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The Cock.-The fallen Oak.

THE COCK.

103

WITHIN a homestead lived, without a peer
For crowing loud, the noble chanticleer.
More certain was the crowing of this cock
To number hours than is an abbey clock';
And fooner than the morning bell was rung
He clapp'd his wings upon his rooft, and fung.
High was his comb, and coral-red withal,
In dents embattled like a castle wall:

His bill was raven black, and shone like jet;
Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet;
White were his nails, like filver to behold;
His body glitter'd like the burnish'd gold.

THE FALLEN OAK.

DRYDEN.

THE lofty oak, whofe vigorous branches form
An ample shade, and brave the wildeft storm,
High o'er the subject wood is seen to grow,
The guard and glory of the trees below;
Till on its head the fiery bolt defcends,
And on the plain the shatter'd trunk extends:
Yet then it lies majestic as before,

And ftill the glory, though the guard no more.

CRABBE.

104

A Country Life.-A Grove.

A COUNTRY LIFE.

O LET me in the country range!
"T is there we breathe, 't is there we live;
The beauteous fcene of aged mountains,
Smiling valleys, murm'ring fountains;
Lambs in flow'ry pastures bleating,
Echo ev'ry note repeating;

Bees with bufy founds delighting,
Groves to gentle fleep inviting;
Whifp'ring winds the poplars courting,
Swains in ruftic circles fporting;
Birds in cheerful notes expreffing
Nature's bounty and their bleffing:
Thefe afford a lafting pleasure

Without guilt, and without measure.

BROWN.

A GROVE.

STRAIGHT as a line, in beauteous order flood,
Of oaks unfhorn, a venerable wood:

Fresh was the grafs beneath, and every tree
At distance planted in a due degree.

The Happy Man.

105

Their branching arms in air, with equal space, Stretch'd to their neighbours with a long embrace. And the new leaves on ev'ry bough were feen, Some ruddy-colour'd, fome of lighter green. The painted birds, companions of the spring, Hopping from fpray to spray, were heard to fing: Both eyes and ears receiv'd a like delight, Enchanting mufic, and a charming sight.

DRYDEN.

THE HAPPY MAN:

CONTENT with poverty my foul I arm,
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
What is't to me,

Who never fail on fortune's faithlefs fea,
If ftorms arife, and clouds grow black,
If the maft split and threaten wreck?
Then let the greedy merchant fear
For his ill gotten gain,

While the debating winds and billows bear
His wealth into the main.

For

106

Innocence.-A Winter Song.

For me, fecure of Fortune's blows,
Secure of what I cannot lofe,

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In my small pinnace I can fail,
Contemning all the bluft'ring roar;
And running with a merry gale,
With friendly ftars my safety seek
Within fome little winding creek,
And fee the ftorm afhore.

DRYDEN.

INNOCENCE.

WHAT ftronger breaft-plate than a heart un
tainted?

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel juft,
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose confcience with injuftice is corrupted.

SHAKESPEARE,

A WINTER SONG.

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the fhepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail ;

When

The Vanity of Greatness.

When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly fings the staring owl,
Tu-whit to-whoo;-a merry note!
While greafy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parfon's saw,
And birds fit brooding in the fnow,
And Marian's nofe looks red and raw;
When roafted crabs hifs in the bowl,
Then nightly fings the ftaring owl,
Tu-whit to-whoo;-a merry note !
While greafy Joan doth keel the pot.

197

SHAKESPEARE.

THE VANITY OF GREATNESS.

THE glories of our birth and state
Are fhadows, not fubftantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and crown

Muft tumble down,

And

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