Classic Poem

ELEGY ON A ROBIN

Occasioned by seeing a favorite Cat approach the dead Bird, and after having examined it, leaving it
unhurt.

'T WAS when the snow had powder'd o'er
The nitid landscape — round,
And famish'd birds, could peck no more
The insect, from the ground, —
A solemn yew-tree's shade beneath
A piteous red-breast lay,
Struck by the icy hand of death;
Cold, as the parent clay!
On little hill of fleecy snow,
His beauteous corpse was laid,
Nor loud laments of shrilling woe,
Recall'd his parting shade:
Nor skilful bill , of red-breast dear,
Had form'd a decent grave,
Nor raised a mound, with pious care,
His loved remains — to save.
As story tells, in days of yore,
They left their scanty food —
Two helpless babes to cover o'er;
All famish'd in the wood:
Leaf, after leaf, unwearied brought
To raise the sylvan tomb:
But brother red-breast now forgot
Lay, friendless, in the gloom;
For, far away — the careful train
Of feather'd-folk, were flown,
None mourn'd the fate of robin, slain,
But trembled for his own.
'Twas Bully then, poor robin found,
As near the spot he drew,
All stretch'd along the hoary ground,
Beneath the frozen yew;
A cat of gentle, gen'rous mind,
Of step, sedate and slow,
Of mein demure, and mew refined,
And heart attuned to woe;
Unlike the feline-race, was he,
By tender mistress bred,
His docile mind, by sympathy,
To nobler thoughts was led:
He look'd, he paused, — when on his ear
Broke forth these awful words —
" Grimalkin stop! — a genius hear,
" The genius of the birds!
" 'Tis I, who guard from num'rous ills
" These tenants of the grove,
" 'Tis I, who tune their quivering bills
" To melody and love. "
" When forth in spring, they ardent lead
" Their young, — in mazy round,
" I plume the wing, I point the mead
" Where fruit and seeds abound;
" And when, by adverse fate they fall,
" Their destiny I mourn,
" Oft on the fleeting spirit call —
" And woo it, to return;
" But if averse, it wing its way
" Beyond the Stygian tide,
" To fair Elysium's purer day
" The wand'ring ghost, I guide;
" There — shalt thou robin, swell thy throat,
" And prune thy ruffled wing;
" While ravish'd with thy dulcet note
" E'en bards forbear to sing:
" Maro, perchance, may hear thy song,
" And woo thee, to his bower;
" Where laurels twine, the vines among,
" With every fragrant flower. "
Just then, the lucent form he saw! —
(If Laura's muse sing true)
And drawing back th' extended paw —
Pour'd forth — the plaintive — mew!
Soft pity touch'd his glowing breast,
(For pity, cats may move)
Retreating quick, he left to rest —
The tenant of the grove.