Their fentiments fo well expreffed
Influenced mightily the reft,

All paired, and each pair built a neft.

But though the birds were thus in hafte,
The leaves came on not quite so faft,
And deftiny, that sometimes bears
An aspect ftern on man's affairs,
Not altogether smiled on theirs.
The wind, of late breathed gently forth,
Now fhifted eaft and eaft by north;
Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know,
Could shelter them from rain or fnow,
Stepping into their nefts, they paddled,

Themselves were chilled, their eggs were addled;
Soon every father bird and mother

Grew quarrelfome, and pecked each other,

Parted without the leaft regret,
Except that they had ever met,
And learned in future to be wifer,
Than to negle&t a good advifer.

INSTRUCTION.

Miffes! the tale that I relate

This leffon feems to carry

Choose not alone a proper mate,
But proper time to marry.

}

THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.

NO FABLE.

THE noon was shady, and foft airs
Swept Oufe's filent tide,

When, 'fcaped from literary cares,
I wandered on his fide.

My spaniel, prettieft of his race,
And high in pedigree,

(Two nymphs* adorned with every grace

That spaniel found for me)

Now wantoned loft in flags and reeds,

Now ftarting into fight

Pursued the fwallow o'er the meads
With fcarce a flower flight.

It was the time when Ouse displayed
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent furveyed,

And one I wished my own.

* Sir Robert Gunaing's daughters.

With cane extended far I fought

To fteer it close to land;

But ftill the prize, though nearly caught, Escaped my eager hand.

Beau marked my unsuccessful pains

With fixt confiderate face,

And puzzling fat his puppy brains
To comprehend the cafe.

But with a chirrup clear and ftrong,
Difperfing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and followed long
The windings of the ftream.

My ramble finished, I returned,

Beau trotting far before

The floating wreath again difcerned,
And plunging left the shore.

I faw him with that lily cropped
Impatient fwim to meet

My quick approach, and foon he dropped
The treasure at my feet.

Charmed with the fight, the world, I cried,
Shall hear of this thy deed:
My dog fhall mortify the pride
Of man's fuperior breed:

But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,

To fhew a love as prompt as thine
To Him who gives me all.

THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT.

AN Oyfter, caft upon the shore,
Was heard, though never heard before,
Complaining in a speech well worded,
And worthy thus to be recorded-

Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell

For ever in my native shell;

Ordained to move when others please,
Not for my own content or ease;
But toffed and buffeted about,
Now in the water and now out.
"Twere better to be born a ftone,
Of ruder shape, and feeling none,
Than with a tenderness like mine,
And fenfibilities fo fine!

I envy that unfeeling shrub,
Faft-rooted against every rub.

The plant he meant grew not far off,

And felt the fneer with fcorn enough;

Was hurt, difgufted, mortified,

And with afperity replied.