Well-latic'd-but the grate, alas!

Not rough with wire of fteel or brafs,
For Bully's plumage fake,

But smooth with wands from Ouse's fide,
With which, when neatly peel'd and dried,
The fwains their baskets make.

Night veil'd the pole. All feem'd secure
When led by instinct sharp and fure,
Subfiftence to provide,

A beast forth-fallied on the scout,
Long-back'd, long-tail'd, with whisker'd fnout,
And badger-colour'd hide..

For, aided both by ear and scent,
Right to his mark the monster went-
Ah, Mufe! forbear to speak

Minute the horrors that enfued ;

His teeth were ftrong, the cage was wood→→→

He left poor Bully's beak.

18

He left it but he should have ta'en

That beak, whence issued many a ftrain
Of fuch mellifluous tone,

Might have repaid him well, I wote,
For filencing so sweet a throat,
Faft fet within his own.

Maria weeps-The Mufes mourn—
So, when by Bacchanalians torn,
On Thracian Hebrus' fide
The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell;
His head alone remain'd to tell
The cruel death he died.

THE EN B

COWPER.