700

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 flaves, their plumage dull,
Ragged, and all its brightening luftre loft;
Nor is that fprightly wildness in their notes,
Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech.
O then, ye friends of love and love-taught fong,
Spare the foft tribes, this barbarous art forbear;
If on your bofom innocence can win,
Music engage, or piety perfuade.

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,
Th' aftonish'd mother finds a vacant neft,
By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provifion falls
Her pinions ruffle, and, low-drooping, searce
Can bear the mourner to the poplar fhade;
Where, all abandon'd to despair, fhe fings
Her forrows through the night; and, on the bough,
Sole-fitting, ftill at every dying fall

Takes up again her lamentable ftrain

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

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

This one glad office more, and then diffolves

705

710

715

720

725

Parental

Parental love at once, now needless grown.

730

Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain.

'Tis on fome evening, funny, grateful, mild,

When nought but balm is breathing through the woods,
With yellow luftre bright, that the new tribes
Visit the spacious heavens, and look abroad
On nature's common, far as they can fee,

Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs
Dancing about, ftill at the giddy verge

Their refolution fails; their pinions still,
In loofe libration ftretch'd, to trust the void
Trembling refufe: till down before them fly
The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command,
Or pufh them off. The furging 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 lengthening flight;
Till, vanish'd every fear, and every power
Rouz'd into life and action, light in air
Th' acquitted parents see their foaring race,
And once rejoicing never know them more.
High from the fummit of a craggy cliff,
Hung o'er the deep, fuch as amazing frowns
On utmost Kilda's fhore, whose lonely race
Refign the fetting fun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vigorous young,
Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire.

735

740

745

The fartheft of the western islands of Scotland.

750

755

Now

Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own,
He drives them from his fort, the towering feat,
For ages, of his empire; which, in peace,
Unftain'd he holds, while many a league to fea
He wings his course, and preys in diftant ifles.
Should I my steps turn to the rural feat,

760

Whofe lofty elms, and venerable oaks,

Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs,
In early Spring, his airy city builds,

765

.

And ceafelefs caws amufive; there, well-pleas'd,
I might the various polity survey
Of the mixt houfhold kind.

The careful hen

770

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,

775

The finely-checker'd duck, before her train,
Rows garrulous. The ftately-failing fwan
Gives out his fnowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his ofier-isle,
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh,
Loud-threatening reddens; while the peacock spreads
His every-colour'd glory to the fun,

And fwims in radiant majefty along.

O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove

Flies thick in amorous chace, and wanton rolls

The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 785 While thus the gentle tenants of the shade

Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world

Inftructs the fowls of heaven; and through their breaft

These arts of love diffuses? What, but God?

Infpiring God! who boundless Spirit all,
And unremitting Energy, pervades,
Adjusts, fuftains, and agitates the whole.

850

Chief, lovely Spring, in thee, and thy soft scenes,

The Smiling God is feen; while water, earth,

860

And air, atteft his bounty; which exalts
The brute creation to this finer thought,
And annual melts their undefigning hearts
Profufely thus in tenderness and joy.

Still let my fong a nobler note afsume,
And fing th' infusive force of Spring on Man;
When heaven and earth, as if contending, vye
To raise his being, and ferene his foul.
Can he forbear to join the general smile
Of Nature? Can fierce paffions vex his breast,
While every gale is peace, and every grove
Is melody? Hence! from the bounteous walks
Of flowing Spring, ye fordid fons of earth,
Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe;
Or only lavish to yourselves; away!

$65

870

But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought,
Of all his works, creative Bounty burns

With warmest beam; and on your open front

And

And liberal eye, fits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modest Want. Nor, till invok'd
Can restless goodness wait: your active search
Leaves no cold wintery corner unexplor'd;
Like filent-working Heaven, furprizing oft
The lonely heart with unexpected good.
For you the roving spirit of the wind

880

Blows Spring abroad; for you the teeming clouds 885 Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world;

And the fun fheds his kindest

rays for you,

Ye flower of human race! In these green days,
Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head:

Life flows afresh; and young-ey'd Health exalts 890
The whole creation round. Contentment walks
The funny glade, and feels an inward bliss

Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings

To purchase. Pure ferenity apace

Induces thought, and contemplation ftill.
By fwift degrees the love of Nature works,
And warms the bofom; till at last fublim'd
To rapture, and enthusiastic heat,
We feel the present Deity, and taste
The joy of God to see a happy world!

These are the facred feelings of thy heart,
Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray,
O Lyttelton the friend! thy paffions thus
And meditations vary, as at large,

895

900

Courting the Mufe, through Hagley Park thou ftray'ft; Thy British Temple! There along the dale,

With woods o'er-hung, and shagg'd with moffy rocks,

VOL. I.

D

Whence