And with much twitter and much chatter At length a Bullfinch, who could boast A Finch, whofe tongue knew no control, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried By his good will would keep us fingle Till death exterminate us all.. My dear Dick Redcap, what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, ftrutting, and fideling, Attefted, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. Influenced mightily the reft, All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite fo faft, 222 PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. And Destiny, that fometimes bears Grew quarrelfome, and peck'd each other, Moral. Miffes! the tale that I relate This leffon feems to carry- But proper time to marry. THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY. No Fable. HE noon was fhady, and foft airs When, 'fcaped from literary cares, My spaniel, prettiest of his race, And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with every grace That spaniel found for me,) Now wanton'd loft in flags and reeds, Now starting into fight, Pursued the fwallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I fought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains With fix'd confiderate face, And puzzling fet his puppy brains But with a cherup clear and strong I thence withdrew, and follow'd long * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. My ramble ended, I return'd; Beau, trotting far before, The floating wreath again difcern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd Impatient fwim to meet My quick approach, and foon he dropp'd Charm'd with the fight, The world, I cried, Shall hear of this thy deed: My dog fhall mortify the pride But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine THE WINTER NOSEGAY. HAT Nature, alas! has denied To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied, And winter is deck'd with a smile. See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that funny fhed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring Though abroad they are frozen and dead. 'Tis a bower of Arcadian fweets, Where Flora is ftill in her prime, A fortrefs to which fhe retreats From the cruel affaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bofom of May. See how they have fafely survived THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. N Oyfter, caft upon the fhore, Was heard, though never heard before And worthy thus to be recorded: Ah hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Ordain'd to move when others please, VOL. I. |