Look up your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds-that pleases him, He chooses it the rather.

III.

Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree-show
That occupy mankind below,
Secure, and at his ease.

IV.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.

No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.

V.

He sees, that this great roundabout-
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs, and its bus'nesses,

Is no concern at all of his,

And says-what says he?-Caw.

VI.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men;

And, sick of having seen 'em,

Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em.

III. THE CRICKET.

1.

LITTLE inmate, full of mirth,
Chirping on my kitchen hearth,
Wheresoe'er be thine abode,
Always harbinger of good,
Pay me for thy warm retreat
With a song more soft and sweet;
In return thou shalt receive
Such a strain as I can give.

11.

Thus thy praise shall be exprest,
Inoffensive, welcome guest!
While the rat is on the scout,
And the mouse with curious snout,
With what vermin else infest

Ev'ry dish, and spoil the best;
Frisking thus before the fire,

Thou hast all thine heart's desire.

III.

Though in voice and shape they be

Form'd as if akin to thee,

Thou surpassest, happier far,

Happiest grasshoppers that are ;

Theirs is but a summer's song,
Thine endures the winter long,
Unimpair'd and shrill and clear,
Melody throughout the year.

IV.

Neither night, nor dawn of day,
Puts a period to thy play :
Sing then-and extend thy span
Far beyond the date of man.
Wretched man, whose years are spent
In repining discontent,

Lives not, aged though he be,
Half a span, compar'd with thee.

IV. THE PARROT.

I.

IN painted plumes superbly drest,
A native of the gorgeous east,
By many a billow tost;

Poll gains at length the British shore,
Part of the captain's precious store-
A present to his toast.

II.

Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd

To teach him now and then a word,
As Poll can master it ;

But 'tis her own important charge

To qualify him more at large,

And make him quite a wit.

111.

Sweet Poll! his doting mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies,

And calls aloud for sack.

She next instructs him in the kiss 'Tis now a little one, like Miss, And now a hearty smack.

IV.

At first he aims at what he hears;
And, list'ning close with both his ears,
Just catches at the sound;
But soon articulates aloud,

Much to th' amusement of the crowd,
And stuns the neighbours round.

V.

A querulous old woman's voice
His hum'rous talent next employs-
He scolds, and gives the lie.

And now he sings, and now is sick-
Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick;
Poor Poll is like to die!

VI.

Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare

To meet with such a well-match'd pair,

The language and the tone,

Each character in ev'ry part

Sustain'd with so much

And both in unison.

VII.

When children first begin to spell,
And stammer out a syllable,

We think them tedious creatures;
But difficulties soon abate,

When birds are to be taught to prate,
And women are the teachers.

THE SHRUBBERY.

WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.

I.

OH, happy shades-to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me!

How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree!

II.

This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
Those alders quiv'ring to the breeze,
Might sooth a soul less hurt than mine,
And please, if any thing could please.

But fix'd unalterable care

Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness ev'ry where, And slights the season and the scene.

IV.

For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While peace possess'd these silent bow'rs,