232 PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. An aspect stern on man's affairs, Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, MORAL. Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry- THE DOG AND THE WATER LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs When, 'scaped from literary cares, My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with every grace That spaniel found for me) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd And one I wish'd my own. With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains But with a cherup clear and strong I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd; The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried, My dog shall mortify the pride But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives me all. THE WINTER NOSEGAY. WHAT nature, alas! has denied And winter is deck'd with a smile. From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead. "Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived Seem'd graced with a livelier hue, The truth of a friend such as you. THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Ordain'd to move when others please, I envy that unfeeling shrub, The plant he meant grew not far off, And with asperity replied: When, cry the botanists, and stare, To make them grow just where she chooses. You shapeless nothing in a dish, You that are but almost a fish, |