54 A TALE OF DESTRUCTION. 



Stands, he places them over the burning pit ; where 

 the horrible sulphur-fumes, rising up into the hive, 

 soon destroy all life within ; but not before you may 

 hear a loud humming noise, the dying cries, as it 

 were, of the thousands of bees as they fall from the 

 combs into the pit below, — cries that seem loudly to 

 reproach the cruel owner for his ingratitude to his 

 faithful servants, rewarding them with death after 

 they have worked hard, and done all they could for 

 him, and were ready to do a great deal more. 



' Ah ! see where robb'd and murder'd in that pit 

 Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch'd, 

 Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 

 And fixed o'er sulphur; while, not dreaming ill. 

 The happy people, in their waxen cells, 

 Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 

 Of temperance for winter poor ; rejoiced 

 To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 

 Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends; 

 And, used to milder scents, the tender race. 

 By thousands, tumble from their honey'd domes, 

 Convuls'd and agonising in the dust. 

 And was it then for this you roam'd the spring, 

 Intent from flower to flower ? for this you toil'd 

 Ceaseless the burning summer heats away ? 

 For this in autumn searched the blooming waste, 

 Nor lost one sunny gleam ? for this sad fate ? 

 O man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long 

 Shall prostrate nature groan beneath your rage, 

 Awaiting renovation ? When obliged. 

 Must you destroy ? Of their ambrosial food 

 Can you not borrow ; and, in just return. 

 Afford them shelter from the wintry winds .'' 

 Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 

 Again regale them on some smiling day ?' 



Thomson. 



