University of Virginia Library

THE THRUSH.

Near Hoggrove's rugged steep, beneath a shade,
By sterile box and gay laburnums made,
I sat reclin'd; 'twas at that happy time
When golden fields bespeak the corn in prime;
When health-crown'd rusticks ease each well-stor'd land,
And leasers follow by divine command:
'Twas then I musing sat, and free from care,
Tasting the pleasures of autumnal air;
While solemn Silence reign'd in sov'reign state,
Where tranquil Rest and Peace divine await
As her attendants: near this pleasing scene
A grove appear'd, drest in delightful green,
Wherein the airy songsters warbling lay,
Chaunted their pæans each return of day;
Instructing man his wand'ring thoughts to raise,
And gratefully set forth his Maker's praise.
The choristers had now their tribute paid
With tuneful song, in pleasure all array'd,
Hopp'd careless up and down from spray to spray,
Sweetly regaling on the luscious pea:
Or else in plucking from each loaded tree,
The currant's juice, or much lov'd gooseberry.
A sprightly Thrush, the foremost in the choir,
Unto a lofty pear-tree did aspire:
The hawk had long beheld him with despite,
But close-clipt wings restrain'd his tow'ring flight;
Unus'd to pity, when in prime of youth,
And now, sworn foe to innocence and truth,
Unto the Lady of the grove convey'd
Malicious tales, and to her thus he said:

Great Madam, —

These words a forward youth perform'd with speed,
With Mischief prim'd, he made the warblers bleed:
With fatal aim, of life depriv'd the Thrush,
And dealt his murders round to ev'ry bush.
Thus, when those in employ with haste engage,
Oft virtue suffers by their brutal rage:
And thus young Allen, by a rash command,
And by as rash a Scotch obedient hand,
Receiv'd his fate within fair Freedom's land.
Disorder and Confusion trembling came,
Dismay'd Amazement seiz'd their savage frame:
The Dryads mourn'd in most dejected strain,
To lose the songsters of their leafy reign,
Who flew, by flocks, into the boxen-tree,
Lamenting loss of joy and liberty.
But the young Thrush's fate was most deplor'd,
Whose virtuous theme had made him much ador'd:
His hapless dam now sat with pensive breast;
Near her, her mate in melancholy drest:
Hard by, the blackbird's solitary air
Too plainly told, that sorrow reigned there;
While finches, wrens, and robins perch'd around
With drooping wings, in silent grief profound.
At length speech burst from the afflicted dam:
My much-wrong'd friends, alas! the blameless lamb
Is daily made a victim, yet man pleads
He was design'd to satisfy his needs:
Admit his plea in that, what vain pretence
To murder mine; is this his boasted sense?
His plea to reason, which he calls divine,
Are these the realms where truth and justice shine?
What tho' she is the mistress of the grove,
Oh hateful thought! where my endearing love,
The only pledge of five young nestlings rear'd,
Receiv'd his fate, which all my joys impair'd.
She should have strove to save a helpless band,
By sending Prudence with her dread command;
To sift the artful tale her slave preferr'd,
Who long had fix'd his hatred on the bird:
But when false sycophants infect the ear,
My sad companions, think the danger near.
She could no more, when thus her mate began:
And must we yet be slaves to tyrant man?
Oh had my loss been but a private cause!
Or, had my son dy'd for subverting laws!
Tho' in his prime, to speak I had not deign'd,
But my affliction in my breast contain'd.
Nature has form'd us for man's joyous mirth,
And in return, the blessings of the earth
She has bestow'd on us; reptiles and fruits
Are our just claim, and what belong to brutes:
When any of those rights invaded be,
The law of Nature bids us to be free.
Therefore my judgment is, without delay,
To send forth deputies, free from dismay,
Unto our lady; and the rook and crow,
Let them be chose to represent our woe.
His speech was crown'd with chirruping applause,
For all were zealous in so just a cause.
A finch and wren unto the woods were sent,
To tell the deputies of their intent;
Which, when they heard, with flapping wings they flew
In haste, such happiness appear'd in view:
Skimming the airy space, they soon arriv'd
Near to the grove of which they were depriv'd:
But yet their hospitable boxen-seat
Still gave relief to their distressed state.
The deputies arriv'd, the mournful Thrush
Thus said: All ye the chaunters of each bush,
In this extreme most seriously advise;
The blackbird interrupts: Oh! should there spies
Here shelter take, for such pernicious ends,
As disunite the counsels of our friends!
And then sets forth in adulating strain,
That our attempts against the hawk are vain;
Would not our resolution meet dismay?
And thus distracted, fall an easy prey!
Searching, they found a lapwing had, unseen,
Crept in a yew, that had a fav'rite been;
Yet, by ill management, had been cashier'd,
And now, with treach'ry, for advancement steer'd.
Knowing this traytor, and that his intent
Was still to keep the choir in banishment;
And wanted, by base means, to reinstate
Himself in favour with the hawk so great,
They instant sent him to a distant plain:
And that Sedition never should arraign
Them of intention to subvert the laws,
Duteous Loyalty with loud Applause
Straitway proceeded, join'd by Caution great,
And thus the charge to th'agents did relate:

Much honour'd Dame, —

This was the charge the feather'd songsters gave,
When those deputed instantly took leave;
And forthwith flew into the grove forlorn,
From whence the chaunters had so late been torn.
Oppression, with his iron rod, had made
It his retreat, and now demanded aid
Of Violence and Wrong, to stem the storm
Of injur'd Right's to them most horrid form:
While soothing Flattery's infectious flame,
Thought to consume the warblers loyal theme;
But all their wiles were quash'd like drops of rain,
Which, when they once are fall'n, none can regain.
Thus have I seen pale Famine's meagre cheek
Use Riot's turbulent relief to seek;
Unbinding Property's most sacred laws,
Nor could it rescued be from Hunger's jaws;
But when stern Justice rear'd her upright head,
Self-judging Guilt them told that Hope was fled:
Tho' pleading famish'd Want's unhappy state
Compassion mov'd, but Justice seal'd their fate.
And shall those then abound, who pay their court
To Rapine's lawless shrine, and daily sport
With poor men's ancient rights? Shall such vile crimes
Receive the sanction of these virtuous times?
Shall Famine's sons their lives to Justice yield;
And those remain, who joining field to field
Distress increase, regardless of that woe
Pronounc'd on those who thus with mischief flow?
Shall Vengeance now retard her winged flight,
While such vile maxims vicious men delight?
Oh! Patience haste, thy balmy influence shed,
And stop Destruction's all-devouring head:
Send Hope to comfort the now wretched poor,
Dying thro' want in midst of plenteous store.
Say that Calamity here soon shall end,
Nor be dismay'd, for they have yet a friend,
Who instant can their foes to ruin send.
The Lady, walking in the grove, then view'd
The num'rous ills of anger unsubdu'd,
While sad Confusion, Folly to upbraid,
Withdrew, and left her in Grief's lonesome shade.
Thus pensive and afflicted, Reason came
And thus address'd her: Hear, O much-wrong'd dame!
Let Prudence be your guide, recall in haste
The banish'd chaunters to their native place.
She paus'd; when those deputed, who had seen,
From walnut-tree, her agitated mein,
Flew down, and with submission did present
The charge: she read, and soon appear'd content.
With pleasing rays, while Mercy ever kind,
To those in charge beam'd forth her godlike mind.
Go forth, said she, and bring the warbling train,
Tell them that Nature's rights shall e'er remain;
Yea, tell them, Justice most severe shall fall
On her offenders, be they great or small.
In haste they flew unto the feather'd state,
With glowing breasts and happiness complete!
Like to a culprit whom laws won't relieve,
Until the sov'reign grants him a reprieve;
When under sentence, all his pleasure dies,
But when revers'd, joy gushes from his eyes.
E'en so the choristers dejected sate,
Expecting confirmation of their fate;
Until the deputies, with gladsom hearts,
Remove their useless fears; then pleasure starts
From all their trilling breasts: with quiv'ring wings
Each now exhorts his mate to joy, and sings
This happy chorus: All ye warblers love,
Honour, obey, the Lady of the Grove.