No cadence was ever perform’d with such neatness:
Grassini herself never sang with such sweetness.
The favor was next of the Parrot requested,
Who, clearing his throat, was quite hoarse, he protested:
Yet gave “Pretty Poll,”[1] with such fine intonation,
Sir Argus cried “Bravo!” and scream’d approbation.
The Travellers now with fatigue were opprest,
So they both bade adieu, and retired to rest:
A sun-shiny morn to their slumbers succeeded,
When, wak’d to new life, on their way they proceeded.