Half-set, sing merrily their ev'ning song.
I ask not for the cause-it matters not.
It is enough for me to hear the sound
Of the remote exhilarating peal,
Now dying all away, now faintly heard,
And now with loud and musical relapse
Its mellow changes huddling on the ear.
So have I stood at eve on Isis' banks,
To hear the merry Christ Church bells rejoice.
So have I sat too in thy honour'd shades,
Distinguish'd Magdalen, on Cherwell's brink,
To hear thy silver Wolsey tones so sweet.
And so too have I paus'd and held my oar,
And suffer'd the slow stream to bear me home,
While Wykeham's peal along the meadow ran.
Now let September and October come,
Twin months of slaughter. Persecution starts,
And ere the dewy day be half awake
Begins her bloody work. The fields are throng'd
With licens'd murderers, who slay for sport.
So when the jealous Herod gave the word,
The cruel ruffian thirsted for the blood
Of helpless innocents. And so the sword,
Another Herod reigning, was let loose
To spill the blood of sleeping Huguenots.
Alcanor joins them not. He envies none
The pleasures of the field, and much admires
To hear the squabble and the loud harangue,
And all for game; to see the British soul
So puny grown, it quarrels for a feather.
'Tis a mean wretch, and scarce deserves to live,
Who cannot find amusements void of pain.
O undeserving parent, who neglects
To train the infant boy to deeds humane.
See how his sports, his pastimes, dearest child,
Are all to be indulg'd, whether he choose
To whip his nurse, to lash the sleeping puppy,
Or pinch the tail of unoffending puss.
Go, catch the surly beetle, and suspend
The harmless pris'ner by the wing or tail,
To make the booby laugh. But if, so loud
His well-deserv'd rebuke, the timid child
Stands off alarm'd, then let him see thee crush
The thing he fears. Or give it liberty,
Not unconstrain'd, as Heav'n bestow'd it. No,
Set the gall'd pris'ner free, but lock his chain
Full-fast about him. Bid him to the field,
But pluck no arrow from his side.
And feels that liberty is wondrous sweet,
Tho' the crook'd pin fast fix'd, and trailing thread,
Admit no remedy. A while he lives-
His thread clings fast-he famishes, and dies.
Go, Tom, a ladder bring, and reach the nest,
"Tis but a chirping sparrow's, and 'twill serve
To pacify the boy. What if the dam
In patient expectation sit, and hope
Another day shall all her cares reward,
And bring to light her helpless progeny?
Forth from her high maternal office dragg'd
With rude indignity, behold she comes
A joyful victim to the callous boy.
He with delight her ruffled plumes surveys,
Seizes her nest, and the dear charge purloins;
Then with a frantic laugh down drops the eggs,
And blindfold hops to crush them as he goes.
Ah! hapless bird, yet happy still, if this
Be all the pain thy cruel foe intends.
Nothing avail'd thy labour of an age
To weave the genial nest, with many a root
And many a straw far fetch'd? 'Twas all in vain.
Half-starv'd Grimalkin claims thee for his prey,
And in his cruel paw fast-clutch'd devours
Relentless. Or the boy aware, himself
Cuts short existence, and allots to puss
Only the sever'd head. Hard-hearted lout,
Steel'd executioner, behold the blood
Of parent and of offspring. Burn with shame;
For thou hast done a deed which Heav'n abhors.
Let the wise parent laugh, to see how well
His looby boy has learn'd to be humane.
Let him applaud the bloody deed, and spare
The well-earn'd rod. In thee, great state,
Eternal glory of the Gentile world,
Just Athens, had the beardless youth presum'd A deed so villanous, the public arm
Had the mean wretch chastis'd, till it had wak'd
A soul humane and sensible of wrong.
Behold and mark the sturdy fool, at length
Grown up to man, (if such he may be deem'd,
Possessing nothing human but the shape,)
What are his sports? and how delights the dunce
From morn to night to spend the live-long day?
'Can the swarth Ethiopian change his skin?'
Or can the leopard at his will be white,
And lay his spots aside? From morn to eve
See how he toils with generous intent
To be the murd'rer of the tim'rous hare,
To win the brush of Reynard nobly skill'd,
To vex the badger; or with cruel joy
Stoops o'er the cock-pit, eager to behold
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