THE FAITHFUL BIRD.

THE greenhouse is my summer seat;
My shrubs displaced from that retreat
Enjoyed the open air;

Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song
Had been their mutual solace long,

Lived happy prisoners there.

They sang, as blithe as finches sing
That flutter loose on golden wing,

And frolic where they list;
Strangers to liberty, 'tis true,
But that delight they never knew,
And therefore never missed.

But Nature works in every breast,
With force not easily suppressed;

And Dick felt some desires,
That, after many an effort vain,
Instructed him at length to gain
A pass between his wires.

The open windows seemed 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,
And chirp, and kiss, he seemed to say

You must not live alone

Nor would he quit that chosen stand
Till 1, with slow and cautious hand,
Returned him to his own.

O ye, who never taste the joys
Of Friendship, satisfied with noise,

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Fandango, ball, and rout!

Blush when I tell you how a bird
A prison with a friend preferred
To Liberty without.

PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.

A FABLE.

I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau

If birds confabulate or no;

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'Tis clear that they were always able

To hold discourse, at least in fable;

And e'en the child who knows no better,
Than to interpret by the letter

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A story of a cock and bull,

Must have a most uncommon skull.

It chanced then on a winter's day,

But warm, and bright, and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design

ΙΟ

To forestall sweet St. Valentine,

In many an orchard, copse, and grove,

Assembled on affairs of love,

And with much twitter, and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.

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At length a Bullfinch, who could boast

More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opening wide his beak,
A moment's liberty to speak;
And, silence publicly enjoined,
Delivered briefly thus his mind:

'My friends! be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet;

I fear we shall have winter yet.'

A Finch whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wing and satin poll,

A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied:

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'Methinks the gentleman,' quoth she, 'Opposite in the apple-tree,

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By his good will would keep us single,

Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Or (which is likelier to befall)

Till death exterminate us all.

I marry without more ado;

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My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?'

Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling,

Turning short round, strutting, and sideling,
Attested, glad, his approbation

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The leaves came on not quite so fast,

And Destiny, that sometimes bears
An aspect stern on man's affairs,
Not altogether smiled on theirs.
The wind, of late breathed gently forth,
Now shifted east, and east by north;
Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know,
Could shelter them from rain or snow,

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THE NEEDLESS ALARM.

A TALE.

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 may follow them through brake and brier,
Contusion hazarding of neck or spine,
Which rural gentlemen call sport divine,
A narrow brook, by rushy banks concealed,
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 shivered long ago,
And horrid brambles intertwine below;
A hollow scooped, I judge, in ancient time,
For baking earth, or burning rock to lime.

Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red,
With which the fieldfare, wintry guest, is fed;
Nor Autumn yet had brushed from every spray,
With her chill hand, the mellow leaves away;
But corn was housed, and beans were in the stack,
Now therefore issued forth the spotted pack,
With tails high mounted, ears hung low, and throats
With a whole gamut filled of heavenly notes,
For which, alas! my destiny severe,

Though ears she gave me two, gave me no ear.
The sun accomplishing his early march,

His lamp now planted on Heaven's topmost arch,

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When, exercise and air my only aim,

And heedless whither, to that field I came,

Ere yet with ruthless joy the happy hound

Told hill and dale that Reynard's track was found,

Or with the high-raised horn's melodious clang

All Kilwick and all Dinglederry rang.

Sheep grazed the field; some with soft bosom pressed The herb as soft, while nibbling strayed the rest; Nor noise was heard but of the hasty brook, Struggling, detained in many a petty nook. All seemed so peaceful, that from them conveyed, To me their peace by kind contagion spread.

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But when the huntsman, with distended cheek,
'Gan make his instrument of music speak,
And from within the wood that crash was heard,
Though not a hound from whom it burst appeared,
The sheep recumbent, and the sheep that grazed,
All huddling into phalanx, stood and gazed,

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Admiring, terrified, the novel strain,

Then coursed the field around, and coursed it round again;

But recollecting, with a sudden thought,

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That flight in circles urged advanced them nought,

They gathered close around the old pit's brink,

And thought again-but knew not what to think.
The man to solitude accustomed long,
Perceives in every thing that lives a tongue;
Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees
Have speech for him, and understood with ease;
After long drought, when rains abundant fall,
He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all;
Knows what the freshness of their hue implies,
How glad they catch the largess of the skies;
But, with precision nicer still, the mind

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He scans of every locomotive kind;

Birds of all feather, beasts of every name,

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That serve mankind, or shun them, wild or tame;

The looks and gestures of their griefs and fears
Have all articulation in his ears;

He spells them true by intuition's light,
And needs no glossary to set him right.

This truth premised was needful as a text,
To win due credence to what follows next.

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