So ftooping 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 minstrelly,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to fpoil your fong,
For 'twas the felf-fame power divine,
Taught you to fing, and me to fhine,
That you with mufic, 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 fupper fomewhere else.

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,
Till life's poor tranfient night is spent,
Refpecting in each other's case

The gifts of nature and of grace.

Thofe chriftians best deserve the name

Who ftudiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

VOTU M.

O matutini rores, auræque falubres,
O nemora, et lætæ rivis felicibus herbæ,

Graminei colles, et amænæ in vallibus umbræ !
Fata modó dederint quas olim in rure paterno

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 form genteel, my plumage gay,

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,
Were basking hot and all in blow,
A bee of moft difcerning tafte
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pafs'd,
On eager wing the spoiler came,
And fearch'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry fide,

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.
Methinks, I faid, in thee I find

The fin and madness of mankind;

To joys forbidden man afpires,
Confumes his foul with vain defires;

Folly the fpring of his purfuit,

And difappointment all the fruit.

While Cynthio ogles as the paffes
The nymph between two chariot glaffes,

She is the pine apple, and he

The filly unfuccefsful bee.

The maid who views with penfive air
The fhow-glafs fraught with glitt'ring ware,

Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But fighs at thought of empty pockets,

Like thine, her appetite is keen,

But ah the cruel glass between!

Our