ON A GOLDFINCH,

STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE

1.

TIME was when I was free as air,
The thistle's downy seed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;
I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,
My form genteel, my plumage gay,
My strains for ever new.

II.

But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
And form genteel, were all in vain,

And of a transient date;

For caught, and cag'd, and starv'd to death,

In dying sighs my little breath

Soon pass'd the wiry grate.

III.

Thanks gentle swain, for all my woes,
And thanks for this effectual close

And cure of ev'ry ill!

More cruelty could none express;
And I, if you had shown me less,

Had been your pris'ner still.

THE

PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE.

THE pine-apples in triple row,
Were basking hot, and all in blow;
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd,
On cager wing the spoiler came,
And scarch'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry side,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied;
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light;
Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.

While Cynthio ogles, as she passes,

The nymph between two chariot glassos,
She is the pine-apple, and he

The silly unsuccessful bee.

The maid, who views with pensive air

The show-glass fraught with glitt'ring ware,

Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets;
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah the cruel glass between.

Our dear delights are often such,
Expos'd to view but not to touch;

The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine-apples in frames;
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers;
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE, BOOK II. ODE X.

I.

RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,

So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r;

Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treach'rous shore.

II.

He that holds fast the golden mean,

And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues, that haunt the rich man's door,

Imbitt'ring all his state.

III.

The tallest pine feels most the pow'r
Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower
Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

VOL. I.

19

IV.

The well-inform'd philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesome fear,

And hopes in spite of pain;
If winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And nature laughs again.

V.

What if thine Heav'n be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last;
Expect a brighter sky.

The God that strings the silver bow,
Awakes sometimes the muses too
And lays his arrows by.

VI.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvass in.

A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE

AND is this all? Can reason do no more,
'Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore,
Sweet moralist? afloat on life's rough sea,

The Christian has an art unknown to thee.
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where duty bids, he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,

And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all,

THE LILY AND THE ROSE.

1.

THE Nymph must lose her female friend,
If more admir'd than she-

But where will fierce contention end,
If flow'rs can disagree?

II.

Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appear'd two lovely foes,

Aspiring to the rank of queen,

The Lily and the Rose.

III.

The Rose soon redden'd into rage,
And swelling with disdain,

Appeal'd to many a poet's page,

The Lily's height bespoke command,

A fair imperial flow'r ;

She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her pow'r.

V.

This civil bick'ring and debate

The goddess chanc'd to hear,

And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre;
VI.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien :
And till a third surpasses you,
Let each be deem'd a queen