O merry Bird (faid I) that fears no fnares,
That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn,
Feels no fad thouo-hts, nor cruciatino- cares
To gain more good, or fhun what might thee harm
Thy cloaths ne're wear, thy meat is every where.
Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water cleer.
Reminds not what is paft, nor whats to come doft fear
The dawning morn with fongs thou doll; prevent,
Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew,
So each one tunes his pretty inftrument.
And warbling out the old, begin anew.
And thus they pafs their youth in fummer feafon.
Then follow thee into a better Region,
where winter's never felt by that fweet airy legion
Man at the beft a creature frail and vain. In knowledg ignorant, in ftrength but weak, Subje6t to forrows, lolTes, licknefs, pain. Each ftorm his ftate, his mind, his body break, From fome of thefe he never finds celTation, But day or night, within, without, vexation. Troubles from foes, from friends, from deareft, near'ft Relation