Ordained perhaps ere summer flies, Though black and foul before. Illustrious drop! and happy then Of all that ever past my pen, Phœbus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow, Give wit, that what is left may shine PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. A FABLE. I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau*, If birds confabulate or no; 'Tis clear that they were always able To hold discourse, at least, in fable; * It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses? A story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull. To forestal sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, And with much twitter and much chatter, At length a Bulfinch, who could boast My friends! be cautious how ye treat I fear we shall have winter yet. A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, With golden wing and satin poll, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied. Methinks the gentleman, quoth she, Opposite in the apple-tree, By his good will would keep us single Or (which is likelier to befall) Till death exterminate us all. My dear Dick Redcap, what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments so well expressed All paired, and each pair built a nest. } } Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chilled, their eggs were addled; Soon every father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and pecked each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had ever met, And learned in future to be wiser, INSTRUCTION. Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry- But proper time to marry. THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs Swept Ouse's silent tide, When, 'scaped from literary cares, My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs* adorned with every grace That spaniel found for me) Now wantoned lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse displayed Their beauties I intent surveyed, With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau marked my unsuccessful pains With fixt considerate face, And puzzling sat his puppy brains But with a chirrup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and followed long My ramble finished, I returned. The floating wreath again discerned, I saw him with that lily cropped My quick approach, and soon he dropped |