So ftooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop; Hence jarring fectaries may learn, Their real int'reft to discern; That brother fhould not war with brother, And worry and devour each other, But fing and fhine by sweet confent, The gifts of nature and of grace. Thofe chriftians best deserve the name Who ftudiously make peace their aim; VOTU M. O matutini rores, auræque falubres, Graminei colles, et amænæ in vallibus umbræ ! Delicias, procul arte, procul formidine novi, Quam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea femper avebat, Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam, Tum Tum demùm exactis non infeliciter annis, Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut fub cespite condi! On a GOLDFINCH starved to Death in his Cage. I. TIME was when I was free as air, The thistles downy feed my fare, My drink the morning dew; I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray, My strains for ever new. II. But gawdy plumage, fprightly ftrain, And form genteel were all in vain And of a tranfient date, For caught and cag'd and starv'd to death, In dying fighs my little breath Soon pafs'd the wiry grate. Thanks, gentle fwain, for all my woes, And thanks for this effectual clofe And cure of ev'ry ill! More cruelty could none express, And I, if you had fhewn me lefs Had been your pris'ner ftill. The PINE APPLE and the BEE. THE pine apples in triple row, To ev'ry pane his trunk applied, But But ftill in vain, the frame was tight And only pervious to the light. Thus having wafted half the day, He trimm'd his flight another way. The fin and madness of mankind; To joys forbidden man afpires, Folly the fpring of his purfuit, And difappointment all the fruit. While Cynthio ogles as the paffes She is the pine apple, and he The filly unfuccefsful bee. The maid who views with penfive air Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets, Like thine, her appetite is keen, But ah the cruel glass between! Our |