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ELEGY XXI.

THE

PARTRIDGES.

WRITTEN ON THE LAST OF AUGUST.

BY THE REV. MR. PRATT.

HARD by yon copse, that skirts the flowery vale,
As late I walk'd to taste the evening breeze,
A plaintive murmur mingled in the gale,

And notes of sorrow echo'd through the trees.

Touch'd by the pensive sound, I nearer drew :

But my rude step increas'd the cause of pain: Soon o'er my head the whirring Partridge flew, Alarm'd; and with her flew an infant train.

But short the excursion ;-for, unus'd to play, Feebly the unfledg'd wings th' essay could make: The parent, shelter'd by the closing day,

Lodg'd her lov'd covey in a neighb'ring brake.

Her cradling pinions there she amply spread,

And hush'd th' affrighted family to rest; -But still the late alarm suggested dread, And closer to their feathery friend they press'd.

She, wretched parent! doom'd to various woe,
Felt all a mother's hope, a mother's care;
With grief foresaw the dawn's impending blow,
And to avert it thus preferr'd her prayer:

O thou! who e'en the sparrow dost befriend,
Whose providence protects the harmless wren;
Thou God of birds! these innocents defend,
From the vile sport of unrelenting men.

For soon as dawn shall dapple yonder skies,
The slaught'ring gunner, with the tube of fate,
While the dire dog the faithless stubble tries
Shall persecute our tribe with annual hate.

O may the sun, unfann'd by cooling gale,
Parch with unusual heat th' undewy ground;
So shall the pointer's wonted cunning fail,

So shall the sportsman leave my babes unfound.

Then shall I fearless guide them to the mead,
Then shall I see with joy their plumage grow;
Then shall I see (fond thought!) their future breed,
And every transport of a parent know.

But if some victim must endure the dart,

And Fate marks out that victim from my race, Strike, strike the leaden vengeance through this heart; Spare, spare my babes; and I the death embrace.

ELEGY XXII.

THE

GOLDFINCHES.

BY THE REV. RICHARD JAGO, M. A.

---------Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.

Το

you, whose groves protect the feather'd quires, Who lend their artless notes a willing ear,

To you, whom pity moves, and taste inspires,
The Doric strain belongs; O Shenstone, hear.

'Twas gentle spring, when all the tuneful race,

By nature taught, in nuptial leagues combine: A goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,

And hearts and fortunes with her mate to join.

Through Nature's spacious walks at large they rang'd,
No settled haunts, no fix'd abode their aim;
As chance or fancy led, their path they chang'd,
Themselves, in every vary'd scene, the same.

Till on a day to weighty cares resign'd,

With mutual choice, alternate they agreed,

On rambling thoughts no more to turn their mind, But settle soberly, and raise a breed.

All in a garden, on a currant-bush,

With wond'rous art they built their waving seat, In the next orchard liv'd a friendly thrush, Not distant far, a woodlark's soft retreat.

Here blest with ease, and in each other blest,
With early songs they wak'd the sprightly groves,
'Till time matur'd their bliss, and crown'd their nest
With infant pledges of their faithful loves.

And now what transport glow'd in either's eye!
What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food!
What joy each other's likeness to descry,
And future sonnets in the chirping brood!

But ah! what earthly happiness can last ?
How does the fairest purpose often fail?
A truant school-boy's wantonness could blast
Their rising hopes, and leave them both to wail.

The most ungentle of his tribe was he;
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart:
With concords. false and hideous prosody

He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.

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