The Owl, The Nightingale, and The Eagle

A NIGHTINGALE on hawthorn spray,
Pour'd her melodious plaintive lay.
An aged oak, whose branches threw
A pleasing gloom, was close in view,
And shelter to an owl bestow'd,
From whose rough throat harsh discord flow'd.
Neither side gave marks of favor,
Each call'd t'other noisy neighbour;
And whensoe'er they chanc'd to meet,
With malice were they both replete.

The Nightingale sang all the night;
The Owl he hooted it downright,
And deem'd it was a shameful thing
A bird should sit all night and sing;
While t'other thought it equal breach
Of manners, for to stand and screech.
But those which are the most in fault,
Are often loudest in retort;
Like ill-assorted men and wives,
Who lead uncomfortable lives.
        'Midst rocks and cliffs, secure retreat,
An Eagle long maintain'd his seat,
But from his brethren insults met,
He could not pardon nor forget.
Thus he in wrath forsook the place,
And bade adieu to all the race;
Many a weary league he past,
Then rested on a ship's topmast;
Here and there the sailors ran,
All wish'd to take him, to a man;

And many in the ardent hope
To catch him, scrambled up a rope;
But all their scrambling would not do,
When they got nigh him, off he flew,
And cut his passage thro' the air
Many a mile, he knew not where.
For objects searching, at length sees
The verdant land, the spreading trees;
At last he spy'd the lofty oak,
Of which has been already spoke,
There dropping on the topmost branch,
Resolv'd no creature should advance.
        The Nightingale with fear now shook.
The Owl, no boldness in his look,
Remark'd the circumstance was new,
Unpleasant, and was dangerous too;
In such a case their should be peace,
And hop'd their enmity would cease.
        The Eagle thought it best to roam,
Nor try to find his food near home;

Thus never offer'd to assail
The Owl, nor yet the Nightingale;
Who said--"Altho' a bird of prey,
"He may be gentle in his way;
"And could we gain him for a friend,
"It may be wisest in the end.
"Thus, an experiment to try,
"Suppose into the oak I fly,
"And as he silent sits aloft,
"Sing a strain melodious soft,
"Which may some tenderness impart,
"And soothe his hard obdurate heart."
        The plan was try'd. The Eagle swore
By Jupiter,--could he do more?
They need no danger apprehend,
He rather wish'd to be their friend;
Offended by his proper race,
If kind, they should supply their place.
Thus not assaulting one the other,
Malice nor rage had they to smother,

Altho' they were of diff'rent tribes,
To gen'ral kindness each subscribes;
And thus in a contented state,
Liv'd free from discord, strife, and hate.

MORAL.

Contentment, to retain at home,
Drive Discord from the social dome,
Whether paternal friendly ties,
Or connubial, it is wise.

Original fables by a Lady

Printed by W. Calvert, Shire Lane, Lincoln's Inn, for B. Crosby and Co. London, 1810

To your Royal Highness the following Fables are dedicated, with a wish that in an interval of leisure some transient amusement may be obtained.