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The other was of gentler cast,
From all such frenzy clear,
And never proved severe.
The nymphs referr’d the cause,
And gave misplaced applause.
The flippant and the scold,
That failing left untold.
Or so resolved to err,-
They lavish'd all on her.
Their great Inspirer call,
To reprimand them all. “ Since thus ye have combined," he said,
“ My favourite nymph to slight, Adorning May, that peevish maid,
With June's undoubted right, “ The Minx shall, for your folly's sake,
Still prove herself a shrew, Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,
And pinch your noses blue."
THE MORALIZER CORRECTED.
A HERMIT, (or if 'chance
hold That title now too trite and old), A man, once young, who lived retired As hermit could have well desired, His hours of study closed at last, And finish'd his concise repast, Stoppled his cruise, replaced his book Within its customary nook, And, staff in hand, set forth to share The sober cordial of sweet air, Like Isaac, with a mind applied To serious thought at eveningtide. Autumnal rains had made it chill, And from the trees, that fringed his hill, Shades slanting at the close of day Chill’d more his else delightful way; Distant a little mile he spied A western bank's still sunny side, And right toward the favour'd place Proceeding with his nimblest pace, In hope to bask a little yet, Just reach'd it when the sun was set.
Your hermit, young and jovial sirs ! Learns something from whate'er occurs ;And hence, he said, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits. His object chosen, wealth or fame, Or other sublunary game,
Imagination to his view
of best exertion there,
True, answer'd an angelic guide, Attendant at the senior's side,– But whether all the time it cost, To urge the fruitless chase be lost, Must be decided by the worth Of that which call'd his ardour forth. Trifles pursued, whate'er the event, Must cause him shame or discontent; A vicious object still is worse, Successful there he wins a curse; But he, whom e'en in life's last stage Endeavours laudable engage, Is paid at least in peace of mind, And sense of having well design'd; And if, ere he attain his end, His sun precipitate descend, A brighter prize than that he meant Shall recompense his mere intent. No virtuous wish can bear a date Either too early or too late.
THE FAITHFUL BIRD.
The greenhouse is my summer seat; My shrubs displaced from that retreat
Enjoy'd the open air ; Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.
And frolic where they list;
And therefore never miss'd.
But nature works in every breast,
And Dick felt some desires,
between his wires.
windows seem'd to invite The freeman to a farewell flight;
But Tom was still confined ; And Dick, although his way was clear, Was much too generous and sincere
To leave his friend behind.
So settling on his cage, by play,
You must not live alone;
Return’d him to his own.
ye, who never taste the joys
Fandango, ball, and rout!
To liberty without.
THE NEEDLESS ALARM.
There is a field, through which I often pass, Thick overspread with moss and silky grass, Adjoining close to Kilwick's echoing wood, Where oft the bitch fox hides her hapless brood, Reserved to solace many a neighbouring squire, That he
follow them through brake and brier, Contusion hazarding of neck or spine, Which rural gentlemen call sport divine. A narrow brook, by rushy banks conceal’d, Runs in a bottom, and divides the field; Oaks intersperse it, that had once a head, But now wear crests of oven wood instead; And where the land slopes to its watery bourn Wide yawns a gulf beside a ragged thorn; Bricks line the sides, but shiver'd long ago, And horrid brambles intertwine below;