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But such a tree ! 'twas shaven deal,
The tree they call a mast ; And had a hollow with a wheel,
Through which the tackle pass'd.
Within that cavity aloft
Their roofless home they fixt ; Form'd with materials neat and soft,
Bents, wool, and feathers mixt.
Four ivory eggs soon pave its floor,
With russet specks bedight :The vessel weighs-forsakes the shore,
And lessens to the sight.
The mother bird is gone to sea,
As she had chang'd her kind ; But goes the mate? Far wiser he
Is doubtless left behind.
No!-Soon as from ashore he saw
The winged mansion move ;
Of never-failing love !
Was briskly borne along ;
And cheer'd her with a gong.
The seaman, with sincere delight,
His feather'd shipmate eyes, Scarce less exulting in the sight,
Than when he tows a prize.
for seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so new
And may his hopes be true!
Hail! honour'd land ! a desert, where
Not even birds can hide ; Yet parent of this loving pair,
Whom nothing could divide.
And ye, who rather than resign
Your matrimonial plan,
In company with man.
To whose lean country, much disdain
We English often show; Yet from a richer, nothing gain
But wantonness and wo.
Be it your fortune, year by year,
The same resource to prove ; And may ye, sometimes landing here,
Instruct us how to love !
THE FOUR AGES.
PA BRIEF FRAGMENT OF AN EXTENSIVE PROJEC
“I COULD be well content, allow'd the use Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd
From worn-out follies, now acknowledg'd such,
Thus, while grey evening lull’d the wind, and callid
I heard, and acquiesc'd ; then to and fro
Knows he his origin can he ascend
toil'd T' unriddle, and have left them mysteries still.
It is an evil incident to man,
TO THE NIGHTINGALE,
Which the Author heard sing. on New-Year's
From yonder wither'd spray,
The melody of May.
Of such a favour shewn,
To witness it alone!
Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, to me
For that I also long
Though not like thee in song ?
Or sing'st thou rather under force
Of some divine command,
Of happier days at hand ?
And joyless year have I,
Beneath a wintry sky.
Who only need'st to sing,
And every season spring.
TO A YOUNG FRIEND,
On his arrival at Cambridge wet, when no rain
had fallen there. IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew he found, While moisture none refresh'd the herbs around, Might fitly represent the Church, endow'd With heavenly gifts, to heathens not allow'd; In pledge, perhaps, of favours from on high, Thy locks were wet, when other locks were dry. Heaven grant us half the omen ! may we see Not drought on others, but much dew on thee !