THE SWALLOWS.

An Elegy.

PART I.

ERE yellow Autumn from our plains retired,
And gave to wintry storms the varied year,
The swallow race with prescient gift inspired,
To southern climes prepared their course to steer.
On Damon's roof a large assembly sate,

His roof a refuge to the feather'd kind.
With serious look he mark'd the grave debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind—

'Observe yon twittering flock, my gentle maid, Observe, and read the wondrous ways of Hea

ven!

With us through Summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food and sunshine to their wants were given.

'But now, by secret instinct taught, they know
The near approach of elemental strife,
Of blustering tempests, and of chilling snow,
With every pang and Scourge of tender life.
Thus warn'd, they meditate a speedy flight,
For this e'en now they prune their vigorous wing,
For this each other to the toil excite,

And prove their strength in many a sportive ring. 'No sorrow loads their breast, or dims their eye, To quit their wonted haunts, or native home; Nor fear they launching on the boundless sky, In search of future settlements to roam.

They feel a power, an impulse all divine,

That warns them hence, they feel it and obey;
To this direction all their cares resign,

Unknown their destined stage, unmark'd their
way.

'Peace to your flight! ye mild, domestic race:
O! for your wings to travel with the sun!
Health brace your nerves,
and zephyrs aid your

расе,

Till your long voyage happily be done.

See, Delia, on my roof your guests to-day,
To-morrow on my roof your guests no more;
Ere yet 'tis night, with haste they wing away,
To-morrow lands them on some happier shore.'
How just the moral in this scene convey'd!

And what, without a moral, would we read?
Then mark what Damon tells his gentle maid,
And with his lesson register the deed.

So youthful joys fly like the summer's gale,
So threats the winter of inclement age;
Life's busy plot a short fantastic tale!

And Nature's changeful scenes, the shifting
stage!

And does no friendly power to man dispense
The joyful tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence,
Beyond the gloomy grave and shortlived Time?
Yes, yes; the sacred oracles we hear

That point the path to realms of endless joy,
That bid our trembling hearts no danger fear,
Though clouds surround, and angry skies annoy,

Then let us wisely for our flight prepare,

Nor count this stormy world our fix'd abode ; Obey the call, and trust our Leader's care,

To smooth the rough, and light the darksome road.

Moses, by grant divine, led Israel's host

Through dreary paths to Jordan's fruitful side; But we a loftier theme than theirs can boast; A better promise, and a nobler guide.

PART II.

AT length the Winter's howling blasts are o'er,
Array'd in smiles the lovely Spring returns,
Now fuel'd hearths attractive blaze no more,
And every breast with inward fervour burns.
Again the daisies peep, the violets blow,
Again the vocal tenants of the grove,
Forgot the pattering hail or driving snow,
Renew the lay to melody and love.

And see, my Delia, see, o'er yonder stream,
Where on the bank the lambs in gambols play;
Alike attracted by the sunny gleam,

Again the swallows take their wonted way.
Welcome, ye gentle tribe, your sports pursue,
Welcome again to Delia and to me;
Your peaceful councils on my roof renew,
And plan new settlements from danger free.
Again I'll listen to your grave debates,

Again I'll hear your twittering songs unfold What policy directs your wandering states, What bounds are settled,and what tribes enroll'd.

Again I'll hear you tell of distant lands,
What insect nations rise from Egypt's mud,
What painted swarms subsist on Libya's sands,
What Ganges yields, and what the' Euphratean
flood.

Thrice happy race! whom Nature's call invites
To travel o'er her realms with active wing,
To taste her various stores, her best delights,
The Summer's radiance, and the sweets of
Spring:

While we are doom'd to bear the restless change.
Of varying seasons, vapours dank and dry,
Forbid like you in milder climes to range,

When wintry storms usurp the louring sky. Yet know the period to your joys assign'd, Know, ruin hovers o'er this earthly ball, As lofty towers stoop prostrate to the wind, Its secret props of adamant shall fall. But when yon radiant sun shall shine no more, The spirit, freed from sin's tyrannic sway, On lighter pinions borne than yours, shall soar To fairer realms beneath a brighter ray, To plains etherial, and celestial bowers, Where wintry storms no rude access obtain, Where blasts no lightning, and no tempest lours; But ever smiling Spring and Pleasure reign.

THE END.

C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick.

T