 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
FABLE X. THE NIGHTINGALE AND CUCKOW.
A tuneful Nightingale, whose warbling throat
Was form'd for lofty song,
With every sweet harmonious note
He charm'd the listening throng:
The hooting Cuckow was displeas'd alone,
Condemn'd his manner, and extoll'd her own.
Was form'd for lofty song,
With every sweet harmonious note
He charm'd the listening throng:
The hooting Cuckow was displeas'd alone,
Condemn'd his manner, and extoll'd her own.
“This screaming fop, quoth she, that scares
All creatures with his din;
When folks are listening to my airs,
Forsooth he's putting in.
Here's such a chattering kept, and odious noise,
My song's quite spoil'd with his confounded voice.”
All creatures with his din;
When folks are listening to my airs,
Forsooth he's putting in.
Here's such a chattering kept, and odious noise,
My song's quite spoil'd with his confounded voice.”
The injur'd songster modestly reply'd;
“Since you perform so fine,
The contest let some judge decide,
And try your skill with mine;
Vanquish'd, I'll your superior genius own.”
The Cuckow shook her head, and cry'd 'twas done,
“Since you perform so fine,
The contest let some judge decide,
And try your skill with mine;
Vanquish'd, I'll your superior genius own.”
The Cuckow shook her head, and cry'd 'twas done,
A solemn plodding Ass that graz'd the plain
Was for an umpire chose:
The Nightingale advanc'd his strain,
And charm'd with every close.
The Cuckow's note was one unvary'd tone,
Exceeding hoarse, yet pleas'd, she roar'd it on.
Was for an umpire chose:
The Nightingale advanc'd his strain,
And charm'd with every close.
The Cuckow's note was one unvary'd tone,
Exceeding hoarse, yet pleas'd, she roar'd it on.
Appeal was made; the judge this sentence gave,
“You, sirrah, Nightingale!
Of music you some smatterings have,
And may in time do well;
But for substantial song, I needs must say,
My friend, the Cuckow, bears the bell away.”
“You, sirrah, Nightingale!
Of music you some smatterings have,
And may in time do well;
But for substantial song, I needs must say,
My friend, the Cuckow, bears the bell away.”
THE MORAL.
Mackworth, who reads thy well-digested lines,
Where eloquence with nervous reason shines,
Sees art and judgment flow through every page,
The patriot's zeal free from indecent rage;
So pure thy style, thy manners so refin'd,
Your pen transmits the candour of your mind.
Where eloquence with nervous reason shines,
Sees art and judgment flow through every page,
The patriot's zeal free from indecent rage;
So pure thy style, thy manners so refin'd,
Your pen transmits the candour of your mind.
Yet happier he that has the answer wrote,
In penury of sense, and dearth of thought:
Whilst Asses judge, and Faction claims a vote,
Abusive nonsense is th' admired note:
Where want of art and manners merit praise,
He robs the Cuckow of her ancient bays.
In penury of sense, and dearth of thought:
Whilst Asses judge, and Faction claims a vote,
Abusive nonsense is th' admired note:
Where want of art and manners merit praise,
He robs the Cuckow of her ancient bays.
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |