« ПредишнаНапред »
The godlike face of man avails him nought.'
A FLOOD. When from the hills the torrents swift and strong Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along, Thro' ruin’d moles the rushing flood resounds, O’erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds; . .
. . . . The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, And flutten'd vineyards, one sad waste appear While clouds descend in lluicy sheets of rain, And all the labours of mankind are vain.
The fly about the candle gay
Dances with thoughtless hum;
. But 64
To a Bee.
But short, alas ! his giddy play,
His pleafure proves his doom.
The child in such simplicity
About the bee-hive clings,
Receives a thousand stings.
TO A BEE.
THOU wert out betimes, thou busy busy Bee !
· When abroad I took my early way, Before the cow from her resting-place Had risen up, and left her trace
On the meadow with dew fo grays I saw thee, thou busy busy Bee!
· Thou wert alive, thou busy busy Bee!...
When the crowd in their sleep were dead, Thou wert abroad in the freshest hour, When the sweetest odour comes from the flower.
Man will not learn to leave his lifeless bed, And be wise and copy thee, thou busy busy Bee !
Thou wert working late, thou busy busy Bee !
After the fall of the cistus flower,
In the coolness of the ev’ning hour,
Thou art a miser, thou bufy busy Bee!
What thy age will never enjoy.
Thou art a fool, thou busy busy Bee,
Thus for another to toil!
And then he will seize the spoil,
The Cranes.The Strength of Virtue.
MARK how when fullen clouds appear,
From the cold region fly away,
THE STRENGTH OF VIRTUE.
........... Against the threats Of malice..........or that power Which erring men call Chance, this hold I firm, Virtue may be affail'd, but never hurtSurpris'd by unjust force, but not inthrall’d; Yea, even that which mischief meant moft harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory : But evil on itself shall back recoil,'. And mix no more with goodness.
THE NIGHTINGALE.: CLOSE in the poplar fhade the nightingale'; ? With piercing cries does her lost young bewail; Which the rough hind observing as they lay Warm in their downy nest had stol'n away :) But she in mournful sounds does still complain, Sings all the night, tho’all her songs are vain} And still renews her miserable strain. :)
In fair Calabria's woods a snake is bred.
frogs. But when in muddy pools the water sinks, And the chapt earth is furrow'd o'er with chinks,