THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.

My ramble ended, I return'd;

Beau, trotting far before,

The floating wreath again discern'd,
And plunging left the shore.

I saw him, with that lily cropp'd,

Impatient swim to meet

My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd

The treasure at my feet.

Charm'd with the sight, "The world," I cried,

"Shall hear of this thy deed:

My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superior breed:

"But chief myself I will enjoin, Awake at duty's call,

To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives me all."

COWPER.

TO A YOUNG ASS,

(ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT).

OOR little foal of an oppressed race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay'd,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,

Meek child of misery! thy future fate,-
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
"Which patient merit of th' unworthy takes?"

Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain,

To see thy wretched mother's shorten'd chain?
And truly very piteous is her lot,

Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot,

Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,

While sweet around her waves the tempting green!