 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
278
Miss SALLY and the RED-BREAST.
Banish'd by Winter's churlish Sway,
The feather'd Songsters fly,
Nor longer from each waving Spray,
Resounds sweet Melody.
The feather'd Songsters fly,
Nor longer from each waving Spray,
Resounds sweet Melody.
A little Robin, hunger-pin'd,
Wing'd on to W--- Seat,
Where Hospitality refin'd
Has fix'd her lov'd Retreat.
Wing'd on to W--- Seat,
Where Hospitality refin'd
Has fix'd her lov'd Retreat.
The Window open, in he flew,
Miss Sally ey'd her Guest;
Not Robin's Self more Sweetness knew,
Or a more spotless Breast.
Miss Sally ey'd her Guest;
Not Robin's Self more Sweetness knew,
Or a more spotless Breast.
A Cake, well-plumb'd, fair Sally eat,
Playful, upon her Stool;
Her little Heart with wishes beat,
To kiss the Red-breast Fool.
Playful, upon her Stool;
Her little Heart with wishes beat,
To kiss the Red-breast Fool.
With cautious Hop and Look askance
The Stranger ey'd the Room,
Till Sally's Smiles taught him advance,
And pick the scatter'd Crumb.
The Stranger ey'd the Room,
Till Sally's Smiles taught him advance,
And pick the scatter'd Crumb.
Embolden'd now he comes more near,
And feasts beneath her Feet;
From Looks so kind what can he fear,
Or from a Voice so sweet.
And feasts beneath her Feet;
From Looks so kind what can he fear,
Or from a Voice so sweet.
279
That “Fate oft gilds his baited Snare,”
Wise was the Man who said;
A Cat fierce springing from a Chair,
Mark'd Robin with the Dead.
Wise was the Man who said;
A Cat fierce springing from a Chair,
Mark'd Robin with the Dead.
Miss Sally scream'd; the gushing Tide
Pour'd down her Angel-cheek;
Her little Bosom heav'd;—She sigh'd,
As tho' her Heart wou'd break.
Pour'd down her Angel-cheek;
Her little Bosom heav'd;—She sigh'd,
As tho' her Heart wou'd break.
Banish'd for ever from her sight,
Grimalkin's doom'd to fly;
Nor fav'rite Doll can now delight,
Or stop the rising Sigh.
Grimalkin's doom'd to fly;
Nor fav'rite Doll can now delight,
Or stop the rising Sigh.
When Pearl-ey'd Pity and soft Love
With Infant Beauty join,
Such Virtues must, when ripen'd, prove
A Being all Divine.
With Infant Beauty join,
Such Virtues must, when ripen'd, prove
A Being all Divine.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |