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In sleep he seem'd to view
Awoke and found it true.
For, aided both by ear and scent,
Ah, Muse! forbear to speak
He left poor Bully's beak.
O bad he made that too his prey !
Of such mellifluous tone,
Fast stuck within his own.
Maria weeps—the Muses mourn
On Thracian Hebrus' side
The cruel death he died.
The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a
Which Mary to Anna convey'd, [shower, The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,
And weigh'd down its beautiful head.
The cup was all fill’d, and the leaves were all wet
And it seem'd to a fanciful view
On the flourishing bush where it grew.
I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas !
I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim’d, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,
Already to sorrow resign'd.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloom'd with its owner a while; And the tear, that is wiped with a little address
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
REASONING at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way, While meaner things, whom instinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray.
One silent eve I wanderd late,
And heard the voice of love ; The turtle thus address'd her mate,
And soothed the listening dove :
Our mutual bond of faith and truth
No time shall disengage,
Shall cheer our latest age :
While innocence without disguise
And constancy sincere,
And mine can read them there;
Those ills that wait on all below,
Shall ne'er be felt by me, Or gently felt, and only so,
As being shared with thee.
When lightnings flash among the trees,
Or kites are hovering near,
And know no other fear.
"Tis then I feel myself a wife,
And press thy wedded side, Resolved a union form'd for life
Death never shall divide.
But oh ! if, fickle and unchaste,
(Forgive a transient thought) Thou couldst become unkind at last,
And scorn thy present lot,
No need of lightnings from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak; Denied the endearments of thine eye,
This widow'd heart would break.
Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,
Soft as the passing wind, And I recorded what I heard,
A lesson for mankind.
A RAVEN, while with glossy breast
leaves about her ears, And fill'd her with a thousand fears, Lest the rude blast should snap the bough, And spread her golden hopes below. But just at eve the blowing weather And all her fears were hush'd together : And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph, 'Tis over, and the brood is safe (For ravens, though, as birds of omen, They teach both conjurers and old women To tell us what is to befall, Can't prophesy themselves at all.) The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, Who long had mark'd her airy lodge,