“I wish that our travels, my friend, could end here:
Yet dread lest we many miles further should go,
And never, at last, our sweet Poetess know!”
[p30] But Fortune, capricious, who sports at her leisure,
With birds, as with men, when it suits her good pleasure,
Resolv’d, after teazing Sir Argus awhile,
To reward, in the end, all his toils with her smile.
Aurora with splendor unusual arose,
When the Peacock and Parrot awoke from repose,
And how were their bosoms delighted and cheer’d,