THE SHEPHERD.

H, gentle Shepherd! thine the lot to tend,
Of all that feels distress, the most assail'd,
Feeble, defenceless: lenient be thy care;
But spread around thy tenderest diligence
In flowery Spring-time, when the new-dropp'd

lamb,

Tottering with weakness by his mother's side,

Feels the fresh world about him; and each thorn,

Hillock, or furrow, trips his feeble feet:

Oh! guard his meek, sweet innocence from all

The innumerous ills that rush around his life;
Mark the quick kite, with beak and talons prone,
Circling the skies to snatch him from the plain;
Observe the lurking crows; beware the brake,-
There the sly fox the careless minute waits;
Nor trust thy neighbour's dog, nor earth, nor sky :
Thy bosom to a thousand cares divide:
Eurus oft flings his hail; the tardy fields
Pay not their promised food; and oft the dam
O'er her weak twins with empty udder mourns,
Or fails to guard, when the bold bird of prey
Alights, and hops in many turns around,
And tires her also turning: to her aid

Be nimble, and the weakest in thine arms Gently convey to the warm cote, and oft, Between the lark's note and the nightingale's, His hungry bleating still with tepid milk;—