The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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AN ELEGY On the Death of two Goldfinches, given to the Writer by the Right
Honourable Lady Mary Leslie,
on her leaving Ireland. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
446
AN ELEGY On the Death of two Goldfinches, given to the Writer by the Right Honourable Lady Mary Leslie, on her leaving Ireland.
Adieu! O ye Favourites, so dear!
Ye pretty sweet Warblers, adieu!
No more your glad Notes shall I hear,
No more meet your Welcomes so true;
No more on my Shoulder and Head,
Free perching, my Tea shall ye sip;
No more shall ye eye me for Bread,
And snatch, with your Bills, from my Lip.
Ye pretty sweet Warblers, adieu!
No more your glad Notes shall I hear,
No more meet your Welcomes so true;
No more on my Shoulder and Head,
Free perching, my Tea shall ye sip;
No more shall ye eye me for Bread,
And snatch, with your Bills, from my Lip.
Dull Censors, ye hold it in Scorn,
From such Motives Distress should appear:
Yet, I lov'd them, and cannot but mourn;
They are dead, and I must drop a Tear.
Whoe'er shall such Feelings despise,
May act the more stoical Part,
May vaunt himself happy and wise,
But let him not boast of his Heart.
From such Motives Distress should appear:
Yet, I lov'd them, and cannot but mourn;
They are dead, and I must drop a Tear.
Whoe'er shall such Feelings despise,
May act the more stoical Part,
May vaunt himself happy and wise,
But let him not boast of his Heart.
Affection with Virtue is join'd,
It dwells with the Brave and the Free,
It warms, and ennobles the Mind,
Then, is it a Weakness in me?
If Gratitude Weakness implies,
That Weakness for ever be mine—
And the Gift for the Giver I prize;
They, lovely Maria, were thine.
It dwells with the Brave and the Free,
It warms, and ennobles the Mind,
Then, is it a Weakness in me?
447
That Weakness for ever be mine—
And the Gift for the Giver I prize;
They, lovely Maria, were thine.
At Newland,
where often I stray'd,
And often you tripp'd by my Side,
One Evening, slow winding the Glade,
In a Hawthorn the Nestlings were spy'd;
Soft Transport quick glanc'd from your Eye,
Sweet Innocence lisp'd on your Tongue;
They chirrup'd—you wish'd, with a Sigh,
To protect both the Nest and the Young.
And often you tripp'd by my Side,
One Evening, slow winding the Glade,
In a Hawthorn the Nestlings were spy'd;
Soft Transport quick glanc'd from your Eye,
Sweet Innocence lisp'd on your Tongue;
They chirrup'd—you wish'd, with a Sigh,
To protect both the Nest and the Young.
Full feather'd, they Home were convey'd—
For Honour and Freedom well known,
With a Leslie nought had they to dread,
And their Fears were soon over and gone.
At large, in your Chamber, they flew—
O! there, that 'till now they might rove!—
And fed, and attended by you,
Forgot both the Fields and the Grove.
For Honour and Freedom well known,
With a Leslie nought had they to dread,
And their Fears were soon over and gone.
At large, in your Chamber, they flew—
O! there, that 'till now they might rove!—
And fed, and attended by you,
Forgot both the Fields and the Grove.
But the Season of Sorrow drew nigh—
Far hence must their Mistress depart:
Remembrance, even now, fills my Eye,
For Maria was dear to my Heart.
And she kiss'd her poor Favourites, and cry'd,
And she begg'd, to her Birds I'd be kind;
And she much in my Care did confide,
And her Words ever liv'd in my Mind.
Far hence must their Mistress depart:
Remembrance, even now, fills my Eye,
For Maria was dear to my Heart.
And she kiss'd her poor Favourites, and cry'd,
And she begg'd, to her Birds I'd be kind;
And she much in my Care did confide,
And her Words ever liv'd in my Mind.
448
One Morn, of my Charley
bereft,
What else could from Hirelings ensue?
The Window wide open was left,
And away the dear Libertine flew.
All the Day, though 'tis strange to relate,
All the Day did he wantonly roam;
But at Eve the soft Notes of his Mate,
Recall'd the bold Fugitive Home.
What else could from Hirelings ensue?
The Window wide open was left,
And away the dear Libertine flew.
All the Day, though 'tis strange to relate,
All the Day did he wantonly roam;
But at Eve the soft Notes of his Mate,
Recall'd the bold Fugitive Home.
For Years, the sole Joy of her Heart,
Thence faithful he sung by her Side;
And at her, when cold Death flung his Dart,
He languish'd; he sicken'd; he died.
Adieu! ye Companions, so dear!
Ye pretty sweet Warblers, adieu!
No more your glad Notes shall I hear!
How rare meet Affection so true!
Thence faithful he sung by her Side;
And at her, when cold Death flung his Dart,
He languish'd; he sicken'd; he died.
Adieu! ye Companions, so dear!
Ye pretty sweet Warblers, adieu!
No more your glad Notes shall I hear!
How rare meet Affection so true!
| The Shamrock | |