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KINSMAN belov'd and as a son, by me !
When I behold this fruit of thy regard,
The sculptur'd form of my old fap'rite bard,
Wise men and learn'd, who grudge not to reward
Witn some applause my bold attempt and hard,
I loose my precious years now soon to fail,
Proves dross, when balanc'd in the Christian scalo,
A YOUNG FRIEND,
Llis arriving at Cambridge wet, when nc rain had
[ May, 1793.]
IF Gideon's fleece, which drench'd with dew lie
In Scotland's realm where trees are few,
Nor even shrubs abound;
Some better things are found.
For husband there and wife may boast
Their union undefil'd.
As hedge-rows in the wild.
In Scotland's realm, forlorn and bare,
The hist'ry chanc'd of lato This hist'ry of a wedded pair,
A chaffinch and his mate.
The spring drew near, each felt a breast
With genial instinct fillid; They pair'd and would have built a nost,
But found not where to build.
The heath uncover'd, and the moors,
Except with snow and sleet, Sea-beaten rocks, and naked shores
Could yield them no retreat.
Long time a breeding-place they sought,
Till both grew vex'd and tir'd ; At length a ship arriving, brought
The good so long desir'd.
A ship ! could such a restless thing
Afford them place of rest ?
The homeless birds a nest ?
Hush-silent hearers profit most
This racer of the sea
It servd them with a Tree.
But such a tree !,'twas shaven deal,
The tree they call a Mast, And had a hollow with a wheel
Through which the tackle pass'd.
Within that cavity aloft,
Their roofless home they fix'd, Form'd with materials neat and soft,
Bents, wool, and feathers mix'd.
Four iv'ry eggs soon pave its floor;
With russet specks bedightThe vessel weighs, forsakes the shore
And lessens to the sight.
The mother-bird is gone to sea
As she had chang’d her kind ; But goes
the male ? Far wiser, he Is doubtless left behind ?
No-soon as from ashore he saw
The winged mansion move, He flew to reach it, by & law
Of never failing love.
Then perching at his consort's side,
Was briskly borne along,' The billows and the blast defied,
And cheer'd her with a song.
The seaman with sincere delight,
His feather'd shipmates eyes, Scarce lest exulting in the sight
Than when he tows a prize.
For seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so new, Each some approaching good divinom,
And may his hopes be true !
Hail honour'd land! a desert where
Not even birds can hide, Yet parent of this loving pair
Whom nothing could divide.
And ye who, rather than resign
Your matrimonial plan,
In company with Man.
For whose lean country much disdain
We English often show,
But wantonness and wo.
Be it your fortune, year by year,
The same resource to prove,
Instruct us how to love!
This Tale is founded on an article of intelligence which the
Author found in the Buckinghamshire Herald, for Saturday, June 1, 1793, in the following words.
Glasgow, May 23. In a block, or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, new lying at the Broomielaw, there is a chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the hen never leaves it but when she descends to the hull for food.