The wind is rustling in the oak; They seem to hear the tread of feet; They start, they rise, look round the rock; Again they smile, again they meet, But see! the grey mist from the lake Dark storms the murmuring forests shake, To Damon's homely hut I fly; I see it smoking o'er the plain : When storms are past,—and fair the sky, I'll often seek my Cave again. GEORGE KEATE. About 1730-1797. Keate resided some years at Geneva, and published an Account of its History, Government, and Laws; which Voltaire, who was his friend and correspondent, once designed to translate. He is best known by his entertaining account of the Pelew Islands. His collected poems were published in two small 4to vols. 1781; he afterwards printed an Epistle to Angelica Kauffman, and the Distressed Poet, a Serio-Comic Poem in three Cantos. 'TWAS THE TWO FLIES. A FABLE. Written in 1757. WAS at an ancient rural seat, A country gentleman's retreat, The usual hour when dinner ends, Round which was seen on ev'ry side, Old ancestors in order hung, And coats of arms between them strung, Such fruits as Summer-months produce, Two Flies extravagantly gay, A false philosophy pursu'd, That pleasure was the sov'reign Good, A doctrine which in days of yore A certain Greek had taught before. Each hour their scene of life they changed, Now gardens, fields, and meadows ranged, Of every flower enjoy'd the bloom, And wanton'd in the rich perfume. Luxurious oft they would repose On the soft foliage of the rose, Or in the morn the dew-drops sup From the sweet lily's silver cup; Nay, dared the fragrant odour seek Of Stella's lip, or Stella's cheek : Nor would one single wish restrain Their summum bonum to attain. Fortune, or Fate decreed, this way Our young adventurers should stray; Who marking such delicious cheer, Resolved to fix their quarters here; Down on the table they alight, Indulge their taste, and feast their sight; With hasty step they walk about The scented melon's rugged coat, Each glass they sipp'd, each plate they try'd, Then pierced the peach's velvet side; Nor cherry, fig, or juicy grape Could their insatiate touch escape. At length upon a little jar Of floating sweetmeats, from afar Their eyes they threw, and round the rim In many a circling eddy skim: Now bolder on the border dance, And spite of danger still advance : Now fully gorged with his repast, |