Ballads, Founded on Anecdotes Relating to Animals Part 2

The eldest grew with manly grace, His years yet barely seven, A stripling of a sweeter face, Has never gaz'd on Heaven.

He was indeed a friend most rare, To chear his lonely mother, And aid her in her constant care His little baby-brother.

With these to Jessy much endear'd, Whom from the world she hid, Three nurslings more she fondly rear'd, Two lambkins and a kid.

Most tender playmates all the five, None stray'd the vale beyond, They were the happiest imps alive, All of each other fond.

And Jessy all with joy survey'd, With joy her heart ran o'er, When they their little gambols play'd, She spinning at her door.

But how mischance will intervene: This spot of sweet delight, One eventide, became a scene Of anguish and affright.

The elder boy, gay Donald, chanc'd, Far from the door to play, Lest, now within the vale advanc'd, His kid might roam away.

The mother sat to watch the vale, Nor yet his sport forbid; But starts to see the Eagle sail Above the trembling kid.

The kid began to quake and cry; Not so the braver boy, The full-winged savage to defy Was his heroic joy.

Still nearer sail'd the undaunted bird, Its destin'd deed undone, And when its ravenous scream she heard The mother join'd her son.

Their shouts united, and each arm In bold protection spread, Secur'd the kid from real harm, Tho' now with fear half dead,

Some furlongs from their cottage sill, Now pa.s.s'd this anxious scene; There they had left, as safe from ill, The sleeping babe serene.

The savage bird the kid renounc'd, But round the cottage oft Rapid he wheel'd, and there he pounc'd, And bore the babe aloft.

Ah!--who can now that impulse paint, Which fires the mother's breast?

Nor toil, nor danger, makes her faint; She seeks this Eagle's nest.

But first with courage clear, tho' warm, As guides the martial shock, When British tars prepare to storm A fortress on a rock.

She bids, to mark the Eagle's flight, Young Donald watch below, While she will mount the craggy height, And to his aerie go.

With filial hope her son, who knew Her courage and her skill, Watch'd to parental orders true, Magnanimously still.

And now, his mother out of sight, He fixt his piercing eye On crags, that blaz'd in solar light, Whence eagles us'd to fly.

He saw, as far as eye may ken, A crag with blood defil'd, And entering this aerial den The Eagle and the child.

The boy, tho' trusting much in G.o.d, With generous fear was fill'd; Aware, that, if those crags she trod, His mother might be kill'd.

His youthful mind was not aware How nature may sustain Life, guarded by maternal care From peril, and from pain.

And now he sees, or thinks he sees (His heart begins to pant) A woman crawling on her knees, Close to the Eagle's haunt.

It is thy mother, gallant boy, Lo! up her figure springs: She darts, unheard, with speechless joy Between the Eagle's wings.

Behold! her arms its neck enchain, And clasp her babe below: Th' entangled bird attempts in vain Its burthen to o'erthrow.

Now Heaven defend thee, mother bold, Thy peril is extreme: Thou'rt dead, if thou let go thy hold, Scar'd by that savage scream;

And bravely if thou keep it fast, What yet may be thy doom!

This very hour may be thy last, That aerie prove thy tomb.

No! No! thank Heaven! O n.o.bly done!

O marvellous attack!

I see thee riding in the sun, Upon the Eagle's back.

In vain it buffets with its wings, In vain it wheels around; Still screaming, in its airy rings, It sinks towards the ground.

Run, Donald, run! she has not stirr'd, And she is deadly pale: She's dead; and with the dying bird Descending to the vale.

Lo! Donald flies.--She touches earth: O form'd on earth to shine!

O mother of unrivall'd worth, And sav'd by aid divine!

She lives unhurt--unhurt too lies The baby in her clasp; And her aerial tyrant dies Just strangled in her grasp.

What triumph swelled in Donald's breast, And o'er his features spread.

When he his living mother prest, And held the Eagle dead!

Angels, who left your realms of bliss.

And on this parent smil'd, Guard every mother brave as this, In rescuing her child!

THE STAG.

BALLAD THE FOURTH.

Blest be the boy, by virtue nurst, Who knows not aught of fear's controul, And keeps, in peril's sudden burst, The freedom of an active soul.

Such was a lively Tuscan boy, Who lived the youthful Ta.s.so's friend, Friendship and verse his early joy, And music, form'd with love to blend.

Love had inspir'd his tender frame, His years but two above eleven, The sister of his friend his flame!

A lovely little light of Heaven!

Born in the same propitious year, Together nurst, together taught; Each learn'd to hold the other dear, In perfect unison of thought.

Their forms, their talents, and their talk, Seem'd match'd by some angelic powers, Ne'er grew upon a rose's stalk A sweeter pair of social flowers.

Fortunio was the stripling's name, Cornelia his affection's queen, Both to all eyes, where'er they came, Endear'd by their attractive mien.

For like a pair of fairy sprites, Endued with soft aetherial grace, Enrapt in musical delights They hardly seem'd of mortal race!