THE MORALIZER CORREСТЕР.
In hope to bask a little yet, Just reach'd it when the fun was set.
Your hermit, young and jovial firs! Learns something from whate'er occurs- And hence, he said, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits. His object chofen, wealth or fame, Or other fublunary game, Imagination to his view
Presents it deck'd with ev'ry hue That can feduce him not to spare His pow'rs of best exertion there, But youth, health, vigour, to expend On so defirable an end.
Ere long, approach life's evening shades, The glow that fancy gave it fades; And, earn'd too late, it wants the grace Which first engag'd him in the chase. True, answer'd an angelic guide,.
Attendant at the senior's fide- But whether all the time it cost To urge the fruitless chase be loft, Must be decided by the worth Of that which call'd his ardour forth. Trifles pursu'd, whate'er th' event, Must cause him shame or difcontent
A vicious object still is worse,
Successful there, he wins a curse; But he, whom ev'n in life's last stage Endeavours laudable engage,
Is paid, at least in peace of mind, And sense of having well design'd; And if, ere he attain his end, His fun precipitate descend, A brighter prize than that he meant Shall recompense his mere intent. No virtuous wish ean bear a date Either too early or too late.
THE green-house is my fummer seat; My shrubs displac'd from that retreat Enjoy'd the open air; Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song Had been their mutual folace long, Liv'd happy pris'ners there.
They fang, as blithe as finches fing That flutter loose on golden wing, And frolic where they lift; Strangers to liberty, 'tis true, But that delight they never knew, And, therefore, never miss'd.
But nature works in ev'ry breast; Instinct is never quite suppress'd;
And Dick felt fome defires, Which, after many an effort vain, Instructed him at length to gain
A pass between his wires.
The open windows seem'd to invite The freeman to a farewell flight;
But Tom was still confin'd; And Dick, although his way was clear, Was much too gen'rous and fincere To leave his friend behind.
For, settling on his grated roof, He chirp'd and kiss'd him, giving proof That he defir'd no more ;
Nor would forfake his cage at laft, 'Till gently seiz'd, I shut him faft, A pris'ner as before.
Oh ye, who never knew the joys Of Friendship, satisfied with hoise, Fandango, ball, and rout! Blush, when I tell you how a bird, A prison, with a friend, preferr'd To liberty without.
PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.
I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau *,
If birds confabulate or no;
'Tis clear that they were always able To hold discourse, at least, in fable; And ev'n the child, who knows no better, Than to interpret by the letter, A story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull.
It chanc'd then, on a winter's day, But warm and bright, and calm as May, The birds, conceiving a defign To forestal sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, Affembled on affairs of love, And with much twitter and much chatter, Began to agitate the matter.
* It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, Ithat all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the of his fenfes ?
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