To fame and danger us'd in field
They knew he'd quickly make them yield: But on affurance he was near,
Incumber'd, faint, and dead with fear, They made with hurry tow'rds the lakes, And he his pinions o'er them shakes. They had not (with fuch 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 fun the Eagle rofe; Th' imperial bird purfu'd the foe, More toil than rest inur'd to know.
He wing'd his way to Latian land
Where firft was hatch'd this murd'ring band;
He darted death where'er he came,
Some of them dying at his name. Their mighty foe-a fatal pledge, Their bowels tore thro' ev'ry hedge; They flutter, fhriek, and caw, and hifs, Their ftrength decays and fears increase, But most the chevaliers the geefe. So many flaughter'd fowl there was Their carcaffes block'd up the ways;
The rest he drove, half spent, pellmell, Quite to the walls of Pontifell.
Robin at home, tho' mad to hear He fhou'd fa conquer ev'ry where, Expoftulated thus with fear: "Ungrateful I that so have stirr'd
Against this gen'rous noble bird: "Waft thou not firft by him preferr'd? "Let's leave him in his gall to burn, "And back to Pontifell return.”
There fome to chimneytops aspire, To turrets fome that could fly higher; Some 'bove a hundred miles were gone To rooft them at Byzantium.
Alas! in vain was their pretence; He broke thro' 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 neft to his command; They told him of ten thousand more In flocks along the Ganges' fhore, Safe in their furrows, free from trouble,
Like partridges among the stubble. He fpreads himself and cuts the air, And steady flight foon brought him there. Lord, how deceiv'd and vex'd he was To find they were but mere jackdaws!
A hundred thousand all in flight, They all could chatter, not one fight.
"I'll deal by them as is their due:
Shough!" cry'd the Eagle; "off they flew :" His flashing eyes their heart confounds,
Tho' by their flight fecure from wounds, Which was a signal, fatal baulk To a late fwift Italian hawk.
The Eagle would no reft afford Till he had fent my lady word, Who when she heard the dear furprise Wonder and joy stood in her eyes.
"My faithful Eagle! haft 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 fuch there are) “Shall my avenging anger fhare.” So-left new ills fhou'd intervene She turn'd the Robin out again. The Samians now in vaft delight
Blefs their good lady day and night,
Wish that her life might ne'er be done,
But everlasting as the fun.
The Eagle high again did foar,
The lady was disturb'd no more,
But all things flourish'd as before.
ROBIN REDBREAST, WITH THE BEASTS,
AN OLD CAT'S PROPHECY *;
Taken out of an old Copy of Verfes fuppofed to be writ by John Lidgate, a Monk of Bury.
ONE that had in her infant ftate, While playing at her father's gate, Seen and was moft hugely fmitten With young Dog and dirty Kitten, Had took them up and lugg'd them in, And made the fervants wash them clean. When the to a fit age was grown
To be fole miftrefs of her own, Then to her favour and strange truft She rais'd thefe two; in rank the first The Dog, who with gilt collar grac'd Strutted about. The Cat was plac'd O'er all the houfe to domineer, And kept each wight of her in fear, While he o'er all the plains had pow'r,
That favage wolves might not devour
Her flocks. She gave him charge great care
but beafts uncertain are!
Now fee by these what troubles rife
To those who in their choice unwife
The political drift of this pretended Prophecy is ftill more evident than that of the preceding poem, the fatire being abur dantly more personal.
Put trust in such; for he foon join'd; With beaft of prey the Dog combin'd, Who kill'd the Sheep and tore the Hind, While he would stand, and grin, and bark, Concealing thus his dealings dark. A Wolf or fo fometimes he 'd take, And then O what a noise he 'd make! But with wild beasts o'errun yet are The plains; fome die for want of fare, Or torn or kill'd: the fhepherds find Each day are loft of ev'ry kind.
Thy filly Sheep lament in vain; Of their hard fate not him complain. The fhepherds and the fervants all Against the traitor loudly bawl: But there was none that dar'd to tell Their lady what to them befel;
For Pufs a Fox of wondrous art
Brought in to help and take their part, By whofe affiftance to deceive
She made her ev'ry lie believe.
One lucky day when she was walking In her woods, with fervants talking, And stopp'd to hear how very well A Redbreaft fung, then him to dwell With her fhe call'd. He came, and took His place next to a fav'rite Rook, Where Robin foon began to fing Such fongs as made the house to ring:
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