130 DOVES. 



" As when a dove her rocky hold forsakes, 

 Roused, in a fright her sounding wings she shakes ; 

 The cavern rings with clattering ; out she flies, 

 And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies ; 

 At first she flutters ; but at length she springs 

 To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings." 



