Those ills that wait on all below, Shall ne'er be felt by me; Or, gently felt, and only so, As being shar'd with thee. When lightnings flash among the trees, I fear lest thee alone they seize, 'Tis then I feel myself a wife, But oh! if, fickle and unchaste, No need of lightnings from on high, Denied th' endearments of thine eye, Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird, And I recorded what I heard,— A lesson for mankind. COWPER. SECTION VII. The goldfinches. ALL in a garden, on a currant bush, Nor distant far, a woodlark's soft retreat. Here, blest with ease, and in each other blest, And now, what transport glow'd in either's eye! But ah! what earthly happiness can last? The most ungentle of his tribe was he; No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart : With concord false, and hideous prosody, He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part. On mischief bent, he mark'd with rav'nous eyes, Where, wrapt in down, the callow songsters lay; Then rushing, rudely, seiz'd the glitt'ring prize, And bore it in his impious hands away! But how shall I describe, in numbers rude, "O grief of griefs!" with shrieking voice she cried, "What sight is this that I have liv'd to see! O! that I had in youth's fair season died, Was it for this, alas! with weary bill, Was it for this I poiz'd th' unwieldy straw; For this I bore the moss from yonder hill, Nor shunn'd the pond'rous stick along to draw? Was it for this I pick'd the wool with care, For this, with pain, I bent the stubborn hair, Was it for this my freedom I resign'd, And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain; For this I sat at home whole days confin'd, To bear the scorching heat and pealing rain? Was it for this my watchful eyes grow dim? Thus sung the mournful bird her piteous tale ;- SECTION VIII. JAGO. The pet lamb. THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone, With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare; I watch'd them with delight; they were a lovely pair. And now with empty can, the maiden turn'd away, But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay. Towards the lamb she look'd; and from that shady place, I, unobserv'd, could see the workings of her face: "What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be: Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee? What is it thou wouldst seek? What's wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art: This grass is tender grass; these flow'rs they have no peers; And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears. |