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Reluctant, meets the rude embrace,
And bleats among the howling race,
With horror oft her
Her murder'd kindred of the fold;
Each day a sister-lamb is serv'd,
And at the glutton's table carv'd;
The crashing bones he grinds for food,
And flakes his thirst with streaming blood.
Love, who the cruel mind detests,
And lodges but in gentle breasts,
Was now no more. Enjoyment past,
The savage hunger'd for the feast;
But (as we find in human race,
A mask conceals the villain's face)
Justice must authorize the treat;
"Till then he long'd, but durft not eat,
As forth he walk’d, in quest of prey,
The hunters met him on the way;
Fear wings his flight; the marsh he sought;
The snuffing dogs are set at fault.
His ftomach baulk'd, now hunger gnaws,
Howling, he grinds his empty jaws ;
Food must be had, and lamb is nigh;
His maw invokes the fraudful lie.
Is this (dissembling rage, he cry'd)
The gentle virtue of a bride?
That, leagu'd with man's destroying race,
She sets her husband for the chace ?
By treach'ry prompts the noify hound
To fcent his footsteps on the ground?
Thou trait’ress vile! for this thy blood
Shall glut my rage, and dye the wood!
So saying, on the lamb he flies,
Beneath his jaws the victim dies,
OON as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And, unperceiv’d, unfolds the spreading day ;
Before the ripened field the reapers fand,
In fair array ; each by the lass he loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate
By nameless gentle offices her toil.
At once they stoop, and swell the lusty sheaves;
While thro' their chearful band the rural talk,
The rural scandal, and the rural jest,
Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time,
And steal unfelt the sultry hours away.
Behind the master walks, builds
And conscious, glancing oft on every fide
His fated eye, feels his heart heave with joy.
The gleaners spread around, and here and there,
Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick,
Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth,
The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you ;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields ;
While these unhappy partners of your kind
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
“ No, never, from this hour to part,
" We'll live and love so true; “ The sigh that rends thy conftant heart,
“ Shall break thy Edwin's too.”
The NIGHTINGALE and GLOW-WORM.
HE prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose
The lilly, and the blushing rose,
From public view her charms will screen,
And rarely in the crowd be seen ;
This simple truth fhall keep her wise,
" The faireft fruits attract the flies.”
One night a glow-worm, proud and vain,
Contemplating her glitt'ring train,
Cry’d, sure there never was in nature
So elegant, so fine a creature.
All other insects, that I see,
The frugal ant, industrious bee,
Or filk-worm, with contempt I view;
With all that low, mechanic crew,
Who servilely their lives employ
In business, enemy to joy.
Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my scorn,
For grandeur only I was born,
Or sure am sprung from race divine,
And plac'd on earth, to live and shine.
Those lights, that sparkle so on high,
Are but the glow-worms of the sky,