May taste, whate'er his inclination, He meant not to forbid the head; You laugh-'tis well-the tale applied May make you laugh on t'other side. Renounce the world-the preacher cries. We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; Can see no evil in a play; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting, and the chase. Reviled and loved, renounced and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a slice as well as he: With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH. E nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red O share Maria's grief! Her favourite, even in his cage, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he sprung; And, though by nature mute, Or only with a whistle blest, Well taught he all the sounds express'd The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole, With which Aurora decks the skies, Above, below, in all the house, On And Bully's cage supported stood props of smoothest shaven wood, Large built and latticed well. Well latticed-but the grate, alas; But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure: A beast forth sallied on the scout, He, entering at the study door, And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Just then, by adverse fate impress'd, THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH. In sleep he seem'd to view A rat fast clinging to the cage, For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensued; 221 His teeth were strong, the cage was woodHe left poor Bully's beak. O had he made that too his prey! Might have repaid him well, I wote, Maria weeps the Muses mourn— The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell, HE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a Which Mary to Anna convey'd, [shower, The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower, And weigh'd down its beautiful head. The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, To weep for the buds it had left, with regret, I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, |