OF BIRDS. 
«3l 
But how {hall I relate in numbers rude, 
The pangs for poor Cbryfomitris decreed ! 
When from a neighb’ring fpray aghafl fhe view’d 
The favage ruffian’s inaufpicious deed ! 
So, wrapt in grief, fome heart-Brack matron Bands, 
While horrid flame furround her children’s room 1 
On heav’n (he calls, and wrings her trembling hands, 
Conftrain’d to fee, but not prevent their doom. 
O grief of griefs! with ffirieking voice, ffie cry’d. 
What fight is this that I have liv’d to fee ? 
O ! that I had a maiden Gold-finch died, 
From love’s falfe joys, and bitter forrows free S 
Was it for this, alas! with weary bill, 
Was it for this, I pois’d th’ unwieldy firaw ? 
For this I pick’d the mofs from yonder hill? 
.Nor ffiunn’d the pond’rous chaff along to draw? 
Was it for this, I cull’d the wool with care ; 
And firove with all my fkill our work to crown? 
For this, with pain I bent the flubborn hair, 
And lin’d our cradle with the thiflle’s down ? 
Was it for this my freedom 1 refign’d; 
And ceas’d to rove from beauteous plain to plain ? 
For this I fat at home whole days confin’d. 
And bore the fcorshing heat, and pealing rain ? 
