Pay me for thy warm retreat

With a fong more soft and sweet;

In return thou fhalt receive

Such a strain as I can give.

II.

Thus thy praise shall be expreft,
Inoffenfive, welcome guest !

While the rat is on the scout,
And the mouse with curious fnout,

With what vermin else infeft

Ev'ry dish, and spoil the best;

Frifking thus before the fire,

Thou haft all thine heart's defire.

III.

Though in voice and shape they be

Form'd as if akin to thee,

Thou furpaffeft, happier far,
Happieft grasshoppers that are;
Their's is but a fummer's fong,
Thine endures the winter long,
Unimpair'd and thrill and clear,
Melody throughout the year.

IV.

Neither night, nor dawn of day,
Puts a period to thy play:

Sing then-and extend thy span
Far beyond the date of man.
Wretched man, whose years are spent
In repining discontent,

Lives not, aged though he be,
Half a span, compar'd with thee.

IV. THE PARROT.

I.

IN painted plumes fuperbly dreft,

A native of the gorgeous eaft,
By many a billow toft;

Poll gains at length the British fhore,
Part of the captain's precious store-
A present to his toaft.

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 inftructs him in the kiss; 'Tis now a little one, like Miss,

And now a hearty smack.

IV.

At first he aims at what he hears;

And, lift'ning close with both his ears,

Juft catches at the found;

But foon articulates aloud,

Much to th' amusement of the crowd, And ftuns the neighbours round.

V.

A querulous old woman's voice

His hum'rous talent next employs

He fcolds and gives the lie.

And now he fings, and now is fickHere Sally, Sufan, come, come quick;

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 ev'ry part

Suftain'd with so much grace and art,

And both in unifon.

VII.

When children firft begin to fpell,
And ftammer out a fyllable,

We think them tedious creatures;
But difficulties foon abate,

When birds are to be taught to prate,
And women are the teachers,

THE SHRUBBERY.

WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.

I.

Он, happy fhades-to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me!

How ill the scene that offers reft,

And heart that cannot reft, agree!

II.

This glaffy ftream, that spreading pine, Those alders quiv'ring to the breeze, Might footh a foul less hurt than mine, And please, if any thing could please.

III.

But fix'd unalterable care

Foregoes not what the feels within, shows the fame fadness ev'ry where, And flights the season and the scene.

IV.

For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While peace poffefs'd these filent bow'rs,

Her animating smile withdrawn,

Has loft its beauties and its pow'rs.

ས.

The faint or moralift fhould tread

This mofs-grown alley, mufing, flow;

They feek, like me, the secret shade,
But not, like me, to nourish woe!