The most ungentle of his tribe was he; No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart: With concords falfe, and hideous profody He fcrawl'd his talk, and blunder'd o'er his part. On barb'rous plunder bent, with favage eye He mark'd where wrapt in down the younglings lay, Then rushing feiz'd the wretched family, 5 And bore them in his impious hands away. But how fhall I relate in numbers rude * The pangs for poor Chryfomitris decreed ! When from a neighb'ring fpray aghaft fhe view'd The favage ruffian's inaufpicious deed! So wrapt in grief fome heart-ftruck matron ftands, While horrid flames furround her children's room! On heav'n fhe calls, and wrings her trembling hands; Conftrain'd to fee, but not prevent their doom. O grief of griefs! with fhrieking voice fhe cry'd, "What fight is this that I have liv'd to fee? "O that I had a maiden-goldfinch died, "From love's falfe joys, and bitter forrows free! "Was it for this, alas! with weary bill, "Was it for this, I pois'd th' unwieldly ftraw? "For this 1 pick'd the mofs from yonder hill? "Nor fhun'd the pond'rous chat along to draw? "Was it for this, I cull'd the wool with care; "And ftrove with all my skill our work to crown "For this, with pain I bent the ftubborn hair; "And lin'd our cradle with the thiftle's down? "Was it for this, my freedom I refign'd; ? "And ceas'd to rove from beauteous plain to plain? "For this, I fat at home whole days confin'd, "And bore the fcorching heat, and pealing rain? "Was it for this, my watchful eyes grew dim? "The crimson rofes on my cheek turn'd pale "Pale is my golden plumage, once fo trim; "And all my wonted fpirits 'gin to fail. Chryfomitris, it feems, is the name for a goldfinch.. wolf O Plunderer vile! O more than weezel fell! "More treach'rous than the cat with prudifh face! "More fierce than kites with whom the furies dwell! "More pilf'ring than the cuckow's prowling race! "For thee may plumb or goofb'ry never grow, "No juicy currant cool thy clammy throat: "But bloody birch-twigs work thee fhameful woe, "Nor ever goldfinch cheer thee with her note.' Thus fang the mournful bird her piteous tale, The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd: Then fide by fide they fought the diftant vale, And there in filent fadnefs inly mourn'd. An ODE on the HEAVENLY BODIES. HE fpacious firmament on high, And fpangled Heavens, a fhining frame, Their great Original proclaim: Th' unwearied fun, from day to day, II. Soon as the evening fhades prevail, Whilft all the ftars that round her burn, III. What though, in folemn filence, all The hand that made us is Divine." A A HYMN on GRATITUDE. [ADDISON.] I. WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, My rifing foul furveys; Tranfported with the view, I'm loft II. O how fhall words, with equal warmth, That glows within my ravifh'd heart? IV. To all my weak complaints and cries, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt V. Unnumber'd comforts to my foul When in the flipp'ry paths of youth Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe, VII. Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, And through the pleafing fnares of vice, More to be fear'd than they. VIII. When worn with ficknefs, oft haft thou With health renew'd my face, And when in fins and forrows funk, Reviv'd my foul with grace. Thy IX. Thy bounteous hand with worldly blifs X..V Ten thousand thoufand precious gifts Nor is the least a chearful heart, Through every period of my life XII. When nature fails, and day and night XIII. Through all eternity to Thee A joyful fong I'll raife, For O eternity's too short. To utter all thy praise. An ODE on PROVIDENCE. [ADDISON.] I. H How fure is there defence! OW are thy fervants bleft, O Lord! Eternal Wifdom is their guide Their help Omnipotence. .II. In foreign realms, and lands remote, Thro' burning climes I pafs'd unhurt, III. Thy mercy sweeten'd every foil, And fear in every heart When waves on waves, and gulphs or gulphs VI.. Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Whilft in the confidence of prayer, My foul took hold on thee. VII. For tho' in dreadful whirles we hung,. I knew thou wert not flow to hear, VIII. The ftorm was laid, the winds retir'd, The fea, that roar'd at thy command, IX. In midft of dangers, fears, and death, And praise thee for thy mercies past, X. My life, if thou preferv'ft my life,. Thy facrifice fhall be; And death, if death must be my doom,. Shall join my foul to thee.. O DE to SPRING. [Mifs CARTER.] YOUTH of the year, delightful Spring! Infpires my languid lays; No more I fleep in floth fupine, Its annual tribute pays. Efcap'd |