I once had a brother-he too was so kind,
Oh, none seemed so good as my own:
On the wide Indian sea, by a merciless wind,
He was shipwrecked; and I am alone.
Weep not, little child, for a friend is still near, Thy wishes and wants are all known, [hear, Thy Father in heaven each meek suppliant will Thou art poor-but thou art not alone.
THE CRICKET.
Little inmate, full of mirth,
Chirping on my kitchen hearth,
Wheresoe'er be thine abode,
Always harbinger of good;
Pay me for thy warm retreat,
With a song more soft than sweet;
In return, thou shalt receive
Such a strain as I can give.
Thus thy praise shall be exprest,
Inoffensive, welcome guest!
While the rat is on the scout,
And the mouse with curious snout,
With what vermin else infest
Every dish, and spoil the best,
Frisking thus before the fire,
Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
Though in voice and shape they be
Formed as if akin to thee,
Thou surpassest, happier far,
Happiest grasshoppers that are,
Theirs is but a summer's song,
Thine endures the winter long,
Unimpaired, and shrill, and clear,
Melody throughout the year.
Neither night nor dawn of day
Puts a period to thy play.
Sing then, and extend thy span
Far beyond the date of man;
Wretched man! whose years are spent
In repining discontent,
Lives not, aged though he be,
Half a span compared to thee.
Old John had an apple tree, healthy and green,
Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,
So juicy, so mellow, and red;
And when they were ripe he disposed of his store,
To children and any who passed by his door,
To buy him a morsel of bread.
Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might
With longing eye viewing this fine apple tree, [see,
And wishing a codlin might fall :
One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,
He began thinking whether he might not take one,
And then he looked over the wall.
And as he again cast his eye on the tree,
He said to himself, 'Oh, how nice they would be;
So cool and refreshing to-day!
The tree is so full; and I'll only take one,
And old John won't see, for he is not at home,
And nobody is in the way.'
But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,
Remember though John cannot see you just now,
And no one to chide you is nigh,
There is one, who by night, just as well as by day;
Can see all you do, and hear all you say,
From his glorious throne in the sky.
O then, little boy, come away from the tree,
Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:
'Twere better to starve than to steal; [look,
For the great God, who even through darkness can
Writes down every crime we commit in his book,
Nor forgets what we try to conceal.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Attendant on the spring!
Now heaven repairs thy vernal seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.
Soon as the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear :
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?
Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flowers,
When heaven is filled with music sweet
Of birds among the bowers.
The schoolboy wandering in the wood,
To pull the flowers so gay,
Doth start-thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay.
Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fly'st the vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,
Another spring to hail.
Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.
O! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make, with social wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.
THE MOUSE'S PETITION.
Found in a trap where he had been confined all night. O! hear a pensive prisoner's prayer,
For liberty that sighs;
And never let thine heart be shut
Against the wretch's cries!
For here forlorn and sad I sit
Within the wiry gate;
And tremble at the approaching morn
Which brings impending fate.
If e'er thy breast with freedom glowed
And spurned a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong oppressive force
A free-born mouse detain.
O! do not stain with guiltless blood
Thy hospitable hearth,
Nor triumph that thy wiles betrayed
A prize so little worth!
The scattered gleanings of a feast
My frugal means supply:
But if thine unrelenting heart
That slender boon deny.
The cheerful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of heaven.
The well-taught philosophic mind
To all compassion gives,
Casts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
THE NAUTILUS.
See the nicely fashioned boat
O'er the billowy waters float:
With quick oars dashing in the spray,
Her dextrous rowers cut their way;
Or with high mast and swelling sail,
Prepare to fly before the gale!
Within a large and curious shell
A little fish is found to dwell,
Who, like a mariner, has skill
To guide his little boat at will,
Unfurls the sail or strikes the oar,
Puts out to sea, or makes the shore.
He wants no tools, he needs no help,
His oars and sail are in himself!
His arms are oars which safely guide
His ship of shell upon the tide.
A curious membrane forms the sail,
With which he scuds before the gale.
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