Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders roll'd All night, me resting quiet in the fold. I could expound the melancholy tone; But ah! those dreadful yells what soul can hear, Him answer'd then his loving mate and true, But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe. How? leap into the pit our life to save? Or should the brambles, interpos'd, our fall And rush those other sounds, that seem by tongues By panting dog, tir'd man, and spatter'd horse, The flock course. grew calm again, and I, the road Following that led me to my own abode, Much wonder'd that the silly sheep had found So sweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound. MORAL. Beware of desp'rate steps. The darkest day (Left till to-morrow) will have pass'd away. THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs Swept Ouse's silent tide, When, scap'd from literary cares, I wander'd on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race, And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs,' adorn'd with ev'ry 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 His lilies newly blown; Their beauties I intent survey'd, And one I wish'd my own. With cane extended far I sought To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand. P Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains With fixt consid'rate face, And puzzling sat his puppy brains To comprehend the case. But with a chirrup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble finish'd, I return'd. Beau trotting far before The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. |