With crimson foam; and when the banquet's o'er,
They ftride away and paint their steps with
In flight alone the fhepherd puts his truft,
And shudders at the talon in the dust.
MILD is the Behemoth *, tho' large his frame.
Smooth is his temper, and represt his flame,
While unprovok'd. This native of the flood
Lifts his broad foot, and puts afhore for food;
Earth finks beneath him as he moves along
To feek the herbs, and mingle with the throng.
The uplands feed him: there the beafts admire
The mighty ftranger, and in dread retire;
At length his greatnefs nearer they furvey,
Graze in his fhadow, and his eye obey.
The fens and marshes are his cool retreat,
His noontide shelter from the burning heat;
Their fedgy bofoms his wide couch are made,
And
groves of willows give him all their shade.
The fcripture name for the Hippopotamus,
WITH gallant pomp and beauteous pride
The floating pile in harbour rode;
Proud of her freight, the fwelling tide
Reluctant left the veffel's fide,
And rais'd it as it flow'd.
The waves, with eastern breezes curl'd,
Had filver'd half the liquid plain;
The anchors weigh'd, the fails unfurl'd,
Serenely mov'd the wooden world,
And stretch'd along the main.
See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings :
Short is his joy! he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Ah! what avail his gloffy varying dyes,
His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes;
The vivid green his fhining plumes unfold;
His painted wings, and breast that shines with
gold?
The Linnet.-Fortitude.-A Simile.
IMPATIENT of his iron cage,
The linnet fpends his little rage,
And 'fcapes with fhatter'd wings;
But foon with new-fledged pinions foars,
And, haft'ning to his native bowers,
A joyful welcome fings.
EMPIRE o'er the earth and main,
Heav'n that gave can take again;
But a mind that 's truly brave
Stands defpifing
Storms arifing,
And can ne'er be made a flave.
So the pure limpid ftream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and, as it runs, refines;
Till by degrees the floating mirror fhines,
Reflects each flower that on the border grows,
And a new heav'n in its fair bofom fhows.
WHEN the vocal cuckoo wings
To fouthern climes his way;
When the swifts in giddy rings
Their vent'rous flight effay;
When the linnet droops forlorn
Upon the naked spray;
Mute the blackbird on the thorn,
And lark that hails the day;
Still the robin whistles clear,
And braves the fading year.
Other flutt'rers come and go,
The frolic train of spring;
Fearful from the drifting snow
They urge their rapid wing.
Other warblers ceafe their ftrain
When ftorms forbid to roam,
But Robin then forfakes the plain,
And gives us fongs at home':
Let the fickle fporters flee-
The Winter Friend for me!
SEE how the golden groves around me smile,
That fhun the coast of Britain's stormy isle,
Or, when tranfplanted and preserv'd with care,
Curfe the cold clime, and itarve in northern air!
Here kindly warmth their mounting juice fer-
To nobler tastes and more exalted scents:
E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trodden weeds fend out a rich perfume.
Bear me, fome god, to Baia's gentle feats,
Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats;
Where western gales eternally refide,
And all the feafons lavish all their pride:
Bloffoms and fruits and flowers together rife,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies.
How has kind heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains and her funny fhores,
With all the gifts that heav'n and earth impart,
The fmiles of nature and the charms of art,
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