The XXXIII. ODE of ANACREON imitated. To the SWALLOW

Soon as summer glads the sky, Hither, gentle bird, you fly; And with golden sunshine blest, Build your pretty plaster'd nest.

When the seasons cease to smile, (Wing'd for Memphis or the Nile) Charming bird, you disappear Till the kind succeeding year.

Like the Swallow, LOVE, depart! Respite for a while my heart.

No, he'll never leave his nest, Tyrant tenant of my breast! There a thousand WISHES try On their callow wings to fly;

There you may a thousand tell, Pertly peeping through the shell: In a state unfinish'd, rise Thousands of a smaller size.

Till their noisy chirpings cease, Never shall my heart have peace.

Feather'd ones the younglings feed, Till mature they're fit to breed; Then, to swell the crowded store, They produce their thousands more: Nor can mighty numbers count In my breast their vast amount.