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In painted plumes superbly drest,
A native of the gorgeous east,
By many a billow tost;
Poll gains at length the British shore,
Part of the captain's precious store,
A present to his toast.
Belinda's maids are soon preferred
To teach him now and then a word,
As Poll can master it;
But 'tis her own important charge
To qualify him more at large,
And make him quite a wit.
Sweet Poll! his doating mistress cries,
Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies,
And calls aloud for sack.
She next instructs him in the kiss;
'Tis now a little one, like Miss:
And now a hearty smack.
And first he aims at what he hears; And listening close with both his ears', Just catches at the sound;
But soon articulates aloud,
Much to the amusement of the crowd,
And stuns the neighbours round.
A querulous old woman's voice
His humorous talent next employs,
He scolds and gives the lie.
And now he sings, and now is sick,
Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick,
Poor Poll is like to die!
Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare
To meet with such a well matched pair,,
The language and the tone,
Each character in every part
Sustained with so much grace and art,
And both in unison.
When children first begin to spell,
And stammer out a syllable,
We think them tedious creatures;
But difficulties soon abate,
When birds are to be taught to prate.
And women are the teachers.
Thracian parents, at his birth,
Mourn their babe with many a tearj
But with unassembled mirth,
Place him breathless on his bier.
Greece and Rome, with equal scorn,
"Oh the savages!" exclaim,
Whether they rejoice or mourn,
Well-entitled to the name!
But the cause of this concern
And this pleasure, would thty trace,
Even they might somewhat learn
From the savages of Thrace.
The primary Law of Nature.
Androcles, from his injured lord, in dread
Of instant death, to Lybia's desert fled;
Tired with his toilsome flight, and parched with heat,
He spied, at length, a cavern's cool retreat.
But scarce had given to rest his weary frame,
When, hugest of its kind, a lion came:
He roared approaching; but the savage din
To plaintive murmurs changed, arrived within>
Aud with expressive looks his lifted paw
Presenting, aid implored from whom he saw.
The fugitive, through terror at a stand,
Dared not awhile afford his trembling hand,
But bolder grown at length, inherent found
A pointed thorn, and drew it from the wound.
The cure was wrought; he wiped the sanious flood,
And firm and free from pain the lion stood.
Again he seeks the wilds, and day by day
Regales his inmate with the parted prey.
Jfor he disdains the dole, though unprepared,
Spread on the ground, and with a lion shared.
But thus to live—still lost, sequestered still—
Scarce seemed his lord's revenge an heavier ill.
Home, native home!—Oh might he but repair I—
He must, he will, though death attends him there.
He goes, and doomed to perish, on the sands
Of the full theatre unpitied stands!
When, lo 1 the self-same lion from his cage
Flies to devour him, famished into rage.
He flies, but viewing in his purposed prey
The man, his healer, pauses on his way,
And, softened by remembrance into sweet
And kind composure, crouches at his feet.
Mute with astonishment the assembly gaze;
But why, ye Romans? Whence your mute ama?p
All this is natural—Nature bade him rend
An enemy; she bids him spare a friend.
More ancient than the Art of Fruiting, and not to be found in any Catalogue.
There is a book, which we may call
(Its excellence is such)
Alone a library, though small; •
The ladies thumb it much.
Words none, things num'rous it contains:
And, things with words compared, Who needs be told, that has his brains,
Which merits most regard I
Ofttimes its leaves of scarlet hue
A golden edging boast;
And opened, it displays to view
Twelve pages at the most.
Nor name, nor title, stamped behind
Adorns its outer part;
But all within 'tis richly lined,
A magazine of art.
The whitest hands that secret hoard
Oft visit; and the fair