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WHOE'ER, with curious eye, has rang'd
Repentant soon, th' offending race
To give them back the human face,
Jove, scoth'd at length, his ear inclin'd,
Scarce had the Thund'rer giv'n the nod
With haughtier air the creatures strode, And stretch'd their dwindled size.
The hair in curls luxuriant now
The tail that whilom hung below,
The head remains unchang'd within,
Thus half transform'd and half the same,
Man with contempt the brute survey'd,
Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.
To you, whose groves protect the feather'd quires,
'Twas gentle spring, when all the tuneful race,
And hearts and fortunes with her mate to join.
Through nature's spacious walks at large they rang'd,
'Till on a day to weighty cares resign'd,
All in a garden, on a currant bush,
With wond'rous art they built their waving seat:
Here blest with ease, and in each other blest,
And now what transport glow'd in either's eye!
But ah! what earthly happiness can last?
The most ungentle of his tribe was he;
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart: With concords faise, and hideous prosody
He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.
On barb'rous plunder bent, with savage eye
He mark'd where wrapt in down the younglings lay, Then rushing seiz'd the wretched family,
And bore them in his impious hands away.
But how shall I relate in numbers rude
The pangs for poor * Chrysomitris decreed! When from a neighb'ring spray aghast she view'd The savage ruffian's inauspicious deed!
So wrapt in grief some heart-struck matron stands, While horrid flames surround her children's room! On heav'n she calls, and wrings her trembling hands; Constrain'd to see, but not prevent their doom.
"O grief of griefs!" with shrieking voice she cry'd, "What sight is this that I have liv'd to see? "O that I had a maiden goldfinch dy'd,
"From love's false joys and bitter sorrows free!
"Was it for this, alas! with weary bill,
"Was it for this, I pois'd th' unwieldy straw? "For this I pick'd the moss from yonder hill? "Nor shunn'd the pond'rous chat along to draw?
"Was it for this, I cull'd the wool with care;
"And strove with all my skill our work to crown? "For this, with pain I bent the stubborn hair; "And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down?
"Was it for this, my freedom I resign'd;
"And ceas'd to rove from beauteous plain to plain? "For this, I sat at home whole days confin'd, "And bore the scorching heat and pealing rain?
"Was it for this, my watchful eyes grew dim?
* Chrysomitris it seems, is the name for a'goldfinch,
"O plunderer vile! O more than weezel fell!
"For thee may plum or goosb'ry never grow,
Thus sang the mournful bird her piteous tale,
An ODE on the HEAVENLY BODIES.
THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand,
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale,
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
What though, in solemn silence, all
An HYMN on GRATITUDE.
WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,
Transported with the view, I'm lost
O how shall words, with equal warmth,
That glows within my ravish'd heart?
To all my weak complaints and cries
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
When in the slipp'ry paths of youth
Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
And through the pleasing snares of vice,
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face;
And when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Reviv'd my soul with grace.