X Ordain'd, perhaps, ere summer flies, Illustrious drop! and happy then Phœbus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow, Give wit, that what is left may shine PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. A FABLE. I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,* 'Tis clear that they were always able A story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull. It chanced then, on a winter's day, To forestall sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses? And with much twitter and much chatter, At length a Bullfinch, who could boast My friends! be cautious how ye treat A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried By his good will would keep us single Till death exterminate us all. My dear Dick Redcap, what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation, Of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments so well express'd All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in haste, Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled; Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, MORAL. Misses! the tale that I relate THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs When, 'scaped from literary cares, My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with every grace That spaniel found for me,) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads With scarce a slower flight. * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains, But with a cherup 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, Shall hear of this thy deed: My dog shall mortify the pride But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Ordain'd to move when others please, I envy that unfeeling shrub, The plant he meant grew not far off, And with asperity replied. When, cry the botanists, and stare, Did plants call'd sensitive grow there? No matter when-a poet's muse is To make them grow just where she chooses. You that are but almost a fish, If I can feel as well as he; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, |