The open

windows feemed to invite

The freeman to a farewell flight;

But Tom was ftill confined; And Dick, although his way was clear, Was much too generous and fincere To leave his friend behind.

For, fettling on his grated roof,

He chirped and kiffed him, giving proof
That he defired no more;

Nor would forfake his cage at last,
Till gently feized, I fhut him faft,
A prifoner as before.

Oh

ye,

who never knew the joys

Of Friendship, fatisfied with noise,

Fandango, ball, and rout!

Blufh, when I tell you how a bird,

A prifon with a friend preferred

To liberty without.

THE NEEDLESS ALARM.

A TALE.

THERE is a field, through which I often pass,
Thick overspread with mofs and filky grafs,
Adjoining clofe to Kilwick's echoing wood,
Where oft the bitch-fox hides her hapless brood,
Referved to folace many a neighbouring 'fquire,
That he may follow them through brake and briar,
Contufion hazarding of neck or fpine,
Which rural gentlemen call sport divine.
A narrow brook, by rufhy banks concealed,
Runs in a bottom, and divides the field;
Oaks intersperse it, that had once a head,
But now wear crefts of oven-wood inftead;
And where the land flopes to its watery bourn,
Wide yawns a gulph beside a ragged thorn;
Bricks line the fides, but fhivered long ago,
And horrid brambles intertwine below;
A hollow fcooped, I judge in ancient time,
For baking earth, or burning rock to lime.
X

VOL. II.

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 hand, the mellow leaves away; But corn was housed, and beans were in the stack, Now therefore iffued 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 deftiny fevere,

Though ears fhe gave me two, gave me no ear.
The fun, accomplishing his early march,
His lamp now planted on heaven's topmost arch,
When, exercife and air my only aim,

And heedlefs whither, to that field İ 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; fome with soft bosom preffed

The herb as foft, while nibbling ftrayed the reft; Nor noife was heard but of the hafty brook, Struggling, detained in many a petty nook.

* Two woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Efq.

All feemed fo peaceful, that from them conveyed To me, their peace by kind contagion spread.

But when the huntfman, with diftended cheek, 'Gan make his instrument of music speak,

And from within the wood that crafh was heard, Though not a hound from whom it burft appeared, The fheep recumbent, and the theep that grazed, All huddling into phalanx, stood and gazed, Admiring, terrified, the novel ftrain,

Then courfed the field around, and coursed it round again;

But, recollecting with a sudden thought,

That flight in circles urged advanced them nought,
They gathered close around the old pit's brink,
And thought again-but knew not what to think.
The man to folitude accustomed long,
Perceives in every thing that lives a tongue;"
Not animals alone, but fhrubs and trees,
Have speech for him, and understood with ease;
After long drought, when rains abundant fall,
He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all:
Knows what the freshness of their hue implies,
How glad they catch the largess of the skies;

But, with precifion nicer ftill, the mind.

He fcans of every loco motive kind;
Birds of all feather, beafts of every name,

That ferve mankind, or fhun them, wild or tame;

The looks and geftures of their griefs and fears
Have all articulation in his ears;

He spells them true by intuition's light,
And needs no gloffary to fet him right.

This truth premised was needful as a text,
To win due credence to what follows next.

Awhile they mufed; furveying every face,
Thou hadst fuppofed them of superior race;
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combined,
Stamped on each countenance such marks of mind,
That fage they feemed, as lawyers o'er à doubt,
Which, puzzling long, at laft hey puzzle out;
Or academic tutors, teaching youths,

Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;
When thus a mutton, ftatelier than the reft,
A ram, the ewes and wethers fad, addreffed.
Friends! we have lived too long. I never heard
Sounds fuch as thefe, fo worthy to be feared.
Could I believe that winds for ages pent

In earth's dark womb have found at last a vent,