Of a grand Masquerade not a notion had they—
And Birds are as curious as Ladies, they say.
What impatience was felt to be ready and drest!
Not a bird, nor a birdling could sleep in her nest.
What fighting for Characters!—shifting of plumes!
How the Raven desponds, and the Peacock presumes!
[6] ] At length ’tis arriv’d—the grand, critical Night!
And by thousands they throng to the scene of delight.
Not a fowl staid at home that had spirits, or wings—
Every Biped was there that pecks, flutters, or sings.