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TO THE WARBLERS*. 



" On every bough the birdis herd I sing 

 With voice of angell in their harmonic" 



Chaucer, Assemble of Foules. 



Then hail, ye sweet Warblers ! continue to sing! 

 Ever charm by your presence the redolent Spring ! 

 Be your songs ever sacred to peace and to love, 

 And may harmony ever be found in the grove. 

 May the woods, dells, and vallies, resound with your 



voice ; 

 And may man in your freedom for ever rejoice. 

 No more may he wantonly death 'midst you send, 

 But become, as in duty, your patron and friend ; — 

 No more in your sorrows delight, nor the crime 

 Of involving your feathers in treacherous lime ; 

 No more may in prison your peace he beset; 

 No more may ensnare you with bait or in net. 

 May he cease to torment you in sport with dire p, : n! 

 And my song, ye sweet Warblers ! shall not be in 



vain ! 



* By Warblers here the reader will please to understand not 

 only the genus Motacilla or Sylvia, but also the whole tribe of 

 Song-birds. 



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