To warm her young,

and to teach them to spring

At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing!

Over the deep! over the deep!

Where the whale, and the shark, and the swordfish sleep,

Outflying the blast, and the driving rain,\
The Petrel telleth her tale in vain ;

For the mariner curseth the warning bird,
Who bringeth him news of the storm unheard!
Ah! thus does the prophet of good or ill
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still:
Yet he ne'er falters :-Lo, Petrel! spring
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing!

THE PARROT AND THE WREN.

A CONTRAST.

Wordsworth.

WITHIN her gilded cage confined,

I saw a dazzling belle,

A Parrot of that famous kind,

Whose name was "Nonpareil."

Like beads of glossy jet her eyes;

And, smooth'd by Nature's skill, With pearl or gleaming agate vies Her finely-curvéd bill.

Her plumy mantle's living hues,
In mass opposed to mass,
Outshine the splendour that imbues
The robes of pictured glass.

And, sooth to say, an apter mate
Did never tempt the choice
Of feathered thing, most delicate
In figure and in voice.

But, exiled from Australian bowers,

And singleness her lot,

She trills her song with tutor❜d powers,

Or mocks each casual note.

No more of pity for regrets

With which she may have striven;

But now in wantonness she frets,

Or spite, if cause be given.

Arch, volatile, a sportive bird,
By social glee inspired ;

Ambitious to be dr

seen or heard,

And pleased to be admired.

This moss-lined shed, green, soft, and dry,
Harbours a self-contented Wren,

Not shunning man's abode, though shy,
Almost as thought itself, of human ken.

Strange places, coverts unendear'd,

She never tried; the very nest

In which this child of Spring was rear'd,

Is warm'd through winter by her feathery breast.

To the bleak winds she sometimes gives
A slender, unexpected strain!

That tells the Hermitess still lives,

Though she appear not, and be sought in vain.

Say, Dora! tell me by yon placid moon,

If call'd to choose between the favour'd pair, Which would you be,- the bird of the saloon, By ladies' fingers tended with nice care, Caress'd, applauded, upon dainties fed,— Or Nature's darling of this mossy shed?

THE SWALLOW PEOPLE.

Thomson.

WHEN Autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching Winter, gather'd, play
The Swallow People; and, toss'd wide around,
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift,
The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once,
E'er to their wintry slumbers they retire.

Or rather into warmer climes convey'd,

With other kindred birds of season, there
They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months
Invite them welcome back. .

The stork assembly meets; for many a day
Consulting deep, and various, ere they take
Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky.
And now, their route design'd, their leaders chose,
Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous

wings,

And many a circle, many a short essay, Wheel'd round and round, in congregation fell The figured flight ascends, and, riding high The aërial billows, mixes with the clouds.

SINGING BIRDS.

Ben Jonson.

HARK! how each bough a several music yields;
The lusty Throstle, early Nightingale,

Accord in tune, though vary in their tale.
The chirping Swallow, called forth by the sun,
And crested Lark, doth her division run.
The yellow Bees the air with music fill,
The Finches carol, and the Turtles bill.