118 SELECT POETRY

Hither the vocal thrush repairs ;
Secure -he linnet sings ;

The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares
To clog her painted wings.

Sweet nightingale! oh quit thy haunt,
Yon distant woods among,

And round my friendly grotto chant
Thy sadly-pleasing song.

Let not the harmless redbreast fear,
Domestic bird, to come

And seek a safe asylum here,
With one that loves his home.

My trees for you, ye artless tribe,
Shall store of fruit preserve ;
Oh! let me thus your friendship bribe—
Come feed without reserve.
For you these cherries I protect,
To you these plums belong;
Sweet is the fruit that you have pecked,
But sweeter far your song.
Graves.

 

BETH-GELERT;!
OR, THE GRAVE OF THE GREYHOUND.

Tux spearman heard the bugle sound,
-And gaily smiled the morn,

1 The name of a village in North Wales. The circum-
stances narrated in this poem occurred in the reign of King
John of England, when Liewellyn the Great was the inde-
pendent Prince of North Wales.