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Memorials of his dire success,
One nest alone the urchin spar'd,
Alas! unhappy flutt'ring things,
Poor victims ! their disastrous fates
A hungry Cat, who pass'd that way,
Feasted, and having done her task,
At length her half-shut eyes she closes,
Grimalkin just in time awoke
Suppress your rage, intemperate elf, * Or turn the vengeance on yourself! * Think, wretch, how many nests you plunder, * How many ties you rend asunder, • Without excuse, pretence, or plea, • From the mere love of cruelty! * True, on your victims I have fed, • But 'twas by nature's dictates led ; • Impell’d by hunger and by right,
To serve a craving appetite.'
..“THE FALCON AND THE HEN.': iti
THRO' pride of heart, or private grudge, ?'
A Falcon, by a farmer kept, As one day thro' his yard he stepp'd, 17.44.34, At a poor Hen began to scowl, And call’d her 'base ungrateful fowl!'.' • Ungrateful !' said the Hen, and why? • What act of that low kind do I ?' .;:1.11g • Many,' the Falcon quick replied, til
Nor pass they, Partlet, unespied. " • Much sure you unto mankind owe, ' ! • Who all that you can ask bestow; it!!! - Whate'er you eat, 'tis they provide, • And, for your ease, at night, beside, • A roost they give, in which you sleep, . And locks and bolts in safety keep
• From rav’ning Kite, fell bird of prey,
Forget these benefits, and run • Thro' wilds and brakes your friends to shun. * Not so, altho' by Nature wild, • Do I behave, bụt, ever mild, • Obedient to their arms I press, • Receive with pride each kind caress, • Feed from their hands, nor fear, if they, Or stroke my tail, or with me play.'
* True,' cried the Hen; ' but know you why, • Tho' you are safe, I ought to fly? • No Falcon, friend, you've seen as yet, . • Sit neatly truss'd upon a spit; • Roast, boil'd, or broild, as each likes best, • The white-legg'd pullet's daily dress’d. • Call you ungrateful my retreat • From those who feed me but to eat?'
THE CUCKOW TRAVELLER.
A Cuckow once, as Cuckows use,
Old England! Well, the land's a land ! . But, trust me, gentlemen, says he, • We passage fowl that cross the sea • Have vast advantages o'er you, 'Whose native woods are all you view. "The season past I took a jaunt * Among the isles of the Levant ; • Where, by the way, I took my dose • Of almonds and pistachios. • 'Twas then my whim some weeks to be • In that choice garden, Italy: • But, underneath the sky's expanse, • No climate like the south of France ! • You've often heard, and I declare, • That Ortolans are plenty there ;