Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/80

 He knew their voices, and their wings, Who smoothest soars, who sweetest sings; Who toils with ill-fledg'd pens to climb, And who attain'd the true sublime: Their merits he could well descry, He had so exquisite an eye; And when that fail'd, to show them clear, He had as exquisite an ear. It chanc'd, as on a day he stray'd, Beneath an academick shade, He lik'd, amidst a thousand throats, The wildness of a Woodlark's notes, And search'd, and spy'd, and seiz'd his game, And took him home, and made him tame; Found him on trial true and able, So cheer'd and fed him at his table. Here some shrewd critick finds I'm caught, And cries out, "Better fed than taught" — Then jests on game and tame, and reads And jests, and so my tale proceeds. Long had he study'd in the wood, Conversing with the wise and good; His soul with harmony inspir'd, With love of truth and virtue fir'd: His brethren's good and Maker's praise Were all the study of his lays; Were all his study in retreat, And now employ'd him with the great. His friendship was the sure resort Of all the wretched at the court; But chiefly merit in distress His greatest blessing was to bless. — This