72
THE LARK'S NEST.
That her fond care might be a while supplied,—
So, because hunger will not be denied,
She leaves her nest reluctant; and in haste
But just allows herself to taste,
A dew drop, and a few small seeds—
Ah! how her fluttering bosom bleeds,
When the dear cradle she had fondly rear'd
All desolate appear'd!
And ranging wide about the field she saw
A setter huge, whose unrelenting jaw
Had crush'd her half-existing young;
Long o'er her ruin'd hopes the mother hung,
And vainly mourn'd,
Ere from the clouds her wanderer return'd:—
Tears justly shed by beauty, who can stand them?
He heard her plaintive tale with unfeign'd sorrow,
