THE ROBIN IN the field where the green 's mix'd with flowers, I love to admire a pleasant May morning, The air gliding by me enrich'd with perfume, Once, such a morn smiling, I hied me abroad, Ah! who could have thought that man had a passion, Which Eden once witness'd with sorrowful pause. H With those whose orisons pure were ascending, Praises as purely a Robin was blending, In sportive meanderings gliding around, Brushing hasty the dew off, then leaving the ground. So playfully sportive does innocence rove, But he met with his fate-the arrow of death Smote him-flutt'ring, striving, and panting for breath, Ah! instantly hush'd each melodious swell, Music sweetly begun to sad stillness fell. Fear started the songsters and scatter'd their flight; The orisons ceas'd-'twas silent as night, A plaintive complaining now sadden'd my ear, THE CONTRAST. VICE I have seen in hideous mein; And virtue too in beauty : 'Tis fairer than the damask rose ; 'Tis viler than where Lethe flows: 'Tis brighter than the morning star; 'Tis blacker than the brunt of war: Enriching as the milky dew; More baneful than the Upas true :* 'Tis charming as the month of May; Pleasant as Robins, and tender as doves : Darker than midnight and bitter it proves : * The Bohan Upas, a tree known (at least in fable) for slaying every animal that comes within a short distance of it. Lovely as summer and smiling as spring : Rougher than troubles which painfulness bring Mild as a lamb-light as a doe Stronger than tempests in scattering woe. The cushat mourns his partner gone, The monarch mourns his vanquish'd throne: The lark in lea proclaims its fears, Man for his first born mourns with tears. Come like a vision of the morn, Embodied and sincere ; Come wake my soul at early dawn, And shine at evining clear : Go like the demon of the storm, The dark avenger dire, Hide thee in malice's monster form, And be imprison'd there. THE CHRISTIAN AFFLICTED. GOD, on high, beholds the pious man ; He sees him buffet back the waves, And smiles upon him— Then with strength his own Hastens to rescue-sudden the billows cease, The tempest stills and airs of bliss flow round; The soul, rejoicing, rises in the calm, And, looking upward, sees its GOD its friend. |