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Unless the world were all prepar'd t'embrace
D Ε Α Τ Η
Mes. THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH.
Ye nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red
O share Maria's grief !
Assassin'd by a thief.
Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
And though by nature mute,
Of Aagelet or Aute.
The honours of his ebon poll
His bofom of the hue
To sweep up all the dew.
Above, below, in all the house,
No cat had leave to dwell;
Large.built and lattic'd well.
Well-lattic'd--but the grate, alas!
For Bully's plumage sake,
The swains their baskets make.
Night veil'd the pole. All feem'd secure.
Subsistence to provide,
And badger-colour'd hide.
He, ent’ring at the study-door,
And something in the wind
Food, chiefly, for the minde
Just then, by adverse fate impress’d,
In Neep he seem'd to view
Awoke and found it true.
For, aided both by ear and scent,
Ah, muse! forbear to speak
He left poor Bully's beak.
He left it but he should have ta’en
Of such melliAuous tone,
Fast fet within his own.
Maria weeps—The Muses mourn
On Thracian Hebrus' fide
The cruel death he died.
The rose had been waih’d, just walh'd in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna convey'd,
And weigh'd down its beautiful head.
'The cup was all fillid, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
On the fiourishing bush where it grew.
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground.
Some act by the delicate mind,
Already to sorrow resign'd.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloom'd with its owner a while, And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.