The BIRD of Passage, 1749.
By the Same.
I
Grown sick of crowds and noise,
To peaceful rural joys
Good Bellmont from the town retires,
Miss Harriet seeks the shade,
And looks the country maid,
And artfully his taste admires.
II
Their sympathizing themes
Of lawns, and shades, and streams,
Were all they sung, and all they said.
The music sweet he finds
Of well-according minds,
And loves the perfect rural mind.
III
His honest pure desires
Not fed by vicious fires,
Suggest to speak his flame betimes:
But, scarce his passion known,
This Passage-Bird is flown
To warmer air, and brighter climes.
IV
From shades to crowded rooms,
From flow'rs to dead perfumes—
The season calls—she must away,
'Tis then alone she lives,
When she in riot gives
To routs the night, to sleep the day.
V
He follows her enrag'd,
And finds her deep engag'd
At crafty Crib and brazen Brag:
He hears her betting high,
He sees her slur the die—
He takes his boots, and mounts his nag.
