FOR CHILDREN. 105

THE DROWNING FLY.

tw yonder vase behold a drowning fly!

Its little feet how vainly does it ply!

Its cries I understand not, yet it cries ;

And tender hearts can feel its agonies.

Poor, helpless victim ! and will no one save,
Will no one snatch thee from the threatening grave ?
Is there no friendly hand, no helper nigh ?

And must thon, little struggler, must thou die ?
Thou shalt not, while this hand can set thee free,
Thou shalt not die—this hand shall rescue thee ;
My finger’s tip shall prove a friendly shore ;—
There, trembler! all thy dangers now are o’er:
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear;
Go, join thy buzzing brothers in the air.

Away it flies—resumes its harmless play,

And lightly gambols in the golden ray.

Smile not, spectators, at this humble deed—

For you, perhaps, a nobler task’s decreed,

A young and sinking family to save,

To raise the infant from destruction’s wave ;

To you for help the victims lift their eyes—

Oh! hear, for pity’s sake, their plaintive cries !

Ere long, unless some guardian interpose,

Oer their devoted heads the flood may close.
Aikin.

 

LUCY GRAY.

No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor};

The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a cottage door !