TYRANT FLYCATC.IER, OR KING BIRD. 
Come now, ye cowards! ye whom Heaven 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 your 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 specked eggs within his nest appear, 
Then glov's 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 gadfly, and the balmy bee ; 
For her repose scours o’er th’ adjacent farm, 
Whence Hawks might dart, or lurking foes alarm 5 
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, 
Perched on the top of some tall, neighboring tree ; 
Thence, 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 plundering Jay, with honest scorn, 
Back to his woods; the Mocker, tp 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 ; 
Lured by the wellkiom h hum of favorite bees, 
As slow he hovers o’er the garden trees ; 
(hor all have failings, passions, whims that lead, 
ome favorite wish, some appetite to feed ;) 
Straight he alights, and, from the pear-tree, spies 
The circling stream of humming insects rise ; 
Selects his prey ; darts on the busy brood, 
And shrilly twitters o’er his savory food. 
Ah! ill-timed triumph! direful note to thee, 
That guides thy murderer to the fatal tree ; 
See where he skulks! and takes his gloomy stand, 
The deep-charged musket hanging in his hand ; 
And, gaunt for blood, he leans it on a rest, 
Prepared, and pointed at thy snow-white breast. 
Ah, friend! good friend! forbear that barbarous deed 
Against it valor, goodness, pity, plead ; 
Ife’era charg Briefs, a widow’s woe, 
Have reached thy soul, in mercy let him go! 
Yet, should the tear of pity nought avail, 
Let interest speak, let gratitude prevail ; 
Kill not thy friend, who thy whole harvest shields, 
And sweeps ten thousand vermin from thy fields ; 
Think how this dauntless bird, thy poultry’s guard, 
Pee ee Hawk and Eagle from thy ard, 
