Entreated, opening wide his beak, My friends! be cautious how ye treat I fear we shall have winter yet. A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried By his good will would keep us single Or (which is likelier to befall) Till death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado, My dear Dick Redcap, what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. Influenced mightily the rest, All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But, though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast, An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smiled on theirs. The wind, of late breathed gently forth, Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Misses MORAL. the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry- THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with every grace That spaniel found for me,) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains But with a cherup clear and strong I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd; The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried, But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives me all. THE WINTER NOSEGAY. WHAT Nature, alas! has denied And winter is deck'd with a smile. See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead. 'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived с |