The
LINNET
and
the
GOLDFINCH
.
'TWAS
when
the
Morn
disclos'd
her
rosy
Brow
,
And
new-wak'd
Heifers
in
the
Pastures
low
,
When
little
Songsters
in
the
Gales
respire
:
To
Mira's
Shades
repair'd
the
woodland
Choir
;
Perch'd
on
a
Bough
that
shone
with
Morning
Dew
,
The
Linnet
thus
address'd
the
feather'd
Crew
.
The
LINNET
.
Say
,
my
soft
Sisters
;
say
,
ye
tuneful
Throng
;
Who
now
demands
the
Tribute
of
a
Song
?
Who
call'd
us
here
?
Who
gave
us
leave
to
rove
And
warble
in
this
late
forbidden
Grove
?
Not
long
ago
as
Mira
,
mournful
Maid
,
All
pensive
sat
beneath
the
dusky
Shade
,
Just
o'er
her
Head
I
whistled
on
a
Bough
,
But
Discontent
sat
frowning
on
her
Brow
:
Be
gone
thou
too
officious
Bird
,
she
cries
;
(
And
turn'd
on
Me
—
on
Me
her
angry
Eyes
)
Go
from
my
Bowers
,
lead
the
tuneful
Throng
;
For
Artemisia
hears
no
more
your
Song
.
These
slighted
Shades
can
please
the
Fair
no
more
;
Ye
Hony-suckles
shed
your
blooming
Store
;
Ye
spreading
Trees
now
let
your
Branches
die
;
And
ye
shrill
Warblers
from
those
Branches
fly
:
She
said
:
—
the
Blossoms
fell
from
ev'ry
Tree
,
And
we
dejected
from
her
Arbours
flee
;
.
We
fled
all
mournful
to
the
distant
Plain
:
Then
say
who
calls
us
to
these
Groves
again
.
The
GOLDFINCH
.
By
Mira's
Order
to
this
Grove
we
came
,
Mira
,
whose
Sonnets
please
the
rural
Dame
:
'Twas
Yesternight
she
wav'd
her
Hand
to
me
,
As
I
sat
whistling
on
a
Chesnut-tree
:
Come
here
(
she
cry'd
)
ye
soft
aërial
Choirs
;
My
Ear
no
more
your
sprightly
Musick
tires
:
Now
I
can
listen
all
the
Ev'ning
long
,
For
Artemisia
will
attend
your
Song
:
She
comes
:
Ye
Trees
put
on
your
best
Array
,
And
with
fresh
Odours
greet
the
rising
Day
.
Breathe
sweet
,
ye
Woodbines
,
and
with
Heads
reclin'd
Court
the
soft
Whispers
of
the
western
Wind
.
Ye
friendly
Zephyrs
,
dry
the
dewy
Ground
;
Shine
bright
,
thou
Sun
;
and
laugh
,
ye
Meads
around
:
Thus
Mira
spoke
.
—
Once
more
the
Blossoms
glow
,
And
milder
Breezes
o'er
the
Mountains
blow
.
The
smiling
Grove
once
more
renews
its
Charms
,
And
Trees
embracing
twist
their
curling
Arms
;
Safely
to
shelter
the
expected
Fair
,
From
the
hot
Sun-beams
or
the
northern
Air
:
Here
we
attend
,
and
hop
from
Spray
to
Spray
,
'Till
the
kind
Fates
shall
bring
the
wish'd-for
Day
.
When
She
,
of
whom
our
Mira
daily
sings
,
Whose
Name
she
whispers
to
the
list'ning
Springs
,
Shall
bless
these
Shades
—
then
,
ye
melodious
Throng
,
Let
each
prepare
'em
for
the
sprightly
Song
.
Let
the
shrill
Thrush
begin
her
vary'd
Strain
,
And
the
small
Wren
in
softer
Note
complain
.
The
piercing
Linnet
and
the
Lark
agree
,
Less
loud
the
Red-breast
,
Nightingale
and
me
.
Here
ends
the
Goldfinch
,
and
exulting
springs
;
Her
pleas'd
Companions
clap
their
joyful
Wings
.