F

THE RAVEN

[As printed in the Morning Post, March 10, 1798.]

[Vide ante, p. [169].]

Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree,
There was of Swine a large company.
They were making a rude repast,
Grunting as they crunch'd the mast.
Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high— 5
One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy.
Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly;
He belong'd, I believe, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than the blackest jet;
Flew low in the rain; his feathers were wet. 10
He pick'd up the acorn and buried it strait,
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?
He went high and low—
O'er hill, o'er dale did the black Raven go! 15
Many Autumns, many Springs;
Travell'd he with wand'ring wings;
Many Summers, many Winters—
I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he return'd, and with him a she; 20
And the acorn was grown a large oak-tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were jolly enow.
But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise:
His brow like a pent-house hung over his eyes. 25
He'd an axe in his hand, and he nothing spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At last he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
His young ones were kill'd, for they could not depart,
And his wife she did die of a broken heart! 30
[[1049]]The branches from off it the Woodman did sever!
And they floated it down on the course of the River:
They saw'd it to planks, and it's rind they did strip,
And with this tree and others they built up a ship.
The ship, it was launch'd; but in sight of the land, 35
A tempest arose which no ship could withstand.
It bulg'd on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast—
The auld Raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the blast.
He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls—
They be sunk! O'er the top-mast the mad water rolls. 40
The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet,
They had taken his all, and Revenge was Sweet!

G

LEWTI; OR THE CIRCASSIAN'S LOVE-CHANT[1049:1]

[Vide ante, p. [253].]