THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
159 
Exerting all his failing strength, 
Cheered by his friendly guide, 
The wounded swallow reachM, at length, 
The rushy bank, — and died. 
But still around his comrade threw 
His ever-wheeling flight ; 
Nor joined again the frolic crew. 
That skimmM the waters bright. 
Surprised and touched, I flung aside 
The murder-dealing gun — 
And " Not in vain, fond bird,'' I cried, 
" Thy deed of love is done. 
" Full many a swallow, sav'd by thee. 
Shall urge its swift career — 
And taste its harmless pleasures, free 
From danger as from fear. 
" To me a moral lesson be, 
With thoughts of thee to read, 
And shame the race that heartless see, 
A suffering brother's need ; 
