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Spring-The Moufe's Petition.

SPRING.

23

Now the glad earth her frozen zone unbinds,
And o'er her bofom breathe the western winds;
Already now the fnow-drop dares appear,

The first pale bloffom of th' unripen'd year;
As Flora's breath, by fome transforming power,
Had chang'd an icicle into a flower:

Its name and hue the fcentlefs plant retains,
And winter lingers in its icy veins.

To these fucceed the violet's gloffy blue,
And each inferior flower of fainter hue ;

Till riper months the perfect year difclofe,
And Flora cries exulting, "See

my

rofe!"

MRS. BARBAULD.

THE MOUSE'S PETITION.

Found in the trap where be bad been confined all night.

O HEAR a penfive prisoner's prayer,

For liberty that sighs;

And never let thine heart be shut

Against the wretch's cries !

For

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The Moufe's Petition.

For here forlorn and fad I fit

Within the wiry grate ;

And tremble at th' approaching morn,
Which brings impending fate.

If e'er thy breaft with freedom glowed,
And fpurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy ftrong oppressive force
A free-born-moufe detain,

O do not ftain with guiltless blood
Thy hofpitable hearth,

Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd
A prize fo little worth!

The scatter'd gleanings of a feast

My frugal meals fupply: But if thine unrelenting heart

That flender boon deny,

The cheerful light, the vital air,
Are bleffings widely given;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of heaven.

The

Birds.

The well-taught philofophic mind
To all compallion gives,

Cafts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.

MRS. BARBAULD,

25

BIRDS,

SAY, who the various nations can declare
That plow with bufy wing the peopled air?
These cleave the crumbling bark for infect food,
Those dip their crooked beak in kindred blood;
Some haunt the rufhy moor, the lonely woods
Some bathe their filver plumage in the floods;
Some fly to man, his household gods implore,
And gather round his hofpitable door;
Wait the known call, and find protection there
From all the leffer tyrants of the air,
The tawny eagle feats his callow brood
High on the cliff, and feasts his young with blood.
On Snowdon's rocks, or Orkney's wide domain,
Whofe beetling cliffs o'erhang the western main,

The

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The royal bird his lonely kingdom forms
Amidst the gathering clouds and fullen storms;
Through the wide waste of air he darts his fight,
And holds his founding pinions pois'd for flight;
With cruel eye premeditates the war,

And marks his deftined victim from afar :
Descending in a whirlwind to the ground,
His pinions like the rush of waters found;
The fairest of the fold he bears away,
And to his neft compels the struggling prey.
He scorns the game by meaner hunters tore,
And dips his talons in no vulgar gore.
With lovelier pomp along the graffy plain
The filver pheafant draws his shining train:
Once on the painted banks of Ganges' stream
He spread his plumage to the funny gleam;
But now the wiry net his flight confines,
He lowers his purple creft, and inly pines.

To claim the verfe unnumber'd tribes appear That fwell the mufic of the vernal year: Seiz'd with the spirit of the kindly spring, They tune the voice and fleek the gloffy wing,

With

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With emulative ftrife the notes prolong,
And pour out all their little fouls in song.
When Winter bites upon the naked plain,
Nor food nor shelter in the groves remain,
By inftinct led, a firm united band,
As marshall'd by some skilful general's hand,
The congregated nations wing their way
In dusky columns o'er the trackless sea;
In clouds unnumber'd annual hover o'er
The craggy Bafs, or Kilda's utmost shore;
Thence spread their fails to meet the fouthern
wind,

And leave the gathering tempeft far behind;
Pursue the circling fun's indulgent ray,
Course the swift seasons, and o'ertake the day.

MRS. BARBAULD.

INSECT'S,

OBSERVE the infect race, ordain'd to keep
The lazy fabbath of a half-year's fleep.
Entomb'd beneath the filmy web they lie,
And wait the influence of a kinder sky.

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