- In fairy lands where trees could walk,
- Where hills could dance and Robins talk,
- A gallant Red Breast, chanc'd to stray,
- Among the flowers of beauteous May,
- As light he hopp'd, and peck'd the ground,
- A female Red Breast, flutter'd round.
- Her sparkling eye, of mildest fire,
- Her motions form'd to move desire,
- Her glowing breast, of brightest red,
- Her graceful neck and rolling head,
- Her yellow bill and breathing throat,
- Her brownish back, and mellow note,
- His little breast, with trembling fill'd,
- And thro' his nerves, soft pleasure thrill'd,
- He gaz'd and sigh'd, and sigh'd again,
- Then sweetly sung his am'rous strain :
- "Fairest of birds, as good as fair,
- "No birds so charming wings the air!
- "The mighty eagle, mounts the skies,
- "And swift as wind, the pigeon flies,
- "The dove delights, in pensive strains,
- "And yellow birds, flit o'er the plains,
- "But you, dear Red Breast, all excell,
- "For none can sing or fly as well."
- Her colours brighten'd, while he sung.
- She caught the praises of his tongue.
- While he exulting, flutt'd gay;
- With bill in bill, they coo and play,
- Then flew, enraptur'd to the grove,
- And sung, all day the joys of love,
- Now on the shrubs, with music rung;
- Sitting, flying, chirping, wooing,
- Flitting, hopping, billing, cooing,
- Sportive, thus, they pass'd the day,
- No bird so true and blest as they!
- As blith one morn, they gaily sung,
- And soft, and sweet, their voices rung,
- Another Red Breast, Debonair,
- With envious eyes, survey'd the pair.
- He plum'd his quills, and clear'd his throat,
- Each gallant art, each mellow note,
- And sprightly grace, this Red Breast knew,
- She sweetly sung, and swiftly flew.
- Around the fair, he flew and sung,
- Love and music, fir'd his tongue.
- Her charms he told, with artful strain,
- "How sweet, to love, and love again!
- "Pleasure springs, from freely ranging,
- "Highest rapture, flows from changing."
- With list'ning ears she heard him sing,
- With him she flew, on gayest wing,
- And soon amid a Laurel's shade,
- Forgot the vows, she once had made.
- There they sung, in sweetest measure,
- Toy'd and glanc'd, with amrous pleasure,
- 'Till nestling, on a dusky spray,
- They sunk to rest, with sinking day.
- But She no longer clos'd her eyes,
- Than round, her injur'd lover flies,
- With wings his eyes, he seems to hide,
- And now, her faithless vows to chide;
- Bleeding now, she sees him lying,
- Wounded, flutt'ring, gasping, dying!
- Distress'd, she starts, but wakes to woe,
- Remorseful tears, begin to flow,
- And soon, she spies the rising day,
- And mournful, soon, she flies away;
- Flies to seek, her injur'd lover,
- Where in the grove, they us'd to hover,
- But oh! before she found his nest,
- With lead, a fowler pierc'd her breast.
- Down she flutter'd, bleeding, dying,
- On the ground behold her lying.
- His name she moans, with dying breath,
- Her faithless vows, laments in death;
- "Oh, injur'd bird," she panting cry'd,
- Then gasp'd and struggled, droop'd and died!
History and Legacy of Wild Birds Including Historic Ornithology and Other Topics of Interest
06 November 2013
The Two Red Breasts - An 1800 Poem
Labels:
poetry