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Unless the world were all prepar'd t'embrace
D E A T 4
MRS. THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH.
Ye nymphs ! if e'er your eyes were red
O share Maria's grief !
Assassin'd by a thief.
Where Rhenus strays his vines among,
And though by nature mute,
Of Aagelet or flute.
The honours of his ebon poll
His bosom of the hue
To sweep up all the dew.
Above, below, in all the house,
No cat had leave to dwell;
Large built and lattic'd well.
Well-lattic’d--but the grate, alas!
For Bully's plumage sake,
The swains their baskets make.
Night veil'd the pole. All feem'd fecure.
Subsistence to provide,
And badger-colour'd hide.
He, ent’ring at the studydoor,
And something in the wind
Food, chiefly, for the mind.
Just then, by adverse fate impress’d,
In Neep he seem'd to view
Awoke and found it true.
For, aided both by ear and scent,
Ah, muse! forbear to speak
He left poor Bully's beak.
He left it-but he should have ta’en That beak, whence ifsued many a strain
Of such melliAuous tone, Might have repaid him well, I wot, For silencing so sweet a throat,
Fast fet within his own.
Maria weeps The Muses mourn-
On Thracian Hebrus' fide
The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna convey'd,
And weigh'd down its beautiful head.
The cup was all filld, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas !
I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,
Already to forrow resign'd.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloom'd with its owner a while, And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.