangu'd him thus, right eloquent

Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,
As much as I your minstrelsy,

You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;

For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night.
The songster heard his short oration,
And, warbling out his approbation,
Releas'd him, as my story tells,

And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring sectaries may learn

Their real int'rest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,

And worry and devour each other;

But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life's poor transient night is spent,
Respecting in each other's case

The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name

Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

VOTU M.

O MATUTINI rores, auræque salubres,
O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ,
Graminei colles, et amænæ in vallibus umbræ!
Fata modò dederint quas olim in rure paterno
Delicias, procul arte, procul formidine novi,
Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper

avebat,

Antelarem proprium placidam expectare senectam,

Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis,

Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!

ON A

GOLDFINCH

STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.

I.

TIME was when I was free as air,

The thistles downy seed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;

I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,

My form genteel, my plumage gay,

My strains for ever new.

II.

But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,

And form genteel, were all in vain,

And of a transient date;

For, caught and cag'd, and starv'd to death,

In dying sighs my little breath

Soon pass'd the wiry grate.

THE PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE.

343

III.

Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes,

And thanks for this effectual close

And cure of ev'ry ill!

More cruelty could none express;
And I, if you had shown me less,
Had been your pris'ner still.

THE

PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE.

THE pine-apples, in triple row,

Were basking hot, and all in blow;

A bee of most discerning taste

Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd,

On

eager wing the spoiler came,

And search'd for crannies in the frame,

Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry side,

To ev'ry pane his trunk applied;

But still in vain, the frame was tight,

And only pervious to the light;
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.

Methinks, I said, in thee I find

The sin and madness of mankind.

To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires;

Folly the spring of his pursuit,

And disappointment all the fruit.

While Cynthio ogles as she passes

The nymph between two chariot glasses,

She is the pine-apple, and he

The silly unsuccessful bee.

The maid, who views with pensive air The show-glass fraught with glitt'ring ware,

Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets, But sighs at thought of empty pockets;

Like thine, her appetite is keen,

But ah, the cruel glass between!