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This the worst sort of artichoke,
A plant that Pluto has himself bespoke,
Nourish it well, 'tis useful treachery;
This is a choice though little seed, a lie:
Here take some now from these prodigious loads,
Of tender things that look like toads:
In future times, these, finely drest,
Shall each invade a prince's breast;
'Tis flattery seed; though thinly sown,
It is a mighty plant when grown,
When rooted deep, and fully blown;
Now see these things like bubbles fly;
These are the seeds of vanity.
Take tyrant acorns, which will best advance,
If sown in eastern climates, or in France;
But these are things of most prodigious hopes,
They're Jesuit bulbs tied up with ropes,
And these the Devil's grafts for future popes,
Which with fanaticism are join'd so clean,
You'd scarce believe a knife had pass'd between.
False-witness seed had almost been forgot,
"Twill be your making, should there be a plot.
And now, dear Orpheus, scatter these but well;
And you'll deserve the gratitude of Hell."

Quoth Orpheus, "You shall be obey'd
In every thing that you have said,
For mischief is the poet's trade:
And whatsoever they shall bring,
You may assure yourself, I'll sing.
But pray what poets shall we have,
At my returning from the grave?"

"Sad dogs!" quoth Bocai,-" let me see-
But, since what I say cannot shame them,
I'll e'en resolve to never name them.

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"But now," says Bocai, sir, you may
Long to be going on your way,
Unless you'll drink some arsenic claret:
'Tis burnt, you see: but Sam can spare it."
Orpheus replied, "Kind sir, 'tis neither
Brandy nor whets that brought me hither;
But love, and I an instance can be,
Love is as hot as pepper'd brandy;
Yet, gentle sir, you may command
A tune from a departing hand;
The style and passion both are good,
'Tis The Three Children in the Wood."

He sang; and pains themselves found ease;
For griefs, when well express'd, can please.
When he describ'd the children's loss,
And how the robins cover'd them with moss;
To hear the pity of those birds,

Ev'n Bocai's tears fell down with Orpheus' words.

RUFINUS; OR, THE FAVOURITE1.

IMITATED FROM CLAUDIAN.

OFT, as I wondering stand, a secret doubt Puzzles my reason, and disturbs my thought, Whether this lower world by Chance does move, Or guided by the guardian hand of Jove,

The essay, to which this poem was originally annexed, was written in 1711, as a harsh satire on the duke of Marlborough, dictated perhaps rather by party rage than truth. It is printed in Dr. King's works, vol. ii. p. 280. N.

When I survey the world's harmonious frame,
How Nature lives immutably the same;
How stated bounds and ambient shores restrain
The rolling surges of the briny main;
How constant Time revolves the circling year;
How day and night alternately appear;
Then am I well convinc'd some secret soul,
Some first informing power directs the whole;
Some great intelligence, who turns the spheres,
Who rules the steady motion of the stars,
Who decks with borrow'd light the waning Moon,
And fills with native light th' unchanging Sun,
Who hangs the Earth amidst surrounding skies,
And bids her various fruits in various seasons rise.
But, soon as I reflect on human state,
How blind, how unproportion'd, is our fate;
How ill men, crown'd with blessings, smoothly pass
A golden circle of delightful days;

How good men bear the rugged paths of life,
Condemn'd to endless cares, to endless strife;
Then am I lost again; religion fails;
Then Epicurus' bolder scheme prevails, [dance,
Which through the void makes wandering atoms
And calls the medley world the work of Chance,
Which God's eternal Providence denies,
And feigns him nodding in the distant skies.

At length Rufinus' fate my doubt removes,
And God's existence and his justice proves.
Nor do I longer undeceiv'd complain,
The wicked flourish, and triumphant reign;
Since they to Fortune's heights are rais'd alone,
To rush with greater ruin headlong down.

But here instruct thy bard, Pierian dame,
Whence, and of whom, the dire contagion came.
Alecto's breast with rage and envy glows,
To see the world possess'd of sweet repose.
Down to the dreary realms below she bends,
There summons a cabal of sister fiends;
Thither unnumber'd plagues direct their flight,
The cursed progeny of Hell and Night.
First, Discord rears her head, these of War;
Next, Famine fiercely stalks with haughty air;
Then Age scarce drags her limbs, scarce draws her
breath,

But, tottering on, approaches neighbouring Death;
Here grows Disease, with inbred tortures worn;
There Envy snarls, and others' good does mourn;
There Sorrow sighs, her robe to tatters torn;
Fear skulks behind, and trembling hides her face,
But Rashness headlong thrusts her front of brass;
Then Luxury, Wealth's bane, profusely shines,
Whilst Want, attending in a cloud, repines.
A train of sleepless self-tormenting cares,
Daughters of meagre Avarice, appears;
Who, as around her wither'd neck they cling,
Confess the parent hag from whence they spring.
Here ills of each malignant kind resort,
A thousand monsters guard the dreadful court.
Amidst th' infernal crowd, Alecto stands,
And a deep silence awfully commands;
Then, in tumultuous terms like these, express'd
A passion long had swell'd within her breast:
"Shall we supine permit these peaceful days,
So smooth, so gay, so undisturb'd, to pass?
Shall Pity melt, shall Clemency control,
A Fury's fierce and unrelenting soul?
What do our iron whips, our brands, avail;
What all the horrid implements of Hell;
Since mighty Jove debars us of his skies,

Since Theodosius too his Earth denies :

Such were the days, and so their tenour ran,
When the first happy golden age began:
Virtue and Concord, with their heavenly train,
With Piety and Faith, securely reign;
Nay, Justice, in imperi 1 pomp array'd,
Boldly explores this ever asting shade;
Me she, insulting, menaces and awes;
Reforms the world, and vindicates her laws.
And shall we then, neglected and forlorn,
From every region banish'd, idly mourn?
Assert yourselves; know what, and whence, you

are:

Attempt some glorious mischief worth your care;
Involve the universe in endless war.

Oh! that I could in Stygian vapour rise,
Darken the Sun, pollute the balmy skies;
Let loose the rivers, dehuge every plain,
Break down the barriers of the roaring main,
And shatter Nature into chaos once again !”
So rag'd the fiend, and toss'd her vipers round,
Which hissing pour'd their poison on the ground.
A murmur through the jarring audience rung,
Different resolves from different reasons sprung.
So when the fury of the storm is past,
When the rough winds in softer murmurs waste;
So sounds, so fluctuates, the troubled sea,
As the expiring tempest plows its way.

Megæra, rising then, address'd the throng,
To whom Sedition, Tumult, Rage, belong :
Whose food is entrails of the guiltless dead,
Whose drink is children's blood by parents shed.
She scorch'd Alcides with a frantic flame,
She broke the bow, the savage world did tame;
She nerv'd the arm, she flung the deadly dart,
When Athamas transfix'd Learchus' heart:
She prompted Agamemnon's monstrous wife
To take her injur'd lord's devoted life:
She breath'd revenge and rage into the son,
So did the mother's blood the sire's atone:
She blinded Oedipus with kindred charms,
Forc'd him incestuous to a mother's arms:
She stung Thyestes, and his fory fed;
She taught him to pollute a daughter's bed.
Such was her dreadful speech:

"Your schemes not practical nor lawful are, With Heaven and Jove to wage unequal war: But, if the peace of man you would invade, If o'er the ravag'd Earth destruction spread; Then shall Rufinus, fram'd for every ill, With your own vengeance execute your will; A prodigy from savage parents sprung, Impetuous as a tigress new with young; Fierce as the hydra, fickle as the flood, And keen as meagre harpies for their food. "Soon as the infant drew the vital air, I first receiv'd him to my nursing care; And often he, when tender yet and young, Cried for the teat, and on my bosom hung: Whilst my horn'd serpents round his visage play'd, His features form'd, and there their venom shed; Whilst I, infusing, breath'd into his heart Deceit and craft, and every hurtful art; Taught him t' involve his soul in secret clouds, With false dissembling smiles to veil his frauds. "Not dying patriots' tortures can assuage His inborn cruelty, his native rage: Not Tagus' yellow torrent can suffice His boundless and unsated avuriec : Nor all the metal of Pactolus' streams, Nor Hermus glittering as the solar beams.

"If you the stratagem propos'd approve, Let us to court this bane of crowns remove. There shall he soon, with his intriguing art, Guide uncontrol'd the willing prince's Reort. Not Numa's wisdom shall that heart delend, When the false favourite acts the faithful friend." Soon as she ended, the surrounding crowd With peals of joy the black design applaud.

Now with an adamant her hair she bound,
With a blue serpent girt her vest around;
Then hastes to Phlegethon's impetuous stream,
Whose pitchy waves are flakes of rolling fame;
There lights a torch, and straight, with whs
display'd,

Shoots swiftly through the dun Tartarian glade.
A place on Gallia's utmost verge there lies,
Extended to the sea and southern skies;
Where once Ulysses, as old fables tell,
Invok'd and rais'd th' inhabitants of Hell;
Where oft', with staring eyes, the trembling hind
Sees airy phantoms skim before the wind:
Hence springs the Fury into upper skies,
Infecting all the region as she flies:
She roars, and shakes the atmosphere around,
And earth and sea rebellow to the sound.
Then straight transform'd her snakes to silver hairs,
And like an old decrepid sage appears;
Slowly she creps along with trembling gait,
Scarce can her languid limbs sustain her weight.
At length, arriving at Rufinus' cell,
Which, from his monstrous birth, she knew 8)
well,

She mildly thus Hell's darling hope address'd,
Sooth'd his ambition, and inflam'd his breast:

"Can sloth dissolve Rufinus; canst thou pass
Thy sprightly youth in soft inglorious ease?
Know, that thy better fate, thy kinder star,
Does more exalted paths for thee prepare.
If thou an old man's counsel canst obey,
The subject world shall own thy sovereign sway
For my enlight'd soul, my conscious breast,
Of magic's secret science is possess'd.
Oft' have I fore'd, with mystic midnight spells,
Pale spectres from their subterranean celis:
Old Hecaté attends my powerful song,
Powerful to hasten fate, or to prolong;
Powerful the rooted stubborn oak to move,
To stop the thunder bursting from above,
To make the rapid flood's descending stream
Flow backward to the fountain whence it came.
Nor doubt my truth-behold, with just surprise,
An effort of my art-a palace rise."

She said; and, lo! a palace towering seems,
With Parian pillars and metallic beams.
Rufinus, ravish'd with the vast delight,
Gorges his avarice, and guts his sight.
Such was his transport, such his sudden pride,
When Midas first his golden wish enjoy'd:
But, as his stiffening food to metal turn'd,
He found his rashness, and his ruin mourn'd.
"Be thou or man or god," Rufinus said,
"I follow wheresoe'er thy dictates lead."

Then from his hut he flies, assumes the state
Propounded by the fiend, prepar'd by Fate.
Ambition soon began to lift her head,
Soaring, she mounts with restless pinions spread;
But Justice, conscious, shuas the poison'd air,
Where only prostituted tools repair;
Where Stilico and Virtue not avail;
Where royal favours stand expos'd to sale;

Where now Rufinus, scandalously great,
Loads labouring nations with oppressive weight;
Keeps the obsequious world depending still
On the proud dictates of his lawless will;
Advances those, whose fierce and factious zeal
Prompts ever to resist, and to rebel;

But those impeaches, who their prince commend,
Who, dauntless, dare his sacred rights defend;
Expounds small riots into highest crimes,
Brands loyalty as treason to the times.
An haughty minion, mad with empire grown,
Enslaves the subjects, and insults the throne.
A thousand disemboguing rivers pay
Their everlasting homage to the sea;

The Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Thames,
Pour constant down their tributary streams:
But yet the sea confesses no increase,

For all is swallow'd in the deep abyss.

In craving, still Rufinus' soul remains,

No bribes his growing appetite can sate;
For new possessions new desires create.
No sense of shame, no modesty, restrains,
Where Avarice or where Ambition reigns.
When with strict oaths his proffer'd faith he binds,
False are his vows, and treacherous his designs.
Now, should a patriot rise, his power oppose,
Should he assert a sinking nation's cause,
He stirs a vengeance nothing can control,
Such is the rancour of his haughty soul;
Fell as a lioness in Libya's plain,

When tortur'd with the javelin's pointed pain;
Or a spurn'd serpent, as she shoots along,
With lightning in her eyes, and poison in her
Nor will those families eraz'd suffice; [tongue.
But provinces and cities he destroys:
Urg'd on with blind revenge and settled hate,
He labours the confusion of the state;
Subverts the nation's old-establish'd frame,

Though fed with showers of gold, and floods of Explodes her laws, and tramples on her fame.

gains;

For he despoils and ravages the land,
No state is free from his rapacious hand;
Treasures immense he hoards; erects a tower,
To lodge the plunder'd world's collected store:
Unmeasur'd is his wealth, unbounded is his power.
Oh! whither would'st thou rove, mistaken man?
Vain are thy hopes, thy acquisitions vain:
For now, suppose thy avarice possess'd
Of all the splendour of the glittering East,
Of Croesus' mass of wealth, of Cyrus' crown,
Suppose the ocean's treasure all thy own;
Still would thy soul repine, still ask for more,
Unblest with plenty, with abundance poor.

Fabricius, in himself, in virtue great,
Disdain'd a monarch's bribe, despis'd his state.
Serranus, as he grac'd the consul's chair,
So could he guide the plough's laborious share.
The fam'd, the warlike, Curii deign'd to dwell
In a poor lonely cot and humble cell.
Such a retreat to me's more glorious far,
Than all thy pomp, than all thy triumphs are:
Give me my solitary native home,
Take thou thy rising tower, thy lofty dome;
Though there thy furniture of radiant dye
Abstracts and ravishes the curious eye;
Though each apartment, every spacious room,
Shines with the glories of the Tyrian loom;
Yet here I view a more delightful scene,
Where Nature's freshest bloom and beauties reign;
Where the warm Zephyr's genial balmy wing,
Playing, diffuses an eternal spring:

Though there thy lewd lascivious limbs are laid
On a rich downy couch, or golden bed:
Yet here, extended on the flowery grass,
More free from care, my guiltless hours I pass:
Though there thy sycophants, a servile race,
Cringe at thy levees, and resound thy praise;
Yet here a murmuring stream, or warbling bird,
To me does sweeter harmony afford.

Nature on all the power of bliss bestows,
Which from her bounteous source perpetual flows.
But he alone with happiness is blest,
Who knows to use it rightly when possest:
A doctrine, if well poiz'd in Reason's scale,
Nor luxury nor want would thus prevail;
Nor would our fleets so frequent plough the main,
Nor our embattled armies strew the plain.
But, oh! Rufinus is to reason blind!

A strange hydropic thirst inflames his mind,

VOL. IX.

If e'er in mercy he pretends to save
A man, pursu'd by Faction, from the grave;
Then he invents new punishments, new pains,*
Condemns to silence, and from truth restrains';
Then racks and pillories, and bonds and bars,
Then ruin and impeachments he prepares.
O dreadful mercy! more than Death severe !
That doubly tortures whom it seems to spare!

All seem enslar'd, all bow to him alone;
Nor dare their hate their just resentments own;
But inward grieve, their sighs and pangs confin'd,
Which with convulsive sorrow tear the mind.
Envy is mute-'tis treason to disclose
The baneful source of their eternal woes.

But Stilico's superior soul appears
Unshock'd, unmov'd, by base ignoble fears.
He is the polar star, directs the state,
When parties rage, and public tempests beat;
He is the safe retreat, the sweet repose,
Can sooth and calm afHicted Virtue's woes;
He is the solid, firm, unshaken force,
That only knows to stem th' invader's course.
So when a river, swell'd with winter's rains,
The limits of its wonted shore disdains;
Bridges, and stones, and trees, in vain oppose;
With unresisted rage the torrent flows:
But as it, rolling, meets a mighty rock,
Whose fix'd foundations can repel the shock,
Elided surges roar in eddies round,
The rock, unmov'd, reverberates the sound.

THE EAGLE AND THE ROBIN",

AN APOLOGUE;

Translated from the original of Æsop, written two thousand years since, and now rendered in familiar verse by H. G. L. Mag.

GooD precepts and true gold are more valuable for their antiquity. And here I present my good

Alluding to the sentence then recently passed on Dr. Sacheverell, for whoin our author was a professed advocate. N.

The political moral of this little apologue is too evident to need any other comment, than barely mentioning that the lady was queen Anne; desir

U

reader with one, delivered by the first founder of mythology, Æsop himself. Maximus Planudes takes notice of it, as a very excellent part of his production; and Phædrus, Camerarius, and others, seem to agree, that his Eagle, and five others not yet translated, are equal to any of his that are handed down to us. Though Mr. Ogleby and sir Roger L'Estrange had the unhappiness to be unacquainted with them, yet I had the good fortune to discover them by the removal of my old library, which has made me amends for the trouble of getting to where I now teach. They were written, or dictated at least, by Æsop, in the fifty-fourth Olympiad: and though I designed them chiefly for the use of my school, (this being translated by a youth designed for a Greek professor) yet no man is so wise as not to need instruction, aye, and by the way of fable too; since the holy scriptures themselves, the best instructors, teach us by way of parable, symbol, image, and figure; and David was more moved with Nathan's "Thou art the man," than all the most rigid lectures in the world would have done. Whoever will be at the trouble of comparing this version with the original, let them begin at the tenth line, and they will find it metaphrastically done, verbum verbo, as the best way of justice to the author. Those that are mere adorers of í hóyos will not be angry that it is in this sort of metre, for which I gave leave, the lad having a turn to this sort of measure, which is pleasant and agreeable, though not lofty. For my own part, I concur with my master Aristotle, that ῥυθμὸς καὶ ἁρμονία are very far from being unneces sary or unpleasant. May this be of use to thee; and it will please thine in all good wishes.

HORAT. GRAM.

THE EAGLE AND THE ROBIN.

A LADY liv'd in former days,
That well deserv'd the utmost praise;
For greatness, birth, and justice fam'd,
And every virtue could be nam'd;
Which made her course of life so even,`
That she's a saint (if dead) in Heaven,
This lady had a little seat
Just like a palace, 'twas so neat,
From aught (but goodness) her retreat.
One morning, in her giving way,
As was her custom every day,

To cheer the poor, the sick, and cold,
Or with apparel, food, or gold,
There came a gazing stranger by,
On whom she quickly cast an eye.

The man, admiring, made a stand;
.He had a bird upon his hand :

"What's that," says she, "that hangs its head, Sinking and faint? 'Tis almost dead." "Madam, a red-breast that I found, By this wet season almost drown'd." "Oh! bring him in, and keep him warm; Robins do never any harm."

ing the reader to recollect the change which she made in her ministry in 1709, the year in which this poem was written; and referring to Rufinus. N.

They soon obey'd, and chopt him meat,
Gave him whatever he would eat;
The lady care herself did take,
And made a nest for Robin's sake:
But he perkt up into her chair,
In which he plenteously did fare,
Assuming quite another air.

The neighbours thought, when this they spy'd,
The world well mended on his side.

With well-tun'd throat he whistled long,
And every body lik'd his song.
"At last," said they, "this little thing
Will kill itself, so long to sing;
We'll closet him among the rest
Of those my lady loves the best."
They little thought, that saw him come,
That Robins were so quarrelsome:
The door they open'd, in he pops,
And to the highest perch he hops;
The party-colour'd birds he chose,
The gold-finches, and such as those;
With them he'd peck, and bill, and feed,
And very well (at times) agreed:
Canary-birds were his delight,
With them he'd tête-à-tête all night;
But the brown linnets went to pot,
He kill'd them all upon the spot.

The servants were employ'd each day,
Instead of work, to part some fray,
And wish'd the aukward fellow curst
That brought him to my lady first.
At last they all resolv'd upon't,
Some way to tell my lady on't.

Meanwhile he'ad had a noble swing,
And rul'd just like the Gallic king;
Having kill'd or wounded all,
Unless the Eagle in the hall;
With whom he durst but only jar,
He being the very soul of war,
But hated him for his desert,
And bore him malice at his heart.

This Eagle was my lady's pride,
The guardian safety of her side:
He often brought home foreign prey,
Which humbly at her feet he lay.
For colour, pinions, and stature,
The fairest workmanship of Nature;
'Twould do one good to see him move,
So full of grandeur, grace, and love:
He was indeed a bird for Jove.
He soar'd aloft in Brucum's field,
And thousand kites and vultures kill'd;
Which made him dear to all that flew,
Unless to Robin and his crew.

One day poor Bob, puff'd up with pride,
Thinking the combat to abide,
A goose-quill on for weapon tyd,
Knowing by use, that, now and then,
A sword less hurt does than a pen.

As for example-What at home
You've well contriv'd to do at Rome,
A pen blows up-before you come.
You are suppos'd to undermine
The foe-in some immense design.
A pen can bite you with a line;
There's forty ways to give a sign.
Well-all on fire away he stalk'd,
Till come to where the Eagle walk'd.
Bob did not shill-I shall-I go,
Nor said one word of friend or foe;

But flirting at him made a blow,
As game-cocks with their gauntlets do.
At which the eagle gracefully
Cast a disdaining, sparkling eye;
As who should say-What's this, a fly?
But no revenge at all did take,
He spar'd him for their lady's sake,
Who ponder'd these things in her mind,
And took the conduct of the eagle kind.
Upon reflection now-to show
What harm the least of things may do,
Mad Robin, with his cursed flirt,
One of the eagle's eyes had hurt;
Inflam'd it, made it red and sore:
But the affront inflam'd it more.
Oh, how the family did tear!

To fire the house, could scarce forbear:
With scoru, not pain, the eagle fir'd,
Murmur'd disdain, and so retir'd.
Robin, to offer some relief,

In words like these would heal their grief:
"Should th' Eagle die (which Heaven
forbid !)

We ought some other to provide.

I do not say that any now

Are fit, but in a year or two:

And should this mighty warrior fall,
They should not want a general."

As men have long observ'd, that one
Misfortune seldom comes alone;
Just in the moment this was done,
Ten thousand foes in sight were come:
Vultures, and kites, and birds of prey,
In flocks so thick-they darken'd day.
A long-concerted force and strong,
Vermin of all kinds made the throng;
Foxes were in the faction join'd,
Who waited their approach to ground.

By every hand, from common fame,
The frightful face of danger came.
One cries, "What help now-who can tell?
I'm glad the Eagle's here, and well!"
Another out of breath with fear,
Says, "Thousands more near sea appear;
They'll swop our chicken from the door;
We never were so set before:
We're glad the Eagle will forget,
And the invaders kill or beat."

Reserv'd and great, his noble mind,
Above all pretty things inclin'd,
Abhorr'd the thoughts of any thing,
But what his lady's peace could bring:
Who bless'd him first, and bade him do
As he was wont, and beat the foe.

Burning and restless as the Sun,
Until this willing work was done;
He whets his talons, stretch'd his wings,
His lightning darts, and terrour flings;
Towers with a flight into the sky,
These million monsters to descry,
Prepar'd to conquer, or to die.

The party, that so far was come,
Thought not the eagle was at home:
To fame and danger us'd in field,

They knew he'd quickly make them yield:
But, on assurance he was near,
lacumber'd, faint, and dead with fear,

3 Opluλμ, amongst the Greeks, signifies "Honour as tender as the eye." KING.

They made with hurry towards the lakes;
And he his pinions o'er them shakes.
They had not (with such horrour fill'd)
The courage to let one be kill'd:
They fled, and left no foe behind,
Unless it were the fleeting wind:
Only a man by water took
Two fine young merlins and a rook.
The family had now repose:
But with the Sun the Eagle rose;
Th' imperial bird pursu'd the foe,
More toil than rest inur'd to know.
He wing'd his way to Latian land,
Where first was hatch'd this murdering band;
He darted death where'er he came,
Some of them dying at his name.

Their mighty foe-a fatal pledge,
Their bowels tore through every hedge:
They flutter, shriek, and caw, and hiss,
Their strength decays, and fears increase :
But most the chevaliers the geese.

So many slaughter'd fowl there was,
Their carcases block'd-up the ways;
The rest he drove, half spent, pell-mell,
Quite to the walls of Pontifell.

Robin at home, though mad to hear
He should so conquer every where,
Expostulated thus with fear:
"Ungrateful I, that so have stirr'd
Against this generous, noble bird,
Wast thou not first by him preferr'd?"
Let's leave him in his gall to burn,
And back to Pontifell return.

There some to chimney-tops aspire,
To turrets some that could fly higher;
Some 'bove a hundred miles were gone,
To roost them at Byzantium.
Alas! in vain was their pretence,
He broke through all their strong defence:
Down went their fences, wires, and all;
Perches and birds together fall.

None hop'd his power to withstand,
But gave the nest to his command:
They told him of ten thousand more,
In flocks along the Ganges' shore,
Safe in their furrows, free from trouble,
Like partridges among the stubble.
He spreads himself, and cuts the air,
And steady flight soon brought him there,
Lord, how deceiv'd and vex'd he was!
To find they were but meer jackdaws.
A hundred thousand all in light,
They all could chatter, not one fight.
"I'll deal by them as is their due :
Shough!" cry'd the cagle; off they flew.
His flashing eye their hearts confounds,
Though by their flight secure from wounds,
Which was a signal, fatal baulk
To a late swift Italian hawk.

The Eagle would no rest afford,
Till he had sent my lady word;
Who when she heard the dear surprise,
Wonder and joy stood in her eyes.
"My faithful Eagle, bast thou then
My mortal foes destroy'd again?
Return, return, and on me wait;
Be thou the guardian of my gate;
Thee and thy friends are worth my care,
Thy foes (if any such there are)
Shall my avenging anger share.”

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