 | The Works of Mr. Henry Needler |  |
On the DEATH of LESBIA's Green-Bird.
Ah hapless Bird! has then untimely DeathSilenc'd thy Throat, and stopp'd thy tuneful Breath?
No more thy Plumes their faded Verdure boast,
Dim are thy little Eyes, and all their Lustre lost!
No longer must thy chearful Notes delight
Fair Lesbia's Ear; thy beauteous Form, her Sight;
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Fresh Food for Thee, and fragrant Greens prepare,
Whilst flutt'ring Wings and brisker Chirps confess
Thy rising Joy, and grateful Thanks express.
Proud to be tended by a Hand so fair,
Well-pleas'd Thou Loss of Liberty cou'd'st bear,
Nor envy'd'st other Birds, that range in open Air.
Thee, chief Musician of her feather'd Quire,
Fair Lesbia held, Thee most she did admire:
Oft' wou'd she praise thy sweet harmonious Lay,
And listen to thy Song the live-long Day.
Moan all ye Birds of Lesbia's Consort, moan
In doleful Notes your warbling Partner gone:
Let Wreaths of Night-shade and of baleful Yeugh
Each Cage adorn, or Sprigs of Cypress strew.
This Theme let every tender Poet chuse;
Let Lesbia's Loss employ each gentle Muse;
Henceforth let None Corinna's Parrot name,
But Lesbia's Green-Bird fill the Trump of Fame.
| The Works of Mr. Henry Needler | |