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PHE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM. 251

I saw him both sicken and die,

And the moment the monster expired, Heard shouts, that ascended the sky,

From thousands with rapture inspired

Awaking, how could I but muse

At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news,

Which served my weak thought for a guideThat Britannia, renowned o'er the waves

For the hatred, she ever has shown, To the black-sceptered rulers of slaves,

Resolves to bare none of her own.

THE

NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long
Had cheered the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve hiş note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spięd far off, upon the ground,

252 TIR NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW.wotM.

A something sbining in the dark,
And knew the glow, worm by bis spark;
So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worn, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus, right eloquent

Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,
As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your songs
For 'twas the self same power divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
That you with musie, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night.
The songster beard his short oration,
And warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring soctaries may learn
Tlreir real interest to discern ;
That brother should not var with brother,
And worry and devour each other;
But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life's poor transient night is spent,
Respecting in each other's case
The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,
Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

ON A GOLDFINCH

STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.

I.
Time was when I was free as air,
The thistles downy secd my fare,

My drink the morning dew;
I perched at will on every 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 caged, and starved to death,
In dying sighs my little breath
Soon passed the wiry grate,

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

And cure of every ill!
More cruelty could none express;
And I, if you had shown me less,

Had been your prisoner 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
Perceived the fragrance as he passed,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And searched for crannies in the frame,
Urged his attempt on every side,
To every 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 trinamed his flight' another way.

Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumés 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 glasses,
She is the pine-apple, and he
The silly unsuccessful bee.
The maid, who views with pensive air
The show-glass fraught with glittering 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,
Exposed 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 the 2d. ODE the 10.

1.
Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's power;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treacherous shore.

II.
He, that holds fast the golden meatly
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,

Imbittering all his state.

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