Aid the full concert, while the ftock-dove breathes
A melancholy murmur thro' the whole.
'Tis love creates their melody, and all This waste of mufic is the voice of Love; That even to birds and beafts the tender arts Of pleafing teaches: hence the gloffy kind Try every winning way inventive love Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates Pour forth their little fouls. Firft, wide around, With diftant awe, in airy rings they rove, Endeav'ring by a thousand tricks to catch The cunning, confcious, half-averted glance Of their regardless charmer. Should the feem Softening, the least approvance to bestow, Their colours burnish, and, by hope infpir'd, They brifk advance; then on a fudden ftruck, Retire diforder'd; then again approach, In fond rotation spread the spotted wing, And shiver every feather with desire.
Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods
They hafte away, all as their fancy leads,
Pleasure, or food, or fecret fafety prompts,
That Nature's great command may be obey'd ;
Nor all the fweet fenfations they perceive
Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly hedge
Neftling repair, and to the thicket fome;
Some to the rude protection of the thorn
Commit their feeble offspring: the cleft tree
Offers its kind concealment to a few,
Their food its infects, and its mofs their nefts:
Others apart, far in the graffy dale
Or roughening waste their humble texture weave:640
But most in woodland folitudes delight,
In unfrequented glooms or fhaggy banks,
Steep, and divided by a babbling brook,
Whofe murmurs foothe them all the live-long day,
When by kind duty fix'd. Among the roots
Of hazel, pendent o'er the plaintive stream,
They frame the first foundation of their domes,
Dry fprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid,
And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought
But reftlefs hurry thro' the busy air,
Beat by unnumber'd wings. The fwallow fweeps
The flimy pool, to build his hanging house
Intent: and often from the careless back
Of herds and flocks a thousand tugging bills
Pluck hair and wool; and oft', when unobferv'd, 655
Steal from the barn a straw; till foft and warm,
Clean and complete, their habitation grows.
As thus the patient dam affiduous fits,
Not to be tempted from her tender task,
Or by fharp hunger or by fmooth delight,
Tho' the whole loofened Spring around her blows,
Her fympathizing lover takes his ftand
High on th' opponent bank, and ceaseless fings
The tedious time away; or elfe fupplies
Her place a moment, while fhe fudden flits
To pick the fcanty meal. Th' appointed time
With pious toil fulfill'd, the callow young,
Warm'd and expanded into perfect life,
Their brittle bondage break, and come to light,
A helpless family, demanding food
670
With conftant clamour: O what paffions then,
What melting fentiments of kindly care,
On the new parents seize! Away they fly
Affectionate, and, undefiring, bear
The most delicious morfel to their young,
Which equally distributed, again
The fearch begins. Even fo a gentle pair,
By Fortune funk, but form'd of generous mould,
And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast,
In fome lone cott amid the distant woods,
Sustain❜d alone by providential Heaven,
Oft' as they weeping eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all.
Nor toil alone they scorn; exalting Love,
By the great Father of the Spring inspir'd,
Gives inftant courage to the fearful race,
And to the fimple art.
With ftealthy wing
Should fome rude foot their woody haunts moleft,
Amid a neighbouring bush they filent drop,
And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive 690
Th' unfeeling schoolboy. Hence around the head
Of wandering fwain the white-wing'd plover wheels
Her founding flight, and then directly on,
In long excurfion, fkims the level lawn
To tempt him from her neft. The wild-duck, hence,
O'er the rough mofs, and o'er the trackless wafte
The heath-hen, flutters; pious fraud! to lead
The hot-pursuing spaniel far aftray.
Be not the Muse afham'd here to bemoan Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage From liberty confin'd and boundless air. Dull are the pretty flaves, their plumage dull, Ragged, and all its brightening luftre loft; Nor is that fprightly wildnefs in their notes Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. O then, ye Friends of love and love-taught song, Spare the foft tribes! this barbarous art forbear! If on your bofom Innocence can win,
Music engage, or Piety perfuade.
But let not chief the nightingale lament
Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd
To brook the harsh confinement of the cage.
Oft' when, returning with her loaded bill,
Th' aftonifh'd mother finds a vacant neft,
By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provifion falls,
Her pinions ruffle, and, low-drooping, scarce
Can bear the mourner to the poplar fhade,
Where, all abandon'd to defpair fhe fings
Her forrows thro' the night, and on the bough
Sole fitting, ftill at every dying fall
Takes up again her lamentable ftrain
Of winding woe, till, wide around, the woods Sigh to her fong, and with her wail refound. 725
But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, Ardent, difdain, and, weighing oft' their wings, Demand the free poffeffion of the sky.
This one glad office more, and then diffolves
Parental love at once, now needlefs grown.
Unlavish Wifdom never works in vain,
'Tis on fome evening, funny, grateful, mild,
When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods,
With yellow luftre bright, that the new tribes
Vifit the fpacious heavens, and look abroad
On Nature's common, far as they can fee,
Or wing, their range and pafture. O'er the boughs
Dancing about, ftill at the giddy verge
Their refolution fails; their pinions still
In loose libration ftretch'd, to trust the void
Trembling refufe, till down before them fly
The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command,
Or push them off. The furging air receives
Its plumy burden, and their felf-taught wings
Winnow the waving clement. On ground
Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight,
Till vanish'd every feal, and every power
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