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Must be decided by the worth
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND.
The green-house is my summer seat; My shrubs displaced from that retreat
Enjoyed the open air; Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song Had been their mutual solace long,
Lived happy prisoners there.
They sang, as blithe as finches fing,
And frolic where they lift;
And therefore never missed.
But nature works in every breast;
And Dick felt some desires,
A pass between his wires.
The open windows seemed to invite
But Tom was still confined;
To leave his friend behind.
For, settling on his grated roof,
That he desired no more;
A prisoner as before.
Oh ye, who never knew the joys
Fandango, ball, and rout!
To liberty without
THE NEEDLESS ALARM.
There is a field, through which I often pass,
Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red, With which the fieldfare, wintry gueft, is fed; Nor autumn yet had brushed from every spray, With her chill band, the mellow leaves away; But corn was housed, and beans were in the stack, Now therefore issued forth the spotted pack, With tails high mounted, ears hung low, and throats With a whole gamut filled of heavenly notes, For which, alas! my destiny severe, Though ears he gave me two, gave me no ear.
The fun, accomplishing his early march, His lamp now planted on heaven's topmost arch, When, exercise and air my only aim, And heedless whither, to that field I came, Ere yet with ruthless joy the happy hound Told hill and dale that Reynard's track was found, Or with the high-raised horn's melodious clang All Kilwick * and all Dingle-derry * rang. Sheep grazed the field; some with soft bosom
pressed The herb as foft, while nibbling strayed the rest; Nor noise was heard but of the hafty brook, Struggling, detained in many a petty nook.
* Two woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Esq.