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• When light'nings flash among the trees,

Or kites are hovering near, · • I fear lest thee alone they seize,

And know no other fear.

'Tis then I feel myself a wife,

. And press thy wedded side, * And hope a union form’d for life

* Death never may divide.

• But, oh! if fickle and unchaste,

(Forgive a transient thought) • Thou could become unkind at last,

And scorn thy present lot;. • No need of light’ning from on high,

. Or kites with cruel beak; · Denied th' endearments of thine eye,

"This widow'd heart would break.'

Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,

Soft as the passing wind, And I recorded what I heard,

A lesson for mankind,




: : By Cowper. A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long Had cheer'd the village with his song, Nor yet at eve' his 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 spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the Glow-Worm by his spark ; So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangu'd 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 song; · For 'twas the self-same Power divine • Taught you to sing, and me to shine; - That you with music, I with light, "Might beautify and cheer the night.'. .

The songster heard his short oration,
And warbling out his approbation,
Releas'd him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Their real interest to discern;
That brother should not war 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 Aies.' To



By Cowper., in The Pine-Apples, in triple row,' is ' Were basking hot, and all in blow; A Bee of most discerning tastes:'? " is Perceiv'd the fragrance as he passd.,'

On eager wing the spoiler came, . .
And search'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on every side,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied ;
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And pervious only to the light,
Thus, having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his flight another way.

Methinks,” I said, 'in thee I find • The sin and madness of mankind. * To joys forbidden man aspires, • Consumes his soul with vain desires; . Folly the spring of his pursuit, . And disappointment all the fruit, • While Cynthio ogles, as he 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, * Expos’d 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.'




By Comper.

8 Wood,

THERE is a field, thro' which I often pass,
Thick overspread with moss and silky grass,
Adjoining close to Kilwick's 'echoing wood,
Where oft the bitch-fox hides her hapless brood;
Reserv'd to solace many a neighb’ring 'Squire,
That he may follow them thro' brake and briar,
Contusion hazarding of neck or spine,
Which rural gentlemen call sport divine.
A narrow brook, by rushy banks conceal'd,
Runs in a bottom, and divides the field;
Oaks intersperse it, that had once a head,
But now wear crests of oven-wood instead;
And where the land slopes to its watery bourn,
Wide yawns a gulph beside a ragged thorn,
Bricks line the sides, but shiver'd long ago,
And horrid brambles intertwine below!
A hollow scoop'd, I judge in ancient time,
For baking earth, or burning rock to lime.

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