One morning chill, before yon hill
Was gilded with the sun,
Or adze, or axe, or mallet had,
Their battering begun;
Two favourite ducks, had ’scaped the fox,
Well fed, and feather’d too;
In sportive play, aspiring they
Took wing, and off they flew.
With airy wheel, they quick did scale,
The lofty wall unscar’d,
The trees they topt, and down they dropt
A gun-shot from the yard.
A joiner ran, to fetch a gun
The wild ducks to secure,—
The gun he brought, with which he thought,
To make at least one fewer.
Through mist and dew, the contents flew,
A duck began to cry,
And one took flight, and left our sight,
Nor could we it espy.
This done, the man full swiftly ran,
To gather up his game,—
Both fore and aft, the people laugh’d,
To see his wild duck tame!
He set her down, she gaz’d around,
Wond’ring at such abuse,—
But for her weight, or else she might
Have pass’d for a wild goose.
In friendship sweet, the ducks soon meet,
And talk their frolic o’er,
And in their play, they seem to say,
They’ll fly so high no more.
Our thoughts oft may, our skill betray,
But actions they speak louder;
If he’d been still, he’d saved his skill,
Likewise his shot and powder!
THE BROKEN SEAL.
To sing of Southcotes clouded fame,
My muse presumes and tries to soar;
Though some may say, “Blot out her name,
Let it be seen or heard no more,”
I have a secret to reveal,
Effected by a broken Seal!
This poor Joanna had her day;—
While fair and bright the morning shone,
She led too many far astray,
Whose souls much better things had known;
She soon their ancient tribe could tell,
And signed their title with a Seal.
A poor, illiterate, labouring man,
Who went Joanna’s voice to hear,
A stranger to salvation’s plan,
Had linger’d on from year to year;
He thought she preach’d the gospel real,
And he of course must have a Seal!
Without a heart transform’d and new,
Joanna Southcote took him in,
And seal’d him her disciple true,
Without repenting of his sin;—
He slyly from his wife did steal,
The price of his mysterious Seal!
Her creed on such conditions hung,
That while her seals continued whole,
Then hope was bright, and faith was strong,
And they could neither fail nor fall;
But none could rescue those from hell,
Who chanc’d to crack or break the Seal!
When, lo, upon a certain day,
Examining his little store,
Joanna’s passport to survey;
His pocket book he rummag’d o’er,
But consternation turn’d him pale,
When he perceiv’d he’d broke his Seal!