Which equally distributed, again

The search begins. E'en so, a gentle pair,
By fortune sunk, but form'd of gen'rous mould,
And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast,
In some lone cot amid the distant woods,
Sustain'd alone by providential Heav'n,
Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all.
Nor toil alone they scorn: exalting love,
By the great Father of the Spring inspir'd,
Gives instant courage to the fearful race,
And, to the simple,art. With stealthy wing,
Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest,
Amid a neighbouring bush they silent drop,
And, whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive
Th' unfeeling school-boy. Hence around the head
Of wand'ring swain the white-wing'd plover wheels
Her sounding flight, and then directly on

In long excursions skims the level lawn,

To tempt him from her nest. The wild duck, hence,
O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste
The heath-hen flutters, (pious fraud !) to lead
The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray.

Be not the muse asham'd here to bemoan
Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant man
Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage
From liberty confin'd, and boundless air.
Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull,
Ragged, and all its bright'ning lustre lost;
Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes,
Which, clear and vig'rous, warbles from the beech.

Oh! then, ye friends of love and love-taught song,
Spare the soft tribes: this barbarous art forbear;
If on your bosom innocence can win,

Music engage, or piety persuade.

But let not chief the nightingale lament Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, The astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest, By the hard hands of unrelenting clowns Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls. Her pinions ruffle, and, low drooping, scarce Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade; Where, all abandon'd to despair, she sings Her sorrows through the night; and, on the bough Sole sitting, still, at ev'ry dying fall,

Takes up again her lamentable strain

Of winding woe; till, wide around, the woods
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.

But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, Ardent, disdain; and, weighing oft their wings, Demand the free possession of the sky:

This one glad office more, and then dissolves
Parental love at once, now needless grown.
Unlavish wisdom never works in vain.

'Tis on some ev'ning, sunny, grateful, mild,
When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods
With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes
isit the spacious heav'n, and look abroad

On nature's common, far as they can see,

Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs

Dancing about, still at the giddy verge
Their resolution fails: their pinions still,
In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void,
Trembling refuse; till down before them fly
The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command,
Or push them off. The surging air receives
Its plumy burden; and their self-taught wings
Winnow the waving element. On ground
Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Farther and farther on, the length'ning flight;
Till, vanish'd every fear, and ev'ry pow'r
Rous'd into life and action, light in air
Th' acquitted parents see their soaring race,
And, once rejoicing, never know them more.
High from the summit of a craggy cliff,
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns
On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vig'rous young,
Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire.
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own,

He drives them from his fort, the tow'ring seat,
For ages, of his empire; which, in peace,
Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles.
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat,
Whose lofty elms and venerable oaks
Invite the rook, who, high amid the boughs,
In early spring his airy city builds,

And ceaseless caws amusive; there, well pleas'd,

The farthest of the western islands of Scotland.

I might the various polity survey

Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen
Calls all her chirping family around,

Fed and defended by the fearless cock,

Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks,
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond,
The finely checker'd duck before her train
Rows garrulous. The stately sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle,
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh,
Loud threat'ning, reddens; while the peacock.
spreads

His ev'ry-colour'd glory to the sun,

And swims in radiant majesty along.

O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove
Flies thick in am'rous chase, and wanton rolls
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck.
While thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes below rush furious into flame
And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins
The bull, deep-scorch'd, the raging passion feels.
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food,

Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom,
While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays
Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood.
Dejected wanders, nor th' enticing bud
Crops, though it presses on his careless sense.
And oft in jealous maddening fancy wrapt,

He seeks the fight; and, idly butting, feigns
His rival gor'd in ev'ry knotty trunk.
Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins.
Their eyes flash fury: to the hollow'd earth,
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds,
And, groaning, deep th' impetuous battle mix;
While the fair heifer, balmy breathing, near,
Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed,
With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve,
Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong.
Blows are not felt; but, tossing high his head,
And by the well-known joy to distant plains
Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away;
O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains, flies;
And, neighing, on the aerial summit, takes
Th' exciting gale; then, steep descending, cleaves
The headlong torrents foaming down the hills,
E'en where the madness of the straiten'd stream
Turns in black eddies round: such is the force
With which his frantic heart and sinews swell.
Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring
Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep.
From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous'd,
They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy.
Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing
The cruel raptures of the savage kind:

How, by this flame their native wrath sublim'd,
They roam, amid the fury of their heart,
The far-resounding waste, in fiercer bands,
And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme
I sing, enraptur'd, to the British fair,