The songster heard this short oration,
And warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else!
Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Their real interest to discern;

That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other:
But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life's poor transient night is spent,
Respecting in each other's case
The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,
Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

ON A GOLDFINCH,

STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.

TIME was when I was free as air,
The thistle's downy seed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;
I perched at will on every spray,
My form genteel, my plumage gay,
My strains for ever new.

But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
And form genteel, were all in vain,

And of a transient date;

For caught, and caged, and starved to death, 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;
More cruelty could none express;
And I, if you had shown me less,
Had been your prisoner still.

THE PINE-APPLE AND BEE. THE pine-apples, in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow; A bee of most discerning taste, Perceived the fragrance as he passed, On eager wing the spoiler came, And searched for crannies in the frame, Urged his attempt on every side, To every pane his trunk applied; But still in vain, the frame was tight, And.only pervious to the light; Thus having wasted half the day, He trimmed his flight another way. Methinks, I said, in thee I find The sin and madness of mankind.

To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.
While Cynthio ogles, as she passes,
The nymph between two chariot glasses,
She is the pine-apple, and he

The silly unsuccessful bee.

The maid, who views with pensive air
The show-glass fraught with glittering ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But sighs at thought of empty pockets;
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah, the cruel glass between!
Our dear delights are often such,
Exposed to view, but not to touch;
The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine-apples in frames;
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass and cuts his fingers:
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. BOOK II. ODE X.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach
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
Imbittering all his state.

The tallest pines feel most the power
Of winter blasts; the loftiest tower

Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

The well-informed philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesome fear,

And hopes, in spite of pain;
If Winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth,
And Nature laughs again.

What if thine heaven be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last;
Expect a brighter sky.

The God that strings the silver bow,
Awakes sometimes the muses too,
And lays his arrows by.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen; But O! if fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvass in.

REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE.

AND 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.

THE LILY AND THE ROSE.
THE nymph must lose her female friend,
If more admired than she-
But where will fierce contention end,
If flowers can disagree?

Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appeared two lovely foes
Aspiring to the rank of queen
The Lily and the Rose.

The Rose soon reddened into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appealed to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.

The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower;

She seemed designed for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her power.

This civil bickering and debate

The goddess chanced to hear, And flew to save, ere yet too late,

The pride of the parterre.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
And, till a third surpasses you,

Let each be deemed a queen.

Thus, soothed and reconciled, each seeks

The fairest British fair:

The seat of empire is her checks,
They reign united there.

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. HEU inimicitias quotics parit æmula forma, Quam raro pulchræ pulchra placere potest

Sed fines ultra solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.

Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessus,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas;
Hic sibi regalis Amaryllis candida cultus,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.

Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt,
Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu,
Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatum,
Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.

Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,

Ceu flores inter non habitura parem, Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus

Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.

Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixa,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes,
Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,
Dum licet et locus est, ut tucatur, adest.

Et tibi forma datur procerior omnibus, inquit;
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color;
Et donec vincat quædam formosior ambas,
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.

His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham,
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;
Hancpenes imperium est, nihil optant amplius,
hujus

Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.

"Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man:
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.*

IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.
POPULÆ cecidet gratissima copia silvæ,
Conticuere susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra.
Nulle jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ,
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.

Hei mihi! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos,
His cogor silvis suetoque carrere recessu,
Cum sero rediens, stratasque in gramine cernens,
Insedi arboribus, sub queis errare solebam.

Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.

Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et prius huic parilis quàm creverit altera silva
Flebor, et, exquiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidum tumulique cubantis acervum.

Tam subito periisse videns tam digna manere,
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata-
Sit licit ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiusque obitura voluptas.

VOTUM.

O MATUTINI rores auræque salubres,

O nemora, et læta rivis felicibus herbæ,
Graminei colles, et amœnæ in vallibus umbræ!
Fata modò dederint quas olim in rure paterno
Delicias, procul arte, formidine novi.

Quàm vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper avebat,

Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senectam,

Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis,
Sortiri tacitum lapidem, aut sub cespite condi!

TRANSLATION OF

PRIOR'S CHLOE AND EUPHELIA. MERCATOR, vigiles oculos ut fallere possit,

Nomine sub ficto trans mare mittit opes;

Mr. Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the following manner:

The change both my heart and my fancy employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys;

Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.

Lené sonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordis, Sed solam exoptant te, mea vota, Chloe.

Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphelia crines, Cum dixit mea lux, Heus, cane, sume lyram, Namque lyram juxta positam cum carmine vidit, Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram.

Fila lyra vocemque paro suspiria surgunt,

Et miscent numeris murmura mosta meis, Dumque tuæ memora laudes, Euphelia forma, Tota anima interia pendet ab ore Chloes.

Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem,
Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo;
Atque Cupidinea dixit Dea cincta corona,
Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.

THE DIVERTING

HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.

Showing how he went farther than he intended, and came safe home again.

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

To-morrow is our wedding day,

And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton

All in a chaise and pair.

My sister, and my sister's child,

Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we.

He soon replied, I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.

I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go.

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
O'erjoyed was he to find,

That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allowed

To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were ever folks so glad,
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side

Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got in haste to ride,

But soon came down again:

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
His journey. to begin,
When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time,

Although it grieved him sore; Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers

Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!"

Good lack! quoth he-yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword,
When I do exercise.

Now mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.

Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be

Equipped from top to toe,

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat He manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed,

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which galled him in his seat.

So, fair and softly, John he cried, But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon,

In spite of curb or rein.

So stooping down, as needs he must,
Who can not sit upright,

He grasped the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got,
Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig;

He little dreamt, when he sat out,
Of running such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
Like streamers long and gay,
Till loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side,

As hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all;

And every soul cried out, Well done!
As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin-who but he?
His fame soon spread around,
He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound!

And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view,
How in a trice the turnpike men

Their gates wide open threw.

And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Where shattered at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road,

Most piteous to be seen,

Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced;
For all might see the bottles' necks
Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play,
Until he came into the Wash

Of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the wash about.

On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife

From the balcony spied

Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.

Stop, stop, John Gilpin!-Here's the house-
They all aloud did cry;

The dinner waits and we are tired;
Said Gilpin-So am I!

But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there;
For why?-his owner had a house
Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he flew,

Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly-which brings me to
The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin out of breath,

And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.

The calender, amazed to see

His neighbour in such trim,

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him:

What news? what news? your tidings tell;

Tell me you must and shall

Say why bareheaded you are come,
Or why you come at all?

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

And loved a timely joke;

And thus unto the calender

In merry guise he spoke:

I came because your horse would come;
And, if I well forebode,

My hat and wig will soon be here,
They are upon the road.

The calender right glad to find

His friend in merry pin,

Returned him not a single word,
But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig;
A wig that flowed behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,

Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn
That showed his ready wit,
My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.

But let me scrape the dirt away,
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.

Said John, it is my wedding-day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware.

So turning to his horse he said,

I am in haste to dine;

"Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine.

Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear;
For, while he spoke, a braying ass

Did sing most loud and clear;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar,
And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went Gilpin's hat and wig:
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why?-they were too big.
Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her hushand posting down
Into the country far away,

She pulled out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth she said,

That drove them to the Bell,

This shall be yours, when you bring back
My husband safe and well.

The youth did ride and soon did meet

John coming back amain;

Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.