Of wand'ring swain, the white-wing'd plover wheels Her sounding flight, and then directly on

In long excursion skims the level lawn,

To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck, hence,
O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste
The heath-hen flutters, pious fraud! to lead
The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray.

Be not the muse asham'd here to bemoan
Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant man
Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage
From liberty confin'd, and boundless air.
Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull,
Ragged, and all its bright'ning lustre lost;
Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes,
Which, clear and vig'rous, warbles from the beech.
O then, ye friends of love, and love-taught song,
Spare the soft tribes, this barb'rous art forbear;
If on your bosom innocence can win,

Music engage, or piety persuade.

But let not chief the nightingale lament
Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd
To brook the harsh confinement of the cage.
Oft, when returning with her loaded bill,

Th' astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest,
By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls;
Her pinions ruffle, and, low-drooping, scarce
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade;
Where, all abandon'd to despair, she sings
Her sorrows through the night; and on the bough
Sole-sitting, still at ev'ry dying fall

Takes up again her lamentable strain

Of winding woe; till wide around the woods
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.

But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, Ardent, disdain; and, weighing oft their wings, Demand the free possession of the sky:

This one glad office more, and then dissolves
Parental love at once, now needless grown.
Unlavish wisdom never works in vain.

'Tis on some ev'ning, sunny, grateful, mild,
When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods,
With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes
Visit the spacious heav'ns, and look abroad
On nature's common, far as they can see,

Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs

Dancing about, still at the giddy verge
Their resolution fails; their pinions still,
In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void
Trembling refuse: till down before them fly
The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command,
Or push them off. The surging air receives
Its plumy burden; and their self-taught wings
Winnow the waving element. On ground
Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Farther and farther on, the length'ning flight;
Till vanish'd ev'ry fear, and ev'ry pow'r
Rous'd into life and action, light in air

Th' acquitted parents see their soaring race,
And, once rejoicing, never know them more.
High from the summit of a craggy cliff,
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns
On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vig'rous young,
Strong pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire.
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own,

a The farthest of the western islands of Scotland.

He drives them from his fort, the tow'ring seat,
For ages, of his empire; which, in peace,
Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles.
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat,

Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks,
Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs,
In early spring, his airy city builds,

And ceaseless caws amusive; there, well-pleas'd,

I might the various polity survey

Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen

Calls all her chirping family around,

Fed and defended by the fearless cock;

Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond
The finely-checker'd duck before her train
Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle,
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh,
Loud-threat'ning, reddens; while the peacock
spreads

His ev'ry-colour'd glory to the sun,
And swims in radiant majesty along.

O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove
Flies thick in am'rous chace, and wanton rolls
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck.
While thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame,
And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins
The bull, deep-scorch'd, the raging passion feels.
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food,

Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom,
While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays
Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood
Dejected wanders, nor th' inticing bud
Crops, though it presses on his careless sense.
And oft, in jealous mad'ning fancy wrapt,
He seeks the fight; and, idly-butting, feigns
His rival gor'd in ev'ry knotty trunk.

Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins:
Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth,
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds,
And, groaning deep, th' impetuous battle mix: