 | The poetical works of George Keate |  |
73
TO A LADY; FROM HER DEAD BULLFINCH.
Why does my Mistress mourn my fate?
Or murmur at my alter'd state?
Escap'd from that diurnal care
Which Birds, like other mortals, share;
No more a slave to Hope and Sorrow,
The poor Dependent on to-morrow!—
When I look back on life, I view
Nothing to raise regret, but You.
A little trifling part I play'd,
From infancy a captive made;
Your love alone could solace me,
And balance loss of Liberty!—
The grateful tribute from your eye,
The fond remembrance, pitying sigh!
Since such a lot to me is given,
I envy not the Bird of Heav'n.
Or murmur at my alter'd state?
Escap'd from that diurnal care
Which Birds, like other mortals, share;
No more a slave to Hope and Sorrow,
The poor Dependent on to-morrow!—
When I look back on life, I view
Nothing to raise regret, but You.
A little trifling part I play'd,
From infancy a captive made;
74
And balance loss of Liberty!—
The grateful tribute from your eye,
The fond remembrance, pitying sigh!
Since such a lot to me is given,
I envy not the Bird of Heav'n.
But, gentle Maid, tho' life seems fled,
I'm only in appearance dead;
In Greece a Sage did once maintain
That bodies die, but souls remain,
And without any creature seeing,
Slip into some new kind of being,
Compell'd to gain a safe retreat
In the first lifeless Form they meet.
I'm only in appearance dead;
In Greece a Sage did once maintain
That bodies die, but souls remain,
And without any creature seeing,
Slip into some new kind of being,
Compell'd to gain a safe retreat
In the first lifeless Form they meet.
Thus I, pursuant to his plan,
Tho' late a Bird, am now a Man;
Snug in the body of a Beau,
I flutter round where'er you go;
For ever ready at your Call
To deal the cards, or join the ball.
A light, fantastic, merry thing,
As usual, always on the wing,
I'll cherup at all public places,
Toast you as fairer than the Graces,
And dangle, flirt, protest, and sue,
As other pretty fellows do.
Tho' late a Bird, am now a Man;
75
I flutter round where'er you go;
For ever ready at your Call
To deal the cards, or join the ball.
A light, fantastic, merry thing,
As usual, always on the wing,
I'll cherup at all public places,
Toast you as fairer than the Graces,
And dangle, flirt, protest, and sue,
As other pretty fellows do.
And haply if on me should shine
Those smiles which once were wholly mine,
Would you caress me, now prefer'd,
As you caress'd me when a Bird,
Grant, Heav'n! I may a Man remain,
And never change my Form again!
Those smiles which once were wholly mine,
Would you caress me, now prefer'd,
As you caress'd me when a Bird,
Grant, Heav'n! I may a Man remain,
And never change my Form again!
| The poetical works of George Keate | |