THE DO V

E S.

R

EAS'NING at every step he treads,

Man yet mistakes his way,

While meaner things whom inftinct leads

Are rarely known to stray,

2.

One filent eve I wander'd late,

And heard the voice of love,

The turtle thus addrefs'd her mate,

And footh'd the lift'ning dove.

3.

Our mutual bond of faith and truth,

No time fhall difengage,

Those bleffings of our early youth,

Shall cheer our latest age.

4.

While innocence without disguise,
And conftancy fincere,

Shall fill the circles of thofe eyes,

And mine can read them there,

5.

Thofe ills that wait on all below,

Shall ne'er be felt by me,

Or gently felt, and only fo,

As being fhared with thee.

6.

When light'nings flash among the trees, Or kites are hov'ring near,

I fear left thee alone they seize,

And know no other fear.

7.

'Tis then I feel myself a wife, And press thy wedded fide,

Resolv'd an union form'd for life,

Death never fhall divide.

8.

But oh! if fickle and unchafte.

(Forgive a tranfient thought)

Thou couldst become unkind at last,

And scorn thy prefent lot,

9.

No need of light'nings from on high,

Or kites with cruel beak,

Denied th' endearments of thine eye

This widow'd heart would break.

10.

Thus fang the sweet fequefter'd bird

Soft as the paffing wind,

And I recorded what I heard,

A leffon for mankind.

A

FABLE.

A raven while with glöffy breast,

Her new-laid eggs fhe fondly prefs'd;
And on her wicker-work high mounted
Her chickens prematurely counted,
(A fault philofophers might blame
If quite exempted from the fame)
Enjoy'd at cafe the genial day,
'Twas April as the bumkins fay,
The legiflature call'd it May.
But fuddenly a wind as high

As ever swept a winter sky,

Shook the young leaves about her ears,
And fill'd her with a thousand fears,

Left the rude blaft fhould fnap the bough,
And spread her golden hopes below.
But juft at eve the blowing weather,

And all her fears were hufh'd together:

And now, quoth poor unthinking Raph, 'Tis over, and the brood is fafe;

(For

(For ravens though as birds of omen,

They teach both conj'rers and old women

To tell us what is to befall,

Can't prophecy, themfelves, at all.)

The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, Who long had mark'd her airy lodge,]

And deftin'd all the treasure there

A gift to his expecting fair,

Clim'b like a fquirrel to his dray,

And bore the worthlefs prize away.

M ORA

'Tis providence alone fecures

L.

In every change, both mine and your's.

Safety confifts not in escape

From dangers of a frightful fhape,
An earthquake may be bid to spare
The man that's ftrangled by a hair.
Fate fteals along with filent tread,
Found oft'neft in what leaft we dread,
Frowns in the storm with angry brow;
But in the funfhine ftrikes the blow.