VI.

Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare

To meet with fuch a well match'd pair,

The language and the tone,

Each character in ev'ry part

Suftain'd with fo much grace and art,

And both in unison.

VII.

When children first begin to spell,
And ftammer out a fyllable,

We think them tedious creatures;

But difficulties foon abate,

When birds are to be taught to prate,
And women are the teachers.

THE SHRUBBERY

WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.

I.

Он, happy fhades-to me unblest !

Friendly to peace, but not to me!

How ill the fcene that offers reft,

And heart that cannot reft, agree!

II.

This glaffy ftream, that spreading pine, Thofe alders quiv'ring to the breeze, Might footh a foul less hurt than mine, And please, if any thing could please.

III.

But fix'd unalterable care

Foregoes not what the feels within, Shows the fame sadness ev'ry where, And flights the feafon and the scene..

IV.

For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While peace poffefs'd these filent bow'rs,

Her animating smile withdrawn,
Has loft its beauties and its pow'rs.

མ.

The faint or moralift should tread

This mofs-grown alley, mufing, flow;

They feek, like me, the fecret fhade,
But not, like me, to nourish woe!

VI.

Me fruitful scenes and profpects wafte

Alike admonifh not to roam; These tell me of enjoyments paft,

And those of forrows yet to come.

THE WINTER NOSEGAY..

I.

WHAT nature, alas! has denied

To the delicate growth of our ifle,

Art has in a meafure fupplied,.

And winter is deck'd with a smile.

See, Mary, what beauties I bring

From the fhelter of that funny fhed,

Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead.

II.

'Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets,

Where Flora is ftill in her prime,

A fortrefs, to which the retreats

From the cruel affaults of the clime..

While earth wears a mantle of fnow,

These pinks are as fresh and as gay
As the faireft and sweetest that blow

On the beautiful bofom of May.
III.

See how they have safely surviv'd
The frowns of a sky so fevere;
Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd
Through many a turbulent year.
The charms of the late blowing rose
Seem grac'd with a livelier hue,

And the winter of forrow best shows
The truth of a friend fuch as you.

MUTUAL FORBEARANCE

NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED

STATE.

THE lady thus address'd her spouse-
What a mere dungeon is this house!
By no means large enough; and, was it,
Yet this dull room, and that dark closet-

Thofe hangings, with their worn-out graces,
Long beards, long nofes, and pale faces-
Are fuch an antiquated scene,

They overwhelm me with the spleen!
Sir Humphrey, fhooting in the dark,
Makes answer quite befide the mark:
No doubt, my dear, I bade him come,
Engag'd myself to be at home,

And shall expe&t him at the door
Precisely when the clock ftrikes four.

You are so deaf, the lady cried,

(And rais'd her voice, and frown'd befide) You are fo fadly deaf, my dear,

What shall I do to make you hear?
Difmifs poor Harry! he replies;
Some people are more nice than wife-
For one flight trefpafs all this ftir?
What if he did ride whip and fpur,
'Twas but a mile-your fav'rite horse
Will never look one hair the worse.

Well, I proteft 'tis paft all bearing-
Child! I am rather hard of hearing→
Yes, truly-one muft fcream and bawl-
I tell you, you can't hear at all!