THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY.

NO FABLE.

THE noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,
When, 'cap'd from literary cares,
1 wander'd on his side.

My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
And high in pedigree.

(Two nymphs* adorn'd with ev'ry 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
With scarce a slower flight.

It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent survey'd,
And one I wish'd my own.

With cane extended far I sought
To steer it close to land;

* Sir Robert Gunning's daughters.

But still the prize, though nearly caught,
Escap'd my eager hand.

Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains

With fix'd consid❜rate face,

And puzzling set his puppy brains
To comprehend the case.

But with a cherup clear and strong,
Dispersing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and follow'd long
The windings of the stream.

My ramble ended, I return'd;
Beau, trotting far before,
The floating wreath again discern'd
And plunging left the shore.

I saw him with that lily cropp'd
Impatient swim to meet

My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd
The treasure at my feet.

Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried,

Shall hear of this thy deed:

My dog shall mortify the pride

Of man's superiour breed:

But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,

To show a love as prompt as thine
To Him who gives me all.

232 THE POET, THE OYSTER, &c.

If all the plants, that can be found
Embellishing the scene around,

Should droop and wither where they grow,
You would not feel at all-not you.
The noblest minds their virtue prove
By pity, sympathy, and love:
These, these are feelings truly fine,
And prove their owner half divine.

His censure reach'd them as he dealt it, ◆nd each by shrinking show'd he felt it.

THE SHRUBBERY.

WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.

I.

OH, happy shades-to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me!

How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree!

This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
Those alders quiv'ring to the breeze,
Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine,
And please, if any thing could please.
III.

But fix'd unalterable Care

Foregoes not what she feels within Shows the same sadness ev'ry where, And slights the season and the scene.

IV.

For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While Peace possess'd these silent bow'rs,

Her animating smile withdrawn,

Has lost its beauties and its pow'rs,

V.

The saint or moralist should tread
This moss-grown alley musing, slow;
They seek like me the secret shade,
But not like me to nourish wo!

VI.

Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste
Alike admonish not to roam;
These tell me of enjoyments past,

And those of sorrows yet to come.