XXII.

As luckless is the Virgin's lot,

Whom pleasure once mifguides: When hurried from the halcion cot, Where INNOCENCE prefides

XXIII.

The paffions, a relentless train!

To tear the victim run:

She feeks the paths of peace in vain,
Is conquer'd and undone.

XXIV.

How bright the little infects blaze,
Where willows fhade the way;
As proud as if their painted rays
Could emulate the Day!

XXV.

'Tis thus, the pigmy fons of pow'r
Advance their vain parade!
Thus, glitter in the darken'd hour,
And like the glow-worms fade!

XXVI.

The foft ferenity of night,

Ungentle clouds deform!

The filver hoft that shone so bright,

Is hid behind a storm!

XXVII.

The angry elements engage!
An oak, (an ivied bower!)
Repels the rough wind's noify rage,
And fhields me from the shower.

The

XXVIII.

The rancour, thus, of rushing fate,

I've learnt to render vain : For whilft Integrity's her feat, The foul will fit ferene.

XXIX.

A raven, from fome greedy vault,
Amidst that cloister'd gloom,
Bids me, and 'tis a folemn thought!
Reflect upon the tomb.

XXX.

The tomb!-The confecrated dome!
The temple rais'd to PEACE!
The port, that to its friendly home
Compels the human race!

XXXI.

Yon village, to the moral mind,

A folemn afpect wears;

Where fleep hath lull'd the labour'd hind,
And kill'd his daily cares:

XXXII.

'Tis but the church-yard of the Night;

An emblematic bed!

That offers to the mental fight,
The temporary dead.

XXXIII.

From hence, I'll penetrate, in thought,

The grave's unmeafur'd deep;
And tutor❜d, hence, be timely taught,
To meet my final sleep.

ཀ

'Tis peace

XXXIV.

(The little chaos paft!)

The gracious moon restor❜d!

A breeze fucceeds the frightful blaft,

That through the foreft roar'd!

XXXV.

The Nightingale, a welcome guest!
Renews her gentle strains;

And HOPE, (juft wand'ring from my breaft)
Her wonted feat regains.

Yes

XXXVI.

When yon lucid orb is dark,

And darting from on high;

My foul, a more celestial spark,

Shall keep her native sky.

XXXVII.

Fann'd by the light-the lenient breeze,

My limbs refreshment find; And moral rhapfodies, like these, Give vigour to the mind.

VOL. LXIX.

с

THE

THRUSH

THE

AND PY E:

A TALE.

C

ONCEAL'D within an hawthorn bush,
We're told, that an experienc'd Thrush
Instructed, in the prime of spring,
Many a neighbouring bird to fing.
She caroll'd, and her various fong
Gave leffons to the lift'ning throng:
But (the entangling boughs between)
Twas her delight to teach unfeen.

At length, the little wond'ring race
Would fee their fav'rite face to face;
They thought it hard to be deny'd,
And begg'd that she'd no longer hide.
O'er-modeft, worth's peculiar fault,
Another shade the tut'refs fought;
And loth to be too much admir'd,
In fecret from the bush retir'd.

An impudent, presuming Pye,

Malicious, ignorant, and fly,

Stole to the matron's vacant feat,

And in her arrogance elate,

Rufh'd forward-with- My friends, you fee "The mistress of the choir in me:

66

Here, be your due devotion paid, "I am the songstress of the shade."

A Linnet, that fat lift'ning nigh, Made the impoftor this reply: "I fancy, friend, that vulgar throats "Were never form'd for warbling notes: "But if these lessons came from you,

66

Repeat them in the public view;

"That your affertions may be clear,

"Let us behold as well as hear."

The length'ning fong, the foft'ning ftrain,
Our chatt'ring Pye attempts in vain,

For to the fool's eternal fhame,
All she could compass was a scream.

The birds, enrag'd, around her fly,

Nor shelter nor defence is nigh:

The caitiff wretch, diftrefs'd-forlorn!

On every fide is peck'd and torn! "Till for her vile, atrocious lies, Under their angry beaks fhe dies.