Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast, And destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smil'd on theirs. The wind of late breath'd gently forth, Now shifted east, and east by north; Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Could shelter them from rain or snow. Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled ; Soon ev'ry father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had never met; And learn'd, in future, to be wiser Than to neglect a good adviser. MORAL. Misses the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry- THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs My spaniel, prettiest of his race, And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with ev'ry grace That spaniel found for me.) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains But with a chorup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd ; The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd, My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine, THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Complaining in a speech well worded. And worthy thus to be recorded Ah, hapless wretch condemned to dwell For ever in my native shell; Ordain'd to move when others please, I envy that unfeeling shrub, When, cry the botanists, and stare, To make them grow just where she chooses You that are but almost a fish, And when I bend, retire, and shrink, In being touch'd, and crying-Don't! And your fine sense, he said, and yours, Deserves not, if so soon offended, You, in your grotto work enclos'd, And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Should drop and wither where they grow, His censure reach'd them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking show'd he felt it. THE SHRUBBERY. WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION. I. OH happy shades-to me unblest! |