ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON's BULFINCH. Ye nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless fav'rites shed, Her fav'rite, even in his cage, (What will not hunger's cruel rage?) Affaffin'd by a thief. Where Rhenus ftrays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blest, Well-taught, he all the founds express'd Of flagelet or flute. The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the fleekeft mole; His bofom of the hue With which Aurora decks the fkies, When piping winds fhall foon arife Above, below, in all the houfe, Dire foe, alike to bird and mouse, No cat had leave to dwell; And Bully's cage fupported stood, Large-built and lattic'd well. Well-lattic'd-but the grate, alas! Not rough with wire of steel or brass, For Bully's plumage fake, But fmooth with wands from Ouse's fide, With which, when neatly peel'd and dried, The fwains their baskets make. Night veil'd the pole. All feem'd fecure. When led by inftinct sharp and fure, Subfiftence to provide, A beaft forth-fallied on the scout, Long-back'd, long-tail'd, with whisker'd fnout, And badger-colour'd hide. He, ent'ring at the study-door, And fomething in the wind Conjectur'd, fniffing round and round, Juft then, by adverse fate impress'd, A rat, faft-clinging to the cage, And, fcreaming at the fad prefage, Awoke and found it true. For, aided both by ear and scent, Right to his mark the monster went Ah, Mufe! forbear to speak Minute the horrors that enfued; His teeth were strong, the cage was woodHe left poor Bully's beak. He left it but he should have ta'en That beak, whence iffued many a strain Might have repaid him well, I wote, Faft fet within his own. Maria weeps-The Mufes mourn So, when by Bacchanalians torn, On Thracian Hebrus' fide The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell; His head alone remain'd to tell THE ROSE. THE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower, Which Mary to Anna convey'd, The plentiful moisture incumber'd the flower, And weigh'd down its beautiful head. The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, And it seem'd to a fanciful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret, On the flourishing bush where it grew. I haftily feiz'd it, unfit as it was, Į snapp'd it, it fell to the ground. |