Classic Poem

A TURTLE-DOVE , with sweetness blest,
Courting tranquillity and rest,
Avoiding discord, care, and strife,
Led with his mate a happy life.
A Turkey-cock, of lofty mien,
That stalk'd full stately on the green,
With scorn the gentler bird beheld;
Whom in conceit he so excell'd.
“Behold,” he cry'd, “an useless race,
“As void of spirit as of grace,
“Who not like me can boldly dare,
“As some brave champion fam'd in war,
“In awful dignity attir'd,
“By all or envy'd or admir'd:
“But whom the quiv'ring leaf may fright,
“And who, like cowards, shun the fight.”
The Dove, o'erhearing, mildly said,
“For feats like these I was not made;
“Renown'd for such let others be;
“But peace and gentleness for me.”
He ceas'd—the Turkey stalk'd away,
And soon he mingled in a fray;
Too soon; for of the feather'd kind
A powerful foe he chanc'd to find,
Eager they sight, the Turkey falls,
And loud, tho' vain, for succour calls.
The Dove from far survey'd the scene,
And doubly bless'd the calm serene,
Desires no cruel war to wage,
Nor in contentious strife engage,
But happy, in sequester'd grove,
To live and die in peace and love.