190 YIEWS OF NATURE. 



All, alas! are lifeless lying, 



Stretch'd upon their grassy bed; 



Nor can all his mournful crying, 

 E ? er awake the slumbering dead. 



Still he calls with voice imploring, 

 To a world that heeds him not; 



Nought replies but waters roaring — 

 No kind soul bewails his lot. 



Swift the savage turns his rudder, 

 When his eyes the bird behold; 



None e'er saw without a shudder 

 That Aturian Parrot old ! 



