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"I own (with meekness Pufs replied)
"Superior merit on your fide;

"Nor does my breast with envy swell,
"To find it recompens'd so well;

"Yet I, in what my nature can,
"Contribute to the good of man.
"Whofe claws deftroy the pilf'ring moufe?
"Who drives the vermin from the house?
"Or, watchful for the lab'ring fwain,

"From lurking rats fecures the grain?

"From hence, if he rewards bestow,
"Why should your heart with gall o'erflow?
"Why pine my happinefs to fee,

"Since there's enough for you and me?”

"Thy words are juft," the farmer cried,

And spurn'd the fnarler from his fide.

We have now given the best selection we are able of this fpecies of poetry, in order to answer the purpose of practice to the reader in that branch of reading. We recommend the frequent perufal of these fables, if the scholar find himself any ways deficient of that eafy flow of utterance fo effentially neceffary in the perfon who may wish to do them juftice.

We do not know any poetical production of the kind that produces more effect on the hearer, if properly read, than the following. We fhall endeavour to

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give it in the fame manner in which we have heard, with fo much pleafure, the late Mr. Henderfon read it in private.

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A BLACKBIRD.

Supposed to be written by Mr. JAGO.

LET your expreffion be smooth, flowing, and harmo

INOUS.

THE fun had chas'd the winter's fnow,
And kindly loos'd the frozen foil;
The melting streams began to flow,
And ploughmen urg'd their annual toil.

'Twas then, amid the vernal throng,

Make a pause after "then."

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Whom nature wakes to mirth and love,
A Blackbird rais'd his am'rous föng,

Paufe after "blackbird."

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Now change your voice to a tone of affection and tender

nefs.

"O! faireft of the feather'd train,

"For whom I fing, for whom I burn;

"Attend with pity to my ftrain,

"And grant my love a kind return,

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"For fee the wintry storms are flown,
"And gentle zephyrs fan the air!
"Let us the genial influence own,

"Let us the vernal paftime fhare.

"The raven plumes his jetty wing
"To please his croaking paramour;
"The larks refponfive ditties fing,
"And tell their paffions as they foar.

"But trust me, love, the raven's wing
"Is not to be compar'd with nine;
"Nor can the lark fo fweetly fing

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As I, who ftrength with fweetnefs join.

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"With thee I'll prove the fweets of love,
"With thee divide the cares of life;
"No bufh fhall boast in all the grove,
"So fond a mate, fo bleft a wife.

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"I'll lead thee to the clearest rill,

"Whose streams among the pebbles ftray; "There will we fit and fip our fill, "Or on the flow'ry margin play.

"I'll guide thee to the thickest brake, "Impervious to the fchoolboy's eye; "For thee the cloifter'd neft I'll make, And on thy downy pinions lie.

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To get thee food, I'll range the fields,
"And cull the beft of ev'ry kind;
"Whatever nature's bounty yields,

"Or love's affiduous care can find.

"When, prompted by a mother's care,
"Thy warmth shall form th' imprison'd young;
"With thee the task I'll gladly fhare,

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Or cheer thy labours with a fong.

"And when my lovely mate would ftray,
"To tafte the fummer's fweets at large,
"At home I'll wait the livelong day,

"And tend at home our infant charge.".

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Your voice now to a lower key, and with lefs tender

nefs.

He ceas'd his fong.

The melting dame,

With tender pity,

heard his ftrain;

She felt, fhe own'd, a mutual flame,
And haften'd to relieve his pain.

He led her to the nuptial bow'r,
And neftled clofely by her fide,.
The happiest bridegroom of the hour,
And the the most delighted bride.

Next morn he wak'd her with a fong

The three next lines with the fame tone as before.

"Arife! behold the new-born day!

"The

1

"The lark his matin peal has rung;
"Arife! my love, and come away!”

Together thro' the fields they stray'd,
And to the verdant's riv❜lets fide,
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play'd,
With honeft joy and decent pride.

Now comes the melancholy fequel of this very interesting little elegy. In keeping up the full meaning of the author, and impreffing the hearer with its proper effect, you ought here to make a confiderable pause, and by your look and manner prepare him for the fad remainder of the poem. Let your voice be low and very pathetic.

But oh! my Mufe with pain relates
The mournful sequel of my tale;)
Sent by an order of the Fates,
A gunner met them in the vale.

Paufe after "gunner."

Alarm'd, the lover cried, "My dear,

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"Hafte, hafte away; from danger fly!
point
thunder
Here, gunner, turn thy vengeance here!
“O fpare my love, and let mesdie.”

At him the gunner took his aim;

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The aim he took was, ah! too true;
O! had he chofe fome other game,
Or fhot as he had wont to do.*

Never having killed any thing before.

G S

Divided

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