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Which kindly given, may serve with food
S in her ancient mistress' lap
The youthful tabby lay,
They gave each other many a tap, Alike disposed to play.
But strife ensues. Puss waxes warın,
And with protruded claws
Mere wantonness the cause.
At once, resentful of the deed,
She shakes her to the ground
many a threat that she shall bleed With still a deeper wound. .
But, Lydia, bid thy fury rest:
It was a venial stroke:
Should bear a kitten's joke,
INVITATION TO THE REDBREAST.
WEET bird, whom the winter con
And feldom another it can
man, Who never can seem to intrude,
Though in all places equally free, Come, oft as the season is rude,
Thou art sure to be welcome to me.
At sight of the first feeble ray
That pierces the clouds of the east, To inveigle thee every day
My windows shall show thee a feast. For, taught by experience, I know
Thee mindful of benefit long; And that, thankful for all I bestow,
Thou wilt pay me with many a song.
Then, soon as the swell of the buds
Bespeaks the renewal of spring,
Or.where it shall please thee to sing:
Come again to my window or door, Doubt not an affectionate host,
Only pay as thou paid'st me before. Thus music must needs be confess'd
To flow from a fountain above; Else how should it work in the breast
Unchangeable friendship and love? And who on the globe can be found,
Save your generation and ours, That can be delighted by sound,
Or boasts any musical powers ?
HE shepherd touch'd his reed; sweet
The numbers, echo'd note for note again. The peevish youth, who ne'er had found before
A rival of his skill, indignant heard,
In loftier tones defied the simple bird.
She dared the task, and, rising as he rose,
With all the force that passion gives inspired, Return'd the sounds awhile, but in the close
Exhausted fell, and at his feet expired.
Thus strength, not skill prevaild. O fatal strife,
By thee, poor fongstress, playfully begun; And, O sad victory, which cost thy life,
And he may wish that he had never won!
ODE ON THE DEATH OF A LADY,
Who lived One Hundred Years, and died
On her Birthday, 1728.
NCIENT dame, how wide and vast
To a race like ours appears,
We, the herd of human kind,
Frailer and of feebler powers ;
Soon exhaust the sum of ours.
Death's delicious banquet-we
Perish even from the womb,
Nourish'd but to feed the tomb.
Seeds of merciless disease
Lurk in all that we enjoy ; Some that waste us by degrees,
Some that suddenly destroy. And, if life o’erleap the bourn
Common to the fons of men, What remains, but that we mourn,
Dream, and dote, and drivel then?
Fast as moons can wax and wane
Sorrow comes; and while we groan, Pant with anguish, and complain,
Half our years are fled and gone. . If a few (to few 'tis given),
Lingering on this earthly stage, Creep and halt with steps uneven
To the period of an age, Wherefore live they, but to see
Cunning, arrogance, and force, Sights lamented much by thee,
Holding their accustom'd course? Oft was seen, in ages past,
All that we with wonder view ; Often shall be to the last;
Earth produces nothing new. Thee we gratulate, content
Should propitious Heaven design Life for us as calmly spent,
Though but half the length of thine.