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While the rat is on the scout,
And the mouse with curious fnout,
With what vermin elle infest
Every dish and spoil the best;
Frisking thus before the fire,
Thou hast all thine heart's desire


Though in voice and shape they be
Form'd as if akin to thee,
Thou surpasseft, happier far,
Happiest grasshoppers that are,
Theirs is but a fummer's song,
Thine endures the winter long,
Unimpair'd and shrill and clear,
Melody throughout the year.


Neither night nor dawn of day,
Puts a period to thy play,
Sing then- and extend thy (pan-
Far beyond the date of man,
Wretched man, whose years are spent
In repining discontent;
Lives not, aged though he be,
Half a span compar'd with thee.


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IN painted plumes fuperbly drest,
A native of the gorgeous eaft,

By many a billow-tofts
Poll gains at length the British fhore,
Part of the captain's precious store,

A present to his toast.


Belinda's maids are foon preferr'd
To teach him now and then a word,

As Poll can master it ;
But 'tis her own important charge
To qualify him more at large, !

And make him quite a wit..


Sweet Poll ! his doating mistress cries >
Sweet Poll ! the mimic bird replies,

And calls aloud for fack,
She next instru&s him in the kiss,
'Tis now a little one like Miss,

And now a hearty smack.

IV. Ar IV.

At first he aims at what he hears
And listening close with both his ears,

Juit catches at the found;
But soon articulates aloud,
Much to th' amusement of the crowd,

And stuns the neighbours round.

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A querulous old woman's voice
His humorous talent next employsy:

He scolds and gives the lie;.
And now he fings, and now is fick,
Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick,

Poor Poll is like to die..

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Belinda and her bird ! 'tis rare
To meet with such a well-match'd pair,

The language and the tone,
Each character in every part
Sustain'd with so much grace and arty,

And both in unison..

VII. When


When children. first begin to spell?
And stammer out a syllable,

We think them tedious creatures ;
But difficulties soon abate,
When birds' are to be taught to prate,

And women are the teachers.

TH & S HRUB B E R ¥.

Written in a Time of Affliction..


OH happy shades ! to me unbleft;

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 footh a soul less hurt than mine,,

And please, if any thing could please..


But fixt unalterable care

Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness ev'ry where,

And Nights the season and the scene.


For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,

While peace possess’d these filent bow'rs., Her animating smile withdrawn,

Has lost its beauties and its pow'rs.


The faint or moralift fhould tread

This moss-grown alley, musing fow, They seek like me the secret fhade,

But not like me, to nourish woea.



Me fruitful scenes and prospe&s waste,

Alike admonish not to roam, These tell me of enjoyments past,

And those of sorrows yet to come..


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