Ballads | Page 2

in his death!"
'Twas thus the feeling Edward griev'd,
Nor could his grief divine,

What honours, by pure love conceived,
Brave Fido, would be thine!
When Lucy heard of Fido's fate,
What showers of tears she shed!

No cost would she have thought too great
To celebrate the dead.
But gold had not the power to raise
A semblance of her friend;
Yet
kind compassion, who surveys,
Soon bids her sorrow end.
A sculptor, pity's genuine son!
Knew her well-founded grief;
And
quickly, tho' he promised none,
Gave her the best relief;
He, rich in Lucy's sister's heart,
By love and friendship's aid,
Of
Fido, with the happiest art,
A secret statue made.
By stealth in Lucy's chamber plac'd,
It charm'd the mourner there,

Till Edward, with new glory grac'd,
Rejoin'd his faithful fair.
The marble Fido in their sight,
Enhanc'd their nuptial bliss;
And
Lucy every morn, and night,
Gave him a grateful kiss.

THE ELEPHANT.
BALLAD THE SECOND.
Say, nature, on whose wond'rous reign
Delighted fancy dwells,
Of
all thy numerous brutal train
What animal excells?
What quadruped most nobly vies
In virtue with mankind,
Like man

deliberately wise,
And resolutely kind?
Beneath a form vast and uncouth
Such excellence is found:

Sagacious Elephant! thy truth,
Thy kindness is renown'd.
More mild than sanguinary man,
Whose servant thou hast prov'd,

Oft in his frantic battle's van
Thy bulk has stood unmoved:
There oft thy spirit griev'd, to see
His murd'rous rage encrease,
'Till
mad himself, he madden'd thee.
Thou nobler friend to peace!
Acts of thy courage might occur
To grace heroic song;
But I thy
gentle deeds prefer,
Thou strongest of the strong!
Where India serves the British throne,
In scenes no longer wild,
A
menial Elephant was known,
Most singularly mild!
It was his custom, fresh and gay
By his attendant led,
Walking to
water, every day,
To pass a gard'ner's shed,
This gard'ner, of good natured fame,
Admir'd the noble beast;
And
gave him, whensoe'er he came,
A vegetable feast.
Some dainty, from his stall bestow'd,
So made the beast his friend;

'Twas joy to see, at this abode,
His blythe proboscis bend.
Not coarsely eager for his food,
He seem'd his love to court,
And
oft delighted, as he stood.
To yield his children sport.
As if to thank them for each gift,
With tender, touching care,
The
boys he to his back would lift,
And still caress them there.
In short his placid gambols seem'd
Affection so profound,
His
friendship for this man was deem'd
A wonder all around.
But O! can humour's giddy range
Mislead the brutal mind?
Can

elephants their friendship change,
As fickle as mankind?
See now the hero of my song,
That theme of every tongue!
Alone,
and fierce, he stalks along,
As if with frenzy stung:
See! to the gard'ner's well-known shed
Impetuous he flies;
Seizes
his friend in silent dread,
And lifts him to the skies.
High as his trunk the man can bear,
Th' astonish'd man he bore,

Who vainly struggled in the air,
And trembled more and more.
So wild, so swift, the monster past,
All deem'd him mad and fled.--

Thro' a high window gently cast,
With terror almost dead,
The astounded gard'ner view'd with awe
The savage speed away;

But soon with gratitude he saw
The source of his dismay:
Unthought of source! for now inflam'd
A ravenous tyger sprung,

And at the window vainly aim'd
To which he trembling clung.
And now with joy his heart strings swell,
And blest he deems his lot;

For the foil'd tyger as he fell,
A latent marksman shot.
The Elephant returns:--O Heaven!
How tender was his air,
Seeing
the friend, whose life was given
To his preserving care!
For, conscious of the danger, he,
Most providently kind,
From
unseen ill to set him free,
Such rescue had designed.
Ye, whom a friend's dark perils pain,
When terrors most unnerve him,

Learn from this Elephant to strain
Your sinews to preserve him.

THE EAGLE.

BALLAD THE THIRD.
Nature, what heart may here by thee,
Most truly brave be styled?

The tender mother's it must be,
When struggling for her child!
A Scottish tale, of serious truth,
Will make the maxim clear,
I heard
it from a shepherd youth,
As nature's self sincere.
On Scotland's wildest, loneliest ground,
The subject of my tale

Liv'd, where incumbent mountains frown'd
High o'er her peaceful
vale.
The heroine of nature, she
No vain ambition knew,
Her bairns and
goats she nurs'd with glee,
To love and labour true.
Her hut within the valley stood,
Where thin grass grew alone,
No
shade had she from lofty wood.
But much from towering stone.
For o'er her vale a mountain's crown,
In loftiest horror, hung,
A
ravenous Eagle half way down,
Nurs'd her imperial young.
Jessy herself, so was she call'd,
Possess'd an eagle's eye,
And her
quick vision unappall'd
Had mark'd the nest on high.
But of a fearless heart, she deem'd
The royal bird her friend,
Nor
thought its rage, tho' fierce it scream'd,
Would to her vale descend.
With plunder borne thro' distant air,
She saw it stain the rock,
Yet
trusted it would nobly spare
Her little neighbouring flock.
Ah Jessy, oft the fancied friend,
Commits a cruel wrong;
Weak
neighbours seldom should depend
On kindness from the strong.
No manly guard hast thou with thee
A savage foe to scare,
For thy
good man far off to sea
The distant billows bear.

That best of guards thou oft has known,
But of his aid bereft,
Two
little boys