Page:The Cry of Nature.pdf/26

 her virgin heart; what ſimile more apt to excite the ſympathetic tear, than the turtle-dove forlorn, who mourns, with never-ceaſing wail, her murdered mate? Who can refuſe a ſigh to the ſadly-pleaſing ſtrains of Philomela?


 * When returning with her loaded bill,

Th' aſtoniſhed mother finds a vacant neſt, By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns, Robb’d: to the ground the vain proviſion falls; Her pinions ruffe, and low-drooping, ſcarce Can bear the mourner to the poplar ſhade, Where, all abandon’d to deſpair, ſhe ſings