But how among the dearest brood
Calamity will oft intrude,
And fairest hopes prevent;
How quick can desolation's storm
With horrid agonies deform,
The scene of sweet content!

As early one autumnal eve,
Catau was eager to receive
Her father to his feast;
She look'd without her door, and saw
Aloft a little blaze of straw,
That in the wind encreas'd.

Alas! from her high chimney's top
A dangerous spark had chanc'd to drop,
And fir'd the fav'rite nest!
She sees the affrighted parent fly,
Around her young, and seem to cry
"Oh succour the distrest!"

Catau was an heroic maid,
Most apt to lend a sufferer aid;
With quick-ey'd zeal she found
A ladder, and a triple fork,
On which to lift each callow Stork,
And guide them to the ground.

With pity's just, and dauntless, haste,
She mounts the ladder rightly plac'd,