Much wonder'd that the silly sheep had found MORAL. Beware of desp’rate steps. The darkest day (Left till to-morrow) will have pass'd away. THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABL E. The noon was shady, and soft airs Swept Ouse's silent tide, I 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; And one I wish'd my own. With cane extended far I sought To steer it close to land; Escap'd my eager hand. . p Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains With fixt consid'rate face, And puzzling sat his puppy brains To comprehend the case. But with a chirrup clear and strong, Dispersing all his dream, The windings of the stream. My ramble finish’d, I return'd. Beau trotting far before 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. |