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These, these are feelings truly fine,
And prove their owner half divine.

His censure reach'd them as he dealt it,
And each by shrinking show'd he felt it.


A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheer'd the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground, .
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glowworm by his spark;
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued 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 selfsame Power 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,

Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Their real interest 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.



The noon was shady, and soft airs

Swept Ouse's silent tide,
When, scaped from literary cares,

I wander'd on his side.

My spaniel, prettiest of his race,

And high in pedigree
(Two nymphs adorn’d with every grace

That spaniel found for me),
Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds,

Now starting into sight,
Pursued the swallow o'er the meads

With scarce a slower flight.

· It was the time when Ouse display'd

His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent survey'd,

And one I wish'd my own.

With cane extended far I sought

To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught,

Escaped my eager hand.

Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains

With fix'd considerate face,
And puzzling set his puppy brains

To comprehend the case.

But with a cherup clear and strong,

Dispersing all his dream,
I thence withdrew, and follow'd long

The windings of the stream.,

My ramble ended, I return’d:

Beau, trotting far before,
The floating wreath again discern’d,

And plunging left the shore.

I saw him with that lily cropp'd

Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd

The treasure at my feet.

Charm’d with the sight, the world, I cried,

Shall hear of this thy deed : My dog shall mortify the pride

Of man's superior breed;


But chief myself I will enjoin,

Awake at duty's call,
To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives me all.,


Killing a Young Bird.,

1793. A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you,

Well fed, and at his ease,
Should wiser be than to pursue

Each trifle that he sees.
But you have kill'd a tiny bird,

Which flew not till to-day,
Against my orders, whom you heard

Forbidding you the prey..
Nor did you kill that you might eat

And ease a doggish pain,
For him, though chased with furious heat,

You left where he was slain.
Nor was he of the thievish sort,

Or one whom blood allures, But innocent was all his sport

Whom you have torn for yours. My dog! what remedy remains,

Since, teach you all I can, I see you, after all my pains,

So much resemble Man?

• SIR, when I flew to seize the bird

In spite of your command,
A louder voice than yours I heard,

And harder to withstand.

You cried—Forbearbut in my breast

A mightier cried-Proceed'Twas Nature, Sir, whose strong behest

Impell’d me to the deed.
Yet much as Nature I respect,

I ventured once to break
(As you, perhaps, may recollect),

Her precept for your sake;
And when your linnet on a day,

Passing his prison door,
Had flutter'd all his strength away,

And, panting, press’d the floor,
Well knowing him a sacred thing,

Not destined to my tooth,
I only kiss'd his ruffled wing,

And lick'd the feathers smooth,
Let my obedience then excuse

My disobedience now,
Nor some reproof yourself refuse

From your aggrieved Bow-wow.
If killing birds be such a crime

(Which I can hardly see), What think you, Sir, of killing Time,

With verse address’d to me?

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