Ante larem proprium placidam expectare fenectam,
Tum demùm exactis non infeliciter annis,
Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut fub cefpite condi!
On a GOLDFINCH farved to Death in bis Cage
TIME was when I was free as air,
The thistles downy feed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;
I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,
My form genteel, my plumage gay,
My ftrains for ever new.
But gawdy plumage, fprightly ftrain,
And form genteel were all in vain,
And of a tranfient date,
For caught and cag'd and starv'd to death,
In dying fighs my little breath
Soon pafs'd the wiry grate.
Thanks, gentle fwain, for all my woes,
And thanks for this effectual clofe
And cure of ev'ry ill!
More cruelty could none express,
And I, if you had fhewn me less
Had been your pris'ner still.
The PINE APPLE and the BEE.
THE pine apples in triple row,
Were basking hot and all in blow,
A bee of most discerning taste
Perceiv'd the fragrance as he pass'd,
On eager wing the spoiler caine,
And fearch'd for crannies in the frame,
Urg'd his attempt on ev'ry fide,
To ev'ry pane his trunk applied,
But still in vain, the frame was tight,
And only pervious to the light.
Thus having wafted half the day,
He wing'd his flight another way.
Methinks, I faid, in thee I find
The fin and madness of mankind;
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Confumes his foul with vain defires;
Folly the fpring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.
268 THE PINE APPLE AND BEE.
While Cynthio ogles as the paffes
The nymph between two chariot glasses,
She is the pine apple, and he
The filly unfuccefsful bee.
The maid who views with pensive air
The show-glafs fraught with glitt'ring ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But fighs at thought of empty pockets,
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah the cruel glafs between!
Our dear delights are often fuch,
Expos'd to view but not to touch;
The fight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine apples in frames,
With hopeless with one looks and lingers,
One breaks the glass and cuts his fingers,
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.
HORACE. Book the 2d. ODE the 10th.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So fhalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverfe fortune's pow'r ;
Not always tempt the diftant deep,
Nor always timorously creep,
Along the treach'rous fhore.
He that holds faft the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great;
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbitt'ring all his state.
The tallest pines feel moft the pow'r
Of wintry blasts, the loftiest tow'r
Comes heaviest to the ground;
The bolts that spare the mountain's fide,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,
And spread the ruin round..
The well inform'd philofopher
Rejoices with an wholefome fear,
And hopes in fpite of pain;
If winter bellow from the north,
Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And nature laughs again.
What if thine heav'n be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last,
Expect a brighter fky;
The God that strings the filver bow,
Awakes fometimes the mufes too,
And lays his arrows by.
If hindrances obftruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity difplay,
And let thy ftrength be feen;
But oh if Fortune fill thy fail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvafs in.
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