. Bards and the birds; . me was when I was free as thistles downy seed my fare. My drink the morning dew;I perchd at will on evry spray,My form genteel, my plumage gay, My strains for ever new. But gaudy plumage, sprightly form genteel, were all in vain, And of a transient date ;For caught, and cagd, and starvd to death,In dying sighs my little breath Soon passd the wiry grate. 452 BARDS AND THE BIRDS Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes,And thanks for this effectual close And cure of evry ill;More cruelty could none express ;And I, if you had shown me less. Had been your p
. Bards and the birds; . me was when I was free as thistles downy seed my fare. My drink the morning dew;I perchd at will on evry spray,My form genteel, my plumage gay, My strains for ever new. But gaudy plumage, sprightly form genteel, were all in vain, And of a transient date ;For caught, and cagd, and starvd to death,In dying sighs my little breath Soon passd the wiry grate. 452 BARDS AND THE BIRDS Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes,And thanks for this effectual close And cure of evry ill;More cruelty could none express ;And I, if you had shown me less. Had been your prisner still. COWPER. From THE LADY OF THE LAKE The captive thrush may brook the cage,The prisond eagle dies for rage. SCOTT. From INSCRIPTIONS. XVI. Dost thou not loveThe sounds that speak enjoyment ? oh, if thou wouldst rather with inhuman earHark to the warblings of some wretched birdBereft of freedom, sure thine heart is deadTo each good feeling, and thy spirit voidOf all that softens or ennobles man. MELANCHOLY HUMOURS 45 From TO HYMEN Yet will the lark in iron cage inthralld, Chaunt forth her hymn to greet the morning sun, As wide his brilliant beam Illumes the landskip round ;As distant mid the woodland haunts is heardThe featherd quire, she chaunts her prisond hymn. And hails the beam of joy, Of joy to her denied. SOUTHEV. From MELANCHOLY HUMOURS The owl, that makes the night her day, delights yet in the dark ;But I am forced to play the owl, that have been bred a eagle from the lowest vale can mount the , lofty sky;But I am fallen from down the hill, and in the vale must die. . IJRETON. 454 BARDS AND THE BIRDS SONNET SICKNESS. As when a sea-gull, customed long to sweep With breezy range from shimmering sea to sea, In revelry of wafture fair and free,Oer the broad bosom of the boundless deep;Him now an idle boy, after a storm. Hath caught, and pruned his wing, and closelybarred All outlet from the farmers narrow yard,Where he must hop about fro
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectbirdsin, bookyear1894
