WITH gallant pomp and beauteous pride
The floating pile in harbour rode;
Proud of her freight, the swelling tide
Reluctant left the vessel's side,
And rais'd it as it flow'd.
The waves, with eastern breezes curl'd,
Had silver'd half the liquid plain;
The anchors weigh'd, the sails unfurl'd,
Serenely mov'd the wooden world,
And stretch'd along the main.
SEE! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy! he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Ah! what avail his glossy varying dyes,
His purple crest, and scarlet circled-eyes;
The vivid green his shining plumes unfold;
His painted wings, and breast that shines with
gold?
120 The Linnet.-Fortitude.-A Simile.
IMPATIENT of his iron cage,
The linnet spends his little rage,
And 'scapes with shatter'd wings;
But soon with new-fledg'd pinions soars,
And, hastening to his native bowers,
A joyful welcome sings.
EMPIRE o'er the earth and main
Heav'n that gave can take again;
But a mind that's truly brave
Stands despising
Storms arising,
And can ne'er be made a slave.
So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs refines.
Till by degrees the floating mirror shines,
Reflects each flower that on the border grows,
And a new heav'n in its fair bosom shows.
WHEN the vocal cuckoo wings
To southern climes his way; When the swifts in giddy rings Their vent'rous flight essay; When the linnet droops forlorn Upon the naked spray;
Mute the blackbird on the thorn,
And lark that hails the day; Still the robin whistles clear,
And braves the fading year.
Other flutt'rers come and go,
The frolic train of spring;
Fearful, from the drifting snow
They urge their rapid wing.
Other warblers cease their strain
When storms forbid to roam,
But Robin then forsakes the plain,
And gives us songs at home:
Let the fickle sporters flee-
The Winter Friend for me!
SEE how the golden groves around me smile,
That shun the coast of Britain's stormy isle;
Or, when transplanted and preserv'd with care,
Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air!
Here kindly warmth their mounting juice
ferments
To nobler tastes and more exalted scents;
E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.
Bear me, some god, to Baia's gentle seats,
Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats;
Where western gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride :
⚫ Blossoms, and fruits, and flowers, together rise,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies.
How has kind heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heav'n and earth impart,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud oppression in her vallies reigns,
And tyranny usurps her happy plains?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
The redd'ning orange, and the swelling grain :
Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines;
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst,
And in the loaden vineyard dies of thirst.
IN vengeance rous'd, the soldier fills his hand
With sword and fire, and ravages the land.
A thousand villages to ashes turns,
In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns.
To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat,
And, mix'd with bellowing herds, confus'dly bleat;
Their trembling lords the common shade partake,
And cries of infants sound in ev'ry brake;
The list'ning soldier fix'd in sorrow stands,
Loth to obey his leader's stern commands;
The leader grieves, by gen'rous pity sway'd,
To see his stern commands so well obey'd.
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