IN painted plumes fuperbly drest, Poll gains at length the British shore, II. Belinda's maids are foon preferr'd To teach him now and then a word, As Poll can master it; But 'tis her own important charge To qualify him more at large, And make him quite a wit. III. Sweet Poll! his doating mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies, And calls aloud for fack, She next inftru&s him in the kifs, 'Tis now a little one like Mifs, And now a hearty fmack. IV. At first he aims at what he hears And liftening close with both his ears, Just catches at the found; But foon articulates aloud, Much to th' amufement of the crowd, V. A querulous old woman's voice He fcolds and gives the lie; And now he fings, and now is fick, Poor Poll is like to die. VI. Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare To meet with fuch a well-match'd pair, The language and the tone, Each character in every part And both in unifon. VII. When VII. When children first begin to spell We think them tedious creatures; When birds are to be taught to prate, THE SHRUBBERY. Written in a Time of Affliction. I. OH happy fhades! to me unbleft, How ill the scene that offers reft, II. This glaffy stream, that spreading pine, III. But But fixt unalterable care III. Foregoes not what the feels within, Shows the fame sadness ev'ry where, And flights the season and the scene. IV. For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn, Her animating fmile withdrawn, Has loft its beauties and its pow'rs. V. The faint or moralift fhould tread They feek like me the fecret fhade, VI. Me fruitful fcenes and profpects wafte, These tell me of enjoyments past, THE THE WINTER NOSEGAY. I. WHAT nature, alas! has denied And winter is deck'd with a smile. From the shelter of that funny fhed, II. 'Tis a bow'r of Arcadian fweets, Where Flora is ftill in her prime, A fortrefs to which she retreats, From the cruel affaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of fnow, Thefe pinks are as fresh and as gay, As the faireft and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bofom of May. III. See how they have safely surviv’d Such Mary's true love that has liv'd Through many a turbulent year. The |