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A FABLE.

A RAVEN, while with gloffy breaft
Her new-laid eggs fhe fondly preffed,
And on her wicker-work high mounted,
Her chickens prematurely counted,
(A fault philofophers might blame
If quite exempted from the fame)
Enjoyed at ease the genial day;
'Twas April as the bumpkins fay,
The legiflature called it May.
Eut fuddenly a wind as high,
As ever swept a winter sky,

Shook the young leaves about her ears,
And filled her with a thousand fears,
Left the rude blast should snap the bough,
And spread her golden hopes below.
But juft at cve the blowing weather,
And all her fears were hufhed together:
And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph,
'Tis over, and the brood is fafe;

(For ravens, though as birds of omen

They teach both conjurers and old women

To tell us what is to befall,

Can't prophefy themselves at all.)

The morning came, when neighbour Hodge,

Who long had marked her airy lodge,

And deftined all the treasure there

A gift to his expecting fair,
Climbed like a squirrel to his dray,
And bore the worthless prize away.

MORAL.

'Tis Providence alone fecures

In every change both mine and your's:
Safety confifts not in escape

From dangers of a frightful shape;
An earthquake may be bid to spare
The man, that's ftrangled by a hair.
Fate fteals along with filent tread,
Found ofteneft in what least we dread,
Frowns in the ftorm with angry brow,
But in the funshine ftrikes the blow.

A COMPARISON.

THE lapfe of time and rivers is the fame,
Both fpeed their journey with a restless stream;
The fileut pace, with which they steal away,
No wealth can bribe, no prayers perfuade to ftay;
Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean fwallows both at laft.
Though each resemble each in every part,

A difference ftrikes at length the mufing heart;
Streams never flow in vain; where ftreams abound,
How laughs the land with various plenty crowned!
But time, that should enrich the nobler mind,
Neglected leaves a dreary wafte behind.

ANOTHER.

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

SWEET ftream, that winds through yonder glade,

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid

Silent and chafte fhe fteals along,

Far from the world's gay bufy, throng;

With gentle yet prevailing force,

Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Bleffing and bleft where'er fhe goes,
Pure-bofomed as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face.

270

THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON.

MARIA! I have every good

For thee wished many a time,
Both fad, and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhime.

To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent, or more sprightly,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unfightly.

What favour then not yet poffeffed
Can I for thee require,

In wedded love already bleft,

To thy whole heart's defire?

None here is happy but in part:
Full blifs is blifs divine;

There dwells fome wifh in every heart,
And doubtlefs one in thine.

That with on some fair future day,
Which fate shall brightly gild,

("Tis blameless, be it what it may)
I with it all fulfilled.

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