Various pieces in verse and prose By the late Nathaniel Cotton. Many of which were never before published. In two volumes |
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Various pieces in verse and prose | ||
104
Addressed to a young Lady, whose favourite Bird was almost killed by a fall from her Finger.
As Tiney, in a wanton mood,
Upon his Lucy's finger stood,
Ambitious to be free;
With breast elate he eager tries,
By flight to reach the distant skies,
And gain his liberty.
Upon his Lucy's finger stood,
Ambitious to be free;
With breast elate he eager tries,
By flight to reach the distant skies,
And gain his liberty.
Ah! luckless bird, what tho' caress'd,
And fondled in the fair one's breast,
Taught e'en by her to sing;
Know that to check thy temper wild,
And make thy manners soft and mild,
Thy mistress cut thy wing.
And fondled in the fair one's breast,
Taught e'en by her to sing;
Know that to check thy temper wild,
And make thy manners soft and mild,
Thy mistress cut thy wing.
The feather'd tribe, who cleave the air,
Their weights by equal plumage bear,
And quick escape our pow'r;
Not so with Tiney, dear delight,
His shorten'd wing repress'd his flight,
And threw him on the floor.
Their weights by equal plumage bear,
And quick escape our pow'r;
Not so with Tiney, dear delight,
His shorten'd wing repress'd his flight,
And threw him on the floor.
105
Stunn'd with the fall, he seem'd to die,
For quickly clos'd his sparkling eye,
Scarce heav'd his pretty breast;
Alarmed for her favourite care,
Lucy assumes a pensive air,
And is at heart distrest.
For quickly clos'd his sparkling eye,
Scarce heav'd his pretty breast;
Alarmed for her favourite care,
Lucy assumes a pensive air,
And is at heart distrest.
The stoic soul, in gravest strain,
May call these feelings light and vain,
Which thus from fondness flow;
Yet, if the bard arightly deems,
'Tis nature's fount which feeds the streams
That purest joys bestow.
May call these feelings light and vain,
Which thus from fondness flow;
Yet, if the bard arightly deems,
'Tis nature's fount which feeds the streams
That purest joys bestow.
So, shou'd it be fair Lucy's fate,
Whene'er she wills a change of state,
To boast a mother's name;
These feelings then, thou charming maid,
In brightest lines shall be display'd,
And praise uncensur'd claim.
Whene'er she wills a change of state,
To boast a mother's name;
These feelings then, thou charming maid,
In brightest lines shall be display'd,
And praise uncensur'd claim.
Various pieces in verse and prose | ||