A redbreast singing cheer'd the humble spot;
A sparrow on the thatch in critic spleen
Thus took occasion to reprove the strain:
"Dost thou," cried he, "thou dull dejected thing,
Presume to emulate the birds of spring?
Can thy weak warbling dare approach the thrush
Or blackbird's accents in the hawthorn bush?
Or with the lark dost thou poor mimic, vie,
Or nightingale's unequal'd melody?
These other birds possessing twice thy fire