ODE TO THE LARK. Maj if, 



Weak '3 the Painter's mimic (kill, 

 Words hiftoric, weaker flill : 

 It belongs to thee to rell. 

 Warbler, thou haft lov'd fo well ! 



F N. Torijlnre. 



To the Editor of the Bee. 

 Sir, Paijley. April ■a. ^ih, 1791. 



The following defultory ode is original ; if it merits a place in the Bee, the 

 inicTtkiii cf it there will much oblige 

 '* Your humble fervant Scribble. 



The Temple of Pint us, an Ode. 



Once on a day from the fuperb abode 



Of Plntus famous long ago, 

 The pealing trumpet of the footy god 



Proclaim'd of mighty treafures to beftow : 

 And hafte, the clarion oft yijoined. 

 For, but while day cndur'd, he would be kind. 



The founds iirfl reach'd two humble fwains 



Beneath a beachen Ibade rctir'd, , 



Their hearts exulted to the echoing flrains, 

 And golden hopes their bofoms fir'd. 

 Up from their graffy feats they fprung, 

 Afide their cro(.ksand cloaks they flung ; 

 And though the heav'n afpiringfane, 

 Scarce checr'd their lab 'ring fight. 

 The tirefome road could not reftrain 

 Their ardour for the flight. 

 One keener was than his compear 

 Of Plutus' glitt'ring flore< to l>e poffeff'd ; 

 His palpitating breaft 

 With fierce impatience burn'd ; 

 And to curtail 

 The tedious way, its obvious traft he fpurn' J, 

 And urg'd through many a horrid brake, 

 Thick fence and dang'rous lake. 

 His devious flight, fleet as the bounding deer, 

 When ftrep'rous hounds and horn, its trembling ears affail, 

 The tiiTu'd canopy, the purple flole ; 

 A thoufand glories b«oy'd up his foul , 



