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A TALE (MF.RR1CK.J
WliOE'EH, with curious eye, has rang'd Through Ovid's tales, has seen
How Jove, incens'd, to monkies chang'd A tribe of worthless men.
Repentant soon, th' offending race
Jntreat the injur'd pow'r
And reason's aid restore.
Jove, sooth'd at length, his ear inclin'd,
But t'other half he bade the wind
Scarce had the Thund'rer giv'n the nod
With haughtier air the creatures strode,
The hair in curls luxuriant now
The head remains unchang'd within,
Nor alter'd much the face: It still retains its native grin,
And all its old grimace.
Thus half transform'd and half the same,
(Restoring them their ancient claim)
Man with contempt the brute survey'd,
Nor would a name bestow:
And cali'd the thing a Beau.
AN ELEGY. (JAGO.)
Ivirenuas didicUxejideliter artes
To you, whose groves protect the feather'd quires*
Who lend their artless notes a willing ear, To you, whom pity moves, and taste inspires,
The Doric strain belongs; O Shenstone, hear.
Twas gentle spring, when all the tuneful race,
A Goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,
Through nature's spacious walks at large they rang'd,
As chance or fancy led, the'r path they chang'd,
'Till on a day to weighty cafes resign'd,
With mutual choice, alternate, they agreed On rambling thoughts no more to turn their mind.
But settle soberly, and raise a breed.
All in a garden, on a currant bush,
With wond'rous art they built their waving seat: In the next orchard liv'd a friendly thrush*
Nor distant far, a woodlark's soft retreat.
Here blest with ease, and in each other blest,
Till time matur'd their bliss, and crown'd their nest
And now what transport glow'd in either's eye!
What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food! What joy each other's likeness to descry,
And future sonnets in the chirping brood!
But ah! what earthly happiness can last?
How does the fairest purpose often fail!
Their rising hopes, and leave, them both to wail. .
The most ungentle of his tribe was he;
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart: With concords false, 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,
But how shall I relate in numbers rude
The pangs for poor * Chrysomitris decreed!
When from a neighb'ring spray aghast she view'd
So wrapt in grief some heart.struck matron stands,
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, 1 sat at home whole days confin'd,
"And bore the scorching heat and pealing rain?
"Was it for this, my watchful eyes grew dim?
"The crimson roses on my cheek turn'd pale? *' Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim;
"And all my wonted spirits 'gin to fail.
• Clrjscmiiiis it tttms, iithtnami fir a'goldfinch'
"0 plunderer vile! O more than weezel fell!
"More treach'rous than the eat with prudish face! "More fierce than kites with whom the furies dwell!
"More pilf'ring than the cuckow's prowling race!
"For thee may plum or goosb'ry never grow, "No juicy currant cool thy clammy throat:
"But bloody birch-twigs work thee shameful woe,
Thus sang the mournful bird her piteous tale,
Then side by side they sought the distant vale,
An Ode on Hhe 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,
Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand,
An Hymn on Gratitude.
I. When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys;
In wonder, love, and praise:
The gratitude declare
But thou canst read it there.
And all my wants redrest, When in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
When in the slipp'ry paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
. It gently clear'd my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
And when in sins and sorrows sunk,