224.

THE DOG AND THE WATERLILY.

It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;

Their beauties I intent survey'd,

And one I wish'd my own.

With cane extended far I sought
To steer it close to land;

But still the prize, though nearly caught,
Escaped my eager hand,

Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains
With fix'd considerate face,
And puzzling set his puppy brains
To comprehend the case.

But with a cherup clear and strong,
Dispersing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and follow'd long
The windings of the stream.

My ramble ended, I return'd:
Beau, trotting far before,

The floating wreath again discern'd,
And plunging left the shore.

I saw him with that lily cropp'd
Impatient swim to meet

My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd

The treasure at my feet.

Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried,

Shall hear of this thy deed:

My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superior breed;

ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU.

But chief myself I will enjoin,

Awake at duty's call,

To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives me all.

ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU,
Killing a Young Bird.

1793.

A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you,
Well fed, and at his ease,
Should wiser be than to pursue
Each trifle that he sees.

But have kill'd a tiny bird,

you

Which flew not till to-day,
Against my orders, whom you heard
Forbidding you the prey.

Nor did you kill that you might eat
And ease a doggish pain,

For him, though chased with furious heat,
You left where he was slain.

Nor was he of the thievish sort,
Or one whom blood allures,
But innocent was all his sport
Whom you have torn for yours.

My dog! what remedy remains,
Since, teach you all I can,
I see you, after all my pains,
So much resemble Man?

225

BEAU'S REPLY.

SIR, when I flew to seize the bird
In spite of your command,
A louder voice than yours I heard,
And harder to withstand.

You cried-Forbear-but in my breast
A mightier cried-Proceed-
'Twas Nature, Sir, whose strong behest
Impell❜d me to the deed.

Yet much as Nature I respect,
I ventured once to break
(As you, perhaps, may recollect),
Her precept for your sake;

And when your linnet on a day,
Passing his prison door,

Had flutter'd all his strength away,
And, panting, press'd the floor,

Well knowing him a sacred thing,
Not destined to my tooth,
I only kiss'd his ruffled wing,
And lick'd the feathers smooth.

Let my obedience then excuse
My disobedience now,
Nor some reproof yourself refuse
From your aggrieved Bow-wow.

If killing birds be such a crime
(Which I can hardly see),

What think you, Sir, of killing Time, With verse address'd to me?

THE DOVES.

REASONING at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way,
While meaner things, whom instinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray.

One silent eve I wander'd late,
And heard the voice of love;
The turtle thus address'd her mate,
And sooth'd the listening dove;

Our mutual bond of faith and truth
No time shall disengage;
Those blessings of our early youth
Shall cheer our latest age:

While innocence without disguise,
And constancy sincere,

Shall fill the circles of those eyes,
And mine can read them there;

Those ills that wait on all below
Shall ne'er be felt by me,

Or gently felt, and only so,

As being shared with thee.

When lightnings flash among the trees,
Or kites are hovering near,

I fear lest thee alone they seize,

And know no other fear.

"Tis then I feel myself a wife,

And press thy wedded side,
Resolved a union form'd for life
Death never shall divide.

But oh! if, fickle and unchaste
(Forgive a transient thought),
Thou could become unkind at last,
And scorn thy present lot;

No need of lightning from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak;
Denied the' endearments of thine
This widow'd heart would break.

eye,

Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,
Soft as the passing wind,

And I recorded what I heard,
A lesson for mankind.

THE FAITHFUL BIRD.

THE greenhouse is my summer seat; My shrubs displaced from that retreat Enjoy'd the open air;

Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song
Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.

They sang as blithe as finches sing
That flutter loose on golden wing,
And frolic where they list;
Strangers to liberty, 'tis true,
But that delight they never knew,
And therefore never miss'd.