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The Cuckoo.

The little children flocking came

And chafed his frozen hands in theirs,
And bufily the good old dame

A comfortable mefs prepares.

Their kindness cheered his drooping foul,
And flowly down his wrinkled cheek
The big round tears were seen to roll,
And told the thanks he could not speak.

The children too began to figh,
And all their merry chat was o'er;
And yet they felt, they knew not why,
More glad than they had done before.

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ORIGINAL.

THE CUCKOO.

HAIL, beauteous ftranger of the wood,
Attendant on the fpring!

Now heaven repairs thy yernal feat,

And woods thy welcome fing.

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The Cuckoo.

Soon as the daify decks the green
Thy certain voice we hear;
Haft thou a ftar to guide thy path,.
Or mark the rolling year?

Delightful vifitant! with thee

I hail the time of flowers,

When heaven is filled with mufic fweet Of birds among the bowers.

The schoolboy wandering in the wood
To pull the flowers fo gay,
Starts-thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay.

Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fly'ft the vocal vale,
An annual gueft in other lands,
Another fpring to hail.

Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green,

Thy fky is ever clear;

hou haft no forrow in thy song,

No winter in thy year!

A

!

THE BLIND BOY.

O SAY, what is that thing call'd light,
Which I must ne'er enjoy?
What are the bleflings of the fight?
O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you fee;
You fay the fun fhines bright:
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play,

And could I always keep awake
With me 't were always day.

'With heavy fighs I often hear

You mourn my hapless woe; But fure with patience I can bear A lofs I ne'er can know.

The

Shalf man, the great mafter of all,
The only infenfible prove?

Forbid it, fair gratitude's call!

Forbid it, devotion and love!

The Lord, who fuch wonders could raife,
And still can deftroy with a nod,
My lips fhall inceffantly praise,

My foul fhall be wrapt in my God!

ORATORIO OF ABEI

THE FLY.

Busy, curious, thirsty fly,
Drink with me, and drink as I;
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou fip, and fip it up.
Make the most of life you may,
Life is fhort, and wears away.
Both alike are mine and thine,
Haft'ning quick to their decline r

Thine's a fummer, mine 's no more

Though repeated to threefcore;

Threescore fummers, when they're gone,

Will appear as short as one.

O! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;-
We'd make, with focial wing,
Our annual vifit o'er the globe,
Companions of the fpring.

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LOGAN.

THE GRASSHOPPER.

HAPPY infect! what can be
In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee ftill,
And thy verdant cup does fill.
Thou doft drink and dance and fing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou doft fee,
All the plants, belong to thee,:
All that summer hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice.
Man for thee does fow and plów;
Farmer he, and landlord thou!

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