To Memphis, or the banks of Nile,
Where bright suns for ever smile.
But, alas! nor peace nor rest
Dwells within my hapless breast:
Love still builds and hatches there,
Full-fledged loves for flight prepare;
Some, unhatch'd, yet quiet dwell,
Some just struggling through the shell,
While their ceaseless chirping noise
Every hope of peace destroys.
Some usurp the parent's care,
And the younger nestlings rear;
These, when grown, will young ones breed;
Others still to them succeed.
Thus, alas! what hope remains—
What can ease my bosom's pains,
Since within its secret cell
Loves innumerable dwell?
ODE XXXIV.—TO HIS MISTRESS.
Fly me not, thou scornful fair,
Why reject me so?
Is it that my scanty hair
Is whiter than the snow?
'De Aëris et Elementi defectu, et Vita sub Aquis,' assures us that swallows retire to the bottom of the water during the winter; and that it is common for the fishermen on the coasts of the Baltic to take them in their nets in large knots, clinging together by their bills and claws; and that on their being brought into a warm room, they will separate, and begin to flutter about as in spring. Kircher, in his book 'De Mundus Subterraneus,' affirms the same, and that in the northern countries they hide themselves under ground in the winter, whence they are often dug out."—Longuepierre.
If the reader be desirous of further information on this point, he may consult Buffon's Natural History, or Goldsmith's Animated Nature.
