[p14] A poor captive Starling, who liv’d near the road,
They soon spied, and enquir’d for the Poet’s abode:
But ’twas useless, indeed! tho’ they made a great rout,
For he only kept crying, “I cannot get out!”
This want of attention the Peacock enrag’d,
And he fiercely exclaim’d, “Ha! ’tis well thou art cag’d!
But, dear Mr. Parrot, methought that I saw
The gilt Ball on the Dome of the Lady Macaw:
With her we will breakfast at Aviary Hall,
And who knows what success may our visit befal.”