112 HIRUND1NJE. 



Nearly similar to that of Meursius we have another song, 

 which the ingenious young rogues made use of as an excuse to 

 levy contributions on the good nature of their fellow-citizens, 

 and which the happiness of the day gave them almost the li- 

 berty of enforcing : 



" The swallow, the swallow, has burst on the sight; 

 He brings us gay seasons of vernal delight : 

 His back it is sable, his belly is white. 



Have you nothing to spare 

 That his palate may please, 



A fig, or a pear, 

 Or a slice of rich cheese ? 

 Mark ! he bars all delay : 

 At a word, my friend, say, 

 Is it yes, is it nay ? 

 Do we go ? do we stay ? 

 One gift, and we're gone : 

 Refuse, and anon 

 On your gate and your door 

 All our fury we pour ; 

 Or our strength shall be tried 

 On your sweet little bride . 

 From her seat we will tear her, 

 From her home we will bear her : 

 She is light, and will ask 

 But small hands to the task. 

 Let your bounty then lift, 



Help and aid, too, our mirth ; 

 And whatever the gift, 



Let its size speak its worth. 

 The swallow, the swallow, 



Upon you doth wait, 

 An almsman and suppliant, 



He stands at your gate. 

 Set open, set open, 



Your gate and your door ; 

 Neither giants nor grey-beards 



Your bounty implore."* 



A favourite with the poets, all have sung the praises of this 

 " fleet messenger of summer days," the same to-day as when 

 Anacreon sung : 



" Once in each revolving year, 

 Gentle bird, we find'thee here 

 AVhen nature wears her summer vest 

 Thou com'st to weave thy simple nest, 

 And, when the chilling winter lours, 

 Again thou seek'st the genial bowers 

 Of Memphis, or the shores of Nile, 

 Where sunny hours for ever smile." 



* Mitchell's Knights of Aristophanes. 



