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AUTUMN OF 1793.
The twentieth year is well nigh pass’d,
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
Thy needles, once a shining store,
sake restless heretofore,
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
But well thou play’dst the housewife's part,
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,
For could I view nor them nor thee,
Partakers of thy sad decline,
Such feebleness of limbs thou provest,
And still to love, though press'd with ill,
But, ah! by constant heed I know,
future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn out heart will break at last,
MRS. THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH.
Ye nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless favourites shed,
O, share Maria's grief! Her favourite, even in his cage, (What will not hunger's cruel rage?)
Assassin'd by a thief.
Where Rhenus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he
sprung, And though by nature mute, Or only with a whistle bless’d, Well taught he all the sounds express'd
Of flagelet or flute.
The honours of his ebon poll
His bosom of the hue
To sweep away the dew.
Above, below, in all the house,
No cat had leave to dwell;
of smoothest-shaven wood,
238 ON THE DEATH OF A BULFINCH.
Well latticed—but the grate, alas !
For Bully's plumage sake,
The swains their baskets make.
Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure:
Subsistence to provide,
And badger-colour'd hide.
He entering at the study door,
And something in the wind
Food chiefly for the mind.
Just then, by adverse fate impress’d,
In sleep he seem'd to view
Awoke and found it true.
For, aided both by ear and scent,
Ah, Muse! forbear to speak
He left poor Bully's beak.
THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. 0, had he made that too his prey! That beak, whence issued many a lay
Of such mellifluous tone,
Fast stuck within his own.
On Thracian Hebrus' side The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell, His head alone remain’d to tell
The cruel death he died.
POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
To Mrs. Throckmorton.
MARIA! I have every good
For thee wish'd many a time,
But never yet in rhyme.
More prudent or more sprightly,
From temper-flaws unsightly.
Can I for thee require,
To thy whole heart's desire?