314 THE KING-BIRD. 



Fatigued and silent, for a while he views 

 His old frequented haunts, and shades recluse, 

 Sees brothers, comrades, every hour arrive 

 Hears, humming round, the tenants of the hive ; 

 Love fires his breast, he woos, and soon is blest ; 

 And in the blooming orchard builds his nest. 



Come now, ye cowards ! ye whom heav'n disdains, 

 Who boast the happiest home the richest plains ; 

 On whom, perchance, a wife, an infant's eye 

 Hang as their hope, and on your arm rely ; 

 Yet, when the hour of danger and dismay 

 Comes on that country, sneak in holes away, 

 Shrink from the perils ye were bound to face, 

 And leave those babes and country to disgrace ; 

 Come here (if such we have), ye dastard herd ! 

 And kneel in dust before this noble bird. 



When the speck'd eggs within his nest appear, 

 Then glows affection, ardent and sincere ; 

 No discord sours him when his mate he meets, 

 But each warm heart with mutual kindness beats. 

 For her repast he bears along the lea 

 The bloated gad-fly and the balmy bee ; 

 For her repose scours o'er the adjacent farm, 

 Whence Hawks might dart, or lurking foes alarm; 

 For now abroad a band of ruffians prey, 

 The Crow, the Cuckoo, and th' insidious Jay ; 

 These, in the owner's absence, all destroy, 

 And murder every hope and every joy. 



Soft sits his brooding mate ; her guardian he, 

 Perch'd on the top of some tall neighb'ring tree ; 

 Thenr e, from the thicket to the concave skies, 

 His watchful eye around unceasing flies. 

 Wrens, Thrushes, Warblers, startled at his note, 

 Fly in affright the consecrated spot. 

 He drives the plund'ring Jay, with honest scorn, 

 Back to his woods ; the Mocker to his thorn ; 

 Sweeps round the Cuckoo, as the thief retreats ; 

 Attacks the Crow ; the diving Hawk defeats ; 

 Darts on the Eagle downwards from afar, 

 And midst the clouds prolongs the whirling war. 

 All danger o'er, he hastens back elate, 

 To guard his post and feed his faithful mate. 



Behold him now, his little family flown, 

 Meek, unassuming, silent, and alone ; 

 Lur'd by the well-known hum of fav'rite bees, 

 As slow he hovers o'er the garden trees, 



