Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd Their beauties I intent survey'd, With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains With fix'd consid❜rate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains To comprehend the case. But with a cherup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd; Beau, trotting far before, The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. 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 To Him who gives me all. THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Ordain'd to move when others please, Now in the water and now out. "Twere better to be born a stone, I envy that unfeeling shrub, Was hurt, disgusted, mortified, 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, With curious touch examines me, If I can feel as well as he; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, In being touch'd, and crying-Don't! O'erheard and check'd this idle talk. And your fine sense, he said, and yours, Deserves not, if so soon offended, Much to be pitied or commended. You, in your grotto-work enclos'd, And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Should droop and wither where they grow, The noblest minds their virtue prove His censure reach'd them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking show'd he felt it. |