ON A GOLDFINCH, STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE. * IME was when I was free as air, But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, And of a transient date; 5 For caught and caged, and starved to death, 10 In dying sighs my little breath Soon passed the wiry grate. Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes, And thanks for this effectual close And cure of every ill! 15 *Poems, Ed. 1782, p. 329. Written in the summer of 1780; see letter to Unwin, 9th November, 1780, containing a copy of these lines, Addit. MS. Brit. Mus. 24, 154, fol. 49. THE PINEAPPLE AND THE BEE.* HE Pineapples, in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow; On eager wing the spoiler came, And searched for crannies in the frame, 10 15 And disappointment all the fruit. While Cynthio ogles, as she passes, The nymph between two chariot glasses, 20 The silly unsuccessful Bee. The maid who views with pensive air The show-glass fraught with glittering ware, 25 Poems, Ed. 1782, p. 330. Written about September, 1779; see letter to Hill of 2nd October in that year. But sighs at thought of empty pockets; HORACE, BOOK II. ODE X.* ECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach, Of adverse fortune's power; Not always tempt the distant deep, Nor always timorously creep Along the treacherous shore. He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, * Poems, Ed. 1782, p. 332. 5 10 The tallest pines feel most the power * Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower The bolts that spare the mountain's side The well-informed philosopher Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth, What if thine Heaven be overcast, The God that strings the silver bow If hindrances obstruct thy way, And let thy strength be seen; * "Blasts," Ed. 1782, altered to "blast" in Ed. 1786, but restored in the next edition, and printed "blasts" in subsequent editions, except Southey's. A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE.* ND is this all? Can Reason do no more Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore? Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough sea, The Christian has an art unknown to thee: He holds no parley with unmanly fears; Where Duty bids he confidently steers, Faces a thousand dangers at her call, And trusting in his God, surmounts them all. 5 THE LILY AND THE ROSE.† HE nymph must lose her female friend, But where will fierce contention end, Within the garden's peaceful scene Appeared two lovely foes, Aspiring to the rank of Queen, The Lily and the Rose. * Poems, Ed. 1782, p. 334. 5 † Ibid, p. 322. A copy in Cowper's handwriting is in MS. Addit. Brit. Mus. 24,155, fol. 151. |