Cries he, “if I’m surpass’d in voice.”
“The fates entirely have the choice
Of all the lots—fair form is yours;
The eagle’s strength his prey secures;
The nightingale can sing an ode;
The crow and raven may forebode:
All these in sheer contentment crave
No other voice than Nature gave.”
By affectation be not sway’d,
Where Nature has not lent her aid;