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Poems

By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes

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THE POOR SPARROW OF THE INFIRMARY, 1800.
  
  
  
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230

THE POOR SPARROW OF THE INFIRMARY, 1800.

His fluttering prey, amid this dome
Impetuous to pursue,
Thro' the long airy-window'd room
The bird of rapine flew.
While scarce descried, on pinions fleet
The tyrant glanc'd away;
Affrighted, crouching at my feet,
A feeble sparrow lay.
Far off, the aërial murderer sail'd
To scatter deadly fear
But lo, the little trembler hail'd
A sure asylum here.

231

Thus, the dread minister of fate
Intent his rage to wreak
On human kind, to each retreat
Pursues the faint and weak.
Yet, if amidst these walls, perchance,
He catch the patient's eyes;
Scarce is he seen, with sudden glance,
When off disarm'd he flies.
What tho' he stretch the bloody fang?
Here, here his threats are vain;
The sick forgetting every pang—
The wounded, every pain!