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240 THE MORALIZER CORRECTED.
Must be decided by the worth
THE FAITHFUL BIRD.
The greenhouse is my summer seat;
Enjoy'd the open air;
Lived happy prisoners there.
They sang as blithe as finches sing
And frolic where they list;
And therefore never miss'd.
But nature works in every breast,
And Dick felt some desires,
A pass between his wires.
The open windows seem'd to invite
But Tom was still confined;
To leave his friend behind.
So settling on his cage, by play,
You must not live alone—
Eeturn'd him to his own.
Oh ye, who never taste the joys
Fandango, ball, and rout!
To liberty without. VOL. II. 17
THE NEEDLESS ALARM.
There is a field, through which I often pass,
Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red, With which the fieldfare, wintry guest, is fed; Nor Autumn yet had brush'd from every spray, With her chill hand, the mellow leaves away; But corn was housed, and beans were in the stack, Now therefore issued forth the spotted pack,
With tails high mounted, ears hung low, and
throats With a whole gamut fill'd of heavenly notes, For which, alas! my destiny severe, Though ears she gave me two, gave me no ear.
The sun accomplishing his early march, His lamp now planted on Heaven's topmost arch, When, exercise and air my only aim, And heedless whither, to that field I came, Ere yet with ruthless joy the happy hound Told hill and dale that Reynard's track was found, Or with the high-raised horn's melodious clang All Kilwick1 and all Dinglederry1 rang.
Sheep grazed the field; some with soft bosom press'd The herb as soft, while nibbling stray'd the rest; Nor noise was heard but of the hasty brook, Struggling, detain'd in many a petty nook. All seem'd so peaceful, that, from them convey'd, To me their peace by kind contagion spread.
But when the huntsman, with distended cheek, 'Gan make his instrument of music speak, And from within the wood that crash was heard, Though not a hound from whom it burst appear'd, The sheep recumbent and the sheep that grazed, All huddling into phalanx, stood and gazed, Admiring, terrified, the novel strain, Then coursed the field around, and coursed it round again;
1 Two woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Esq.
But recollecting, with a sudden thought,
The man to solitude accustom'd long,
This truth premised was needful as a text, To win due credence to what follows next.
Awhile they mused; surveying every face, Thou hadst supposed them of superior race; Their periwigs of wool and fears combined, Stamp'd on each countenance such marks of mind, That sage they seem'd, as lawyers o'er a doubt, Which, puzzling long, at last they puzzle out; Or academic tutors, teaching youths, Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;