TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ.
"I hope," said I, "the villain I would kill,
Has slipp'd between the door and the door sill,
And if I make dispatch, and follow hard,
No doubt but I shall find him in the yard;" -
For long ere now it should have been rehearsed,
'Twas in the garden that I found him first.
Even there I found him, there the full grown cat,
His head, with velvet paw, did gently pat;
As curious as the kittens erst had been,
To learn what this phenomenon might mean.
Fill'd with heroic ardour at the sight,
And fearing every moment he would bite,
And rob our household of our only cat
That was of age to combat with a rat;
With outstrethed hoe I slew him at the door,
And taught him NEVER TO COME THERE no more.
TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. ESQ.
THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious, called
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall'd
From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wronged, the fetter-gall'd,
Fear not, lest labour such as thine be vain.
Thou hast achieved a part; hast gained the ear
Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause;
Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause
And weave delay, the better hour is near
That shall remunerate thy toils severe,
By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.
Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love
From all the just on earth, and all the bless'd above.
TO DIODATI, FROM THE ITALIAN.
CHARLES-and I say it wond'ring-thou must know
That I, who once assum'd a scornful air,
And scoff'd at Love, am fallen in his snare.
(Full many an upright man has fallen so)
Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow
Of golden locks, or damask cheek; more rare
The heartfelt beauties of my foreign fair;
A mien majestic, with dark brows, that show
The tranquil lustre of a lofty mind:
Words exquisite, of idioms more than one,
And song, whose fascinating power might bind,
And from her sphere draw down the lab'ring moon;
With such fire-darting eyes, that should I fill
My ears with wax, she would enchant me still.
DEAR architect of fine CHATEAUX in air,
Worthier to stand for ever, if they could,
Than any built of stone, or yet of wood,
For back of royal elephant to bear!
O for permission from the skies to share,
Much to my own, though little to thy good,
With thee (not subject to the jealous mood:)
A partnership of literary ware!
But I am bankrupt now; and doom'd henceforth
To drudge, in descant dry, on others' lays!
Bards, I acknowledge, of unequall'd worth!
But what is commentator's happiest praise?
That, he has furnish'd lights for other eyes,
Sat watchey, who need them, usc, and then despise..
THIS Tale is founded on an anecdote which the Author found in the Buckinghamshire Herald, for Saturday, June 1st, 1793, in the following words:
Glasgow, May 23. In a block or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a Chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the hen never leaves it, but when she descends to the hull for food.
In Scotland's realm, where trees are few,
Nor even shrubs abound;
But where, however bleak the view,
Some better things are found!
For husband there and wife may boast
Their union undefiled,
And false ones are as rare almost
As hedge-rows in the wild.
In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare,
The history chanced of late-
This history of a wedded pair,
A Chaffinch and his mate.
The spring drew near, each felt a breast
With genial instinct fill'd;
They pared and would have built a nest,
But found not where to build.
The heaths uncovered and the moors,
Except with snow and sleet,
Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores
Could yield them no retreat.
2 D
Long time a breeding-place they sought,
Till both grew vex'd and tired;
At length a ship arriving, brought
The good so long desired.
A ship!-could such a restless thing
Afford them place of rest?
Or was the merchant charged to bring
The homeless birds a nest?
Hush! silent hearers profit most-
This racer of the sea
Proved kinder to them than the coast,
It served them with a tree.
But such a tree! it was shaven deal,
The tree they call a mast,
And had a hollow with a wheel,
Through which the tackle pass'd.
Within that cavity aloft,
Their roofless home they fix'd; Form'd with materials neat and soft, Bents, wool, and feathers mixed.
Foar ivory eggs soon pave its floor,
With russet specks bedight,
The vessel weighs, forsakes the shore,
And lessens to the sight.
The mother bird is gone to sea,
As she had changed her kind;
But goes the male? Far wiser he,
Is doubtless left behind!
No-soon as from shore he saw
The winged mansion move,
He flew to reach it, by a law
Of never-failing love.
Then perching at his consort's side,
Was briskly borne along,
The billows and the blasts defied,
And cheerd her with a song.
The seamen with sincere delight,
Their feathered shipmates eyes,
Scarce less exulting in the sight
Than when he tows a prize.
For seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so now,
Each some approaching good divines,
And may his hopes be true!
Hail, honoured land! a desert where
Not even birds can hide,
Yet parent of this lovely pair,
Whom nothing could divide.
And ye who rather than resign
Your matrimonial plan,
Were not afraid to plough the brine
In company with man.
For whose lean country much disdain
We English often show,
Yet from a richer nothing gain
But wantonness and wo.
Be it your fortune year by year,
The same resource to prove,
And may you sometimes landing here
Instruct us how to love,
THE twentieth year is well nigh past,
Since first our sky was overcast,
Ah would that this might be the last!
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