Literary Cadet And Rhode Island Statesman

The stanzas to the Swallow, were written by Cowper, a poet, who in our opinion, has received more praise for his productions, than he was ever deserving of. It is not to be denied that he was generally, a chaste and interesting poet, but still he was not the incorruptible and immaculate man, that his flatterers would make him. The fifth stanza does no great credit to his taste, or selection of words; and we are not a little surprised to find, that he should suffer it to go before the public.

THE SWALLOW.

I am fond of the swallow-I learn, from her flight,
Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love;
How seldom on earth do we see her alight!
She dwells in the skies-she is ever above.

It is on the wing that she takes her repose,
Suspended, and pois'd in the regions of air,
'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows,
It is wing'd like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.

She comes in the earth, all the summer she stays,
And, dreading the cold, she still follows the sun-
So true to our love, we should covet his rays,
And the place where he shines not, immediately shun.

'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,
And only when building a nest for her young:
Were it not for her brood. she would never bestow
A thought upon any thing filthy as dung.

Let us leave it ourselves, ('tis a mortal abode)
To bask every moment in infinite love:
Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the road
That leads to the day-spring appearing above.