And first the big one see,
So full of roguish glee!
With light and merry bound
He leaps upon the ground;
Then springs up on the bougd,
We will not praise him now.
The merry bird behold,—
He's brought here to be sold.
And now the small one see!
A modest look has he,
And yet he's such apother
As his big roguish brother.
'Tis chiefly when all's still
He loves to show his will.
The bird so small and bold,—
He's brought here to be sold.
Observe this little love,
This darling turtle dove!
All maidens are so neat,
So civil, so discreet
Let them their charms set loose,
And turn your love to use;
The gentle bird behold,—
She's brought here to be sold.
Their praises we won't tell;
They'll stand inspection well.
They're fond of what is new,—
And yet, to show they're true,
Nor seal nor letter's wanted;
To all have wings been granted.
The pretty birds behold,—
Such beauties ne'er were sold!
1795. ——- THE MISANTHROPE.
AT first awhile sits he,
With calm, unruffled brow;
His features then I see,
Distorted hideously,—
An owl's they might be now.
What is it, askest thou?
Is't love, or is't ennui?
'Tis both at once, I vow.