 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
On the Death of a favourite Nightingale.
Thou sweetest Warbler of the gladsome Spring,
Whose trilling Musick charm'd th'attentive Ear,
No more thy tuneful Throat shall joyful sing
An early Welcome to the Infant Year.
Whose trilling Musick charm'd th'attentive Ear,
No more thy tuneful Throat shall joyful sing
An early Welcome to the Infant Year.
No more, alas! shall thy inspiring Flow
Beguile the Moments of the Midnight Hour,
What Time the Branches bend beneath the Snow,
And Birds for Safety seek the shadeless Bow'r.
Beguile the Moments of the Midnight Hour,
What Time the Branches bend beneath the Snow,
And Birds for Safety seek the shadeless Bow'r.
Can I forget the Musick of thy Tongue,
Which spread around such high harmonious Airs,
When circling Measures in the Portal rung,
And lofty Echo fill'd the sounding Stairs.
Which spread around such high harmonious Airs,
When circling Measures in the Portal rung,
And lofty Echo fill'd the sounding Stairs.
When dappl'd Cloe from the Hearthstone gaz'd;
The vanquish'd Linnet sadly silent stands;
And little George himself look'd up amaz'd,
The Soop dish shaking in his heedless Hands.
The vanquish'd Linnet sadly silent stands;
And little George himself look'd up amaz'd,
The Soop dish shaking in his heedless Hands.
65
When Dublin Molly busy in the Bar,
With Wonder listen'd to his charming Lay,
Then bless'd her happy Fate who came so far
To hear him sweetly sing, from Aston's Quay.
With Wonder listen'd to his charming Lay,
Then bless'd her happy Fate who came so far
To hear him sweetly sing, from Aston's Quay.
Nor could the Poet's Tongue his Praise forbear,
Who often came to hear his Strains divine;
And in his Cups would candidly declare,
His Notes were sweeter than the tuneful Nine.
Who often came to hear his Strains divine;
And in his Cups would candidly declare,
His Notes were sweeter than the tuneful Nine.
Thus jovial danc'd the smiling Hours away,
When Philomela gave such true Delight;
Good Humour chear'd the short thick-clouded Day,
And Punch and Pleasure crown'd the live-long Night.
When Philomela gave such true Delight;
Good Humour chear'd the short thick-clouded Day,
And Punch and Pleasure crown'd the live-long Night.
But Fate, alas! forbade our growing Joys;
What human Happiness can always last?
Relentless Fate, which ev'ry Life destroys,
At Philly's Breast his lifted Jav'lin cast.
What human Happiness can always last?
Relentless Fate, which ev'ry Life destroys,
At Philly's Breast his lifted Jav'lin cast.
Could no Delight his mortal Wrath asswage,
Nor Musick's Pow'r his pointed Dart withstand?
In vain, alas! Clarinda clean'd the Cage;
In vain she fed him with her milk-white Hand.
Nor Musick's Pow'r his pointed Dart withstand?
In vain, alas! Clarinda clean'd the Cage;
In vain she fed him with her milk-white Hand.
How Gladness danc'd within his little Eyes,
Still as he saw her decent Cap and Gown,
As up the Steps she gently us'd to rise,
And in his high-hung House she took him down.
Still as he saw her decent Cap and Gown,
As up the Steps she gently us'd to rise,
And in his high-hung House she took him down.
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How tenderly she stroak'd his Neck and Bill,
How softly touch'd his taper Legs and Claws,
With lenient Finger sooth'd each smarting Ill,
And gently heal'd his little Hurts and Flaws.
How softly touch'd his taper Legs and Claws,
With lenient Finger sooth'd each smarting Ill,
And gently heal'd his little Hurts and Flaws.
But thou, fell Wretch, that in the open Street
With savage Hand our frighted Songster struck,
Mayst thou with screaming Screech-Owls nightly meet,
With boding Batts, with Bailiffs, and bad Luck.
With savage Hand our frighted Songster struck,
Mayst thou with screaming Screech-Owls nightly meet,
With boding Batts, with Bailiffs, and bad Luck.
May braying Asses, Bitterns from the Mire,
And croaking Ravens, haunt thee all thy Life:
May baleful Cats and cack'lng Hens conspire,
And what's more dreadful still, a scolding Wife.
And croaking Ravens, haunt thee all thy Life:
May baleful Cats and cack'lng Hens conspire,
And what's more dreadful still, a scolding Wife.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |