And with much twitter and much chatter
Began to agitate the matter.

At length a Bullfinch, who could boast
More years
and wisdom than the moft,
Entreated, opening wide his beak,
A moment's liberty to speak;
And, filence publicly enjoin'd,
Deliver'd briefly thus his mind:
My friends! be cautious how
ye treat
The subject upon which we meet;
I fear we shall have winter yet.

A Finch, whofe tongue knew no control,
With golden wing and fatin poll,

A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied:
Methinks the gentleman, quoth fhe,
Opposite in the apple tree,

By his good will would keep us fingle
Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Or (which is likelier to befall)

Till death exterminate us all..
I marry without more ado;

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.
Their fentiments fo well expreff'd

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
An afpect ftern on man's affairs,
Not altogether smiled on theirs.
The wind, of late breathed gently forth,
Now shifted east, and east by north;
Bare trees and fhrubs but ill, you know,
Could shelter them from rain or snow,
Stepping into their nefts, they paddled,
Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled:
Soon every father bird and mother

Grew quarrelfome, and peck'd each other,
Parted without the least regret,
Except that they had ever met,
And learn'd in future to be wiser,
Than to neglect a good adviser.

Moral.

Miffes! the tale that I relate

This leffon feems to carry-
Choose not alone a proper mate,

But

proper

time to marry.

THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY.

No Fable.

HE noon was fhady, and foft airs
Swept Oufe's filent tide,

When, 'fcaped from literary cares,
I wander'd on his fide.

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
With scarce a flower flight.

It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent furvey'd,
And one I wish'd my own.

With cane extended far I fought
To fteer it close to land;

But still the prize, though nearly caught,
Escaped my eager hand.

Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains

With fix'd confiderate face,

And puzzling fet his puppy brains
To comprehend the case.

But with a cherup clear and strong
Difperfing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and follow'd long
The windings of the stream.

* Sir Robert Gunning's daughters.

My ramble ended, I return'd;

Beau, trotting far before,

The floating wreath again difcern'd,
And plunging left the fhore.

I saw him with that lily cropp'd

Impatient fwim to meet

My quick approach, and foon he dropp'd
The treasure at my feet.

Charm'd with the fight, The world, I cried,

Shall hear of this thy deed:

My dog fhall mortify the pride
Of man's fuperior breed:

But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,

To show a love as prompt as thine
To Him who gives me all.

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 frowns of a sky fo fevere;
Such Mary's true love, that has lived
Through many a turbulent year.
The charms of the late-blowing rose
Seem'd graced with a livelier hue,
And the winter of forrow best shows
The truth of a friend fuch as you.

THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND

SENSITIVE PLANT.

N Oyfter, caft upon the fhore,

Was heard, though never heard before
Complaining in a speech well worded,

And worthy thus to be recorded:

Ah hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell
For ever in my native shell;

Ordain'd to move when others please,
Not for my own content or ease ;

VOL. I.