When Freedom has been enjoyed, confinement is insupportable.

Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis,
Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!

ON A GOLDFINCH

STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.

J.

TIME was when I was free as air,

The thistles downy seed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;

I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,
My form genteel, my plumage gay,

My strains for ever new.

II.

But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
And form genteel were all in vain,

And of a transient date;

For, caught and cag'd, and starv'd to death,
In dying sighs my little breath,

Soon pass'd the wiry grate.

Thanks, gentle swain for all my woes,

And thanks for this effectual close

And cure of ev'ry ill!

More cruelty could none express;
And I, if you had shewn me less,
Had been your pris'ner still.

THE

PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE.

THE pine-apples, in tripple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And search'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry side,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied;

The folly of Men aspiring to forbidden joys.

But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light;
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I said, in thee I find,

The sin and madness of mankind,
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.
While Cynthio ogles as she passes

The nymph between two chariot glasses,

She is the pine-apple, and he

The silly unsuccessful bee.

The maid who views with pensive air

The show-glass fraught with glitt'ring ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets;
Like thine her appetite is keen,

But ah, the cruel glass between!

The folly of Men aspiring to forbidden joys.

Our dear delights are often such, Expos'd to view, but not to touch: The sight our foolish heart inflames, We long for pine-apples in frames: With hopeless wish one looks and lingers; One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers; But they whom truth and wisdom lead, Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. BOOK II. ODE X.

I.

RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,

So shalt thou live beyond the reach,

Of adverse fortune's pow'r;

Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep

Along the treach'rous shore,

The Middle State in Society, preferable to Riches.

II.

He, that holds fast the golden mean,

And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, Imbitt'ring all his state.

III.

The tallest pines feel most the pow'r
Of wint❜ry blasts; the loftiest tow'r
Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-cap'd eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

IV.

The well-inform'd philosopher,
Rejoices with an wholesome fear,

And hopes, in spite of pain;

If winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,

And nature laughs again.