TO JOHN JOHNSON,

ON HIS PRESENTING ME WITH AN ANTIQUE BUST OF HOMER.

MAY, 1793.

KINSMAN beloved, and as a son, by me!
When I behold this fruit of thy regard,
The sculptured form of my old favourite bard,
I reverence feel for him, and love for thee.
Joy too and grief. Much joy that there should be
Wise men and learn'd, who grudge not to reward
With some applause my bold attempt and hard,
Which others scorn: critics by courtesy.
The grief is this, that sunk in Homer's mine,
I lose my precious years now soon to fail,
Handling his gold, which howsoe'er it shine,
Proves dross, when balanced in the Christian scale.
Be wiser thou;-like our forefather DONNE,
Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone.

TO A YOUNG FRIEND,

ON HIS ARRIVING AT CAMBRIDGE WET, WHEN NO RAIN
HAD FALLEN THERE.

MAY, 1793.

IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew he found,
While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around,
Might fitly represent the Church, endow'd
With heavenly gifts to heathens not allow'd;

In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high,
Thy locks were wet when others' locks were dry.
Heaven grant us half the omen,—may we see
Not drought on others, but much dew on thee!

A TALE.

JUNE, 1793.

IN Scotland's realm, where trees are few,

Nor even shrubs abound;

But where, however bleak the view,
Some better things are found;

For husband there and wife may boast
Their union undefiled,

And false ones are as rare almost
As hedge-rows in the wild;

In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare
The history chanced of late,-
This history of a wedded pair,
A chaffinch and his mate.

The spring drew near, each felt a breast
With genial instinct fill'd;

They pair'd, and would have built a nest,
But found not where to build.

The heaths uncover'd and the moors
Except with snow and sleet,
Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores

Could yield them no retreat.

Long time a breeding-place they sought,
Till both grew vex'd and tired;
At length a ship arriving brought
The good so long desired.

A ship? could such a restless thing
Afford them place of rest?

Or was the merchant charged to bring
The homeless birds a nest?

Hush!-silent hearers profit most,—
This racer of the sea

Proved kinder to them than the coast,
It served them with a tree.

But such a tree! 'twas shaven deal,
The tree they call a mast,
And had a hollow with a wheel

Through which the tackle pass'd.

Within that cavity aloft

Their roofless home they fix'd,
Form'd with materials neat and soft,
Bents, wool, and feathers mix'd.

Four ivory eggs soon pave its floor,
With russet specks bedight;
The vessel weighs, forsakes the shore,
And lessens to the sight.

The mother-bird is gone to sea,
As she had changed her kind;

No;-Soon as from ashore he saw
The winged mansion move,
He flew to reach it, by a law
Of never-failing love.

Then perching at his consort's side,
Was briskly borne along,
The billows and the blast defied,
And cheer'd her with a song.

The seaman with sincere delight
His feather'd shipmates eyes,
Scarce less exulting in the sight
Than when he tows a prize.

For seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so new
Each some approaching good divines,
And may his hopes be true!

Hail, honour'd land! a desert where
Not even birds can hide,

Yet parent of this loving pair
Whom nothing could divide.

And ye who, rather than resign
Your matrimonial plan,

Were not afraid to plough the brine

In company with man;

For whose lean country much disdain

We English often show,

Yet from a richer nothing gain

But wantonness and woe;

DEAR architect of fine CHATEAUX Worthier to stand for ever, if th Than any built of stone, or yet For back of royal elephant to bear O for permission from the skies to Much to my own, though little t With thee, (not subject to the j A partnership of literary ware!

This tale is founded on an article of author found in the Buckinghamshire June 1, 1793, in the following words.

"In a block, or pulley, near the head now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a eggs. The nest was built while the vess was followed hither by both birds. The sionally lowered for the inspection of t have not forsaken the nest. The cock he but seldom; while the hen never leaves scends to the hull for food."