Conversations introducing poetry chiefly on subjects of natural history. For the use of children and young persons. By Charlotte Smith |
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ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL IN LOCH TURIT.
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 | Conversations introducing poetry |  |
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ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL IN LOCH TURIT.
A WILD SCENE AMONG THE HILLS OF OUGHTER-TYRE.
George.—
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your watry haunts forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billows shock.
For me your watry haunts forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billows shock.
Conscious, blushing for our race,
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace;
Man, your proud usurping foe,
Would-be lord of all below—
Plumes himself in Freedom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.
The Eagle from the cliffy brow,
Marking you his prey below,
In his breast no pity dwells,
Strong necessity compels.
But Man, to whom, alone is given
A ray direct from pitying Heaven,
Glories in his heart humane,
And creatures for his pleasure slain.
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace;
Man, your proud usurping foe,
Would-be lord of all below—
Plumes himself in Freedom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.
88
Marking you his prey below,
In his breast no pity dwells,
Strong necessity compels.
But Man, to whom, alone is given
A ray direct from pitying Heaven,
Glories in his heart humane,
And creatures for his pleasure slain.
In these savage liquid plains,
Only known to wandering swains,
Where the mossy rivulet strays,
Far from human haunts and ways;
All on Nature you depend,
And life's poor season peaceful spend.
Only known to wandering swains,
Where the mossy rivulet strays,
Far from human haunts and ways;
All on Nature you depend,
And life's poor season peaceful spend.
Or if Man's superior might,
Dare invade your native right,
On the lofty ether borne,
Man with all his powers you scorn;
Swiftly seek on clanging wings,
Other lakes and other springs,
And the foe you cannot brave,
Scorn at least to be his slave.
Dare invade your native right,
On the lofty ether borne,
Man with all his powers you scorn;
Swiftly seek on clanging wings,
Other lakes and other springs,
And the foe you cannot brave,
Scorn at least to be his slave.
| Conversations introducing poetry | |