I'd take a flight on another bard's wings,
Turning his rhymes into extravaganza,
Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its strings!
When a poll-parrot can croak the cadenza
A nightingale loves, he supposes he sings!
Oh, never mind, I will pick up a stanza,
Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its strings!
What though you tell me each metrical puppy
Might make of such parodies two pair a day;
Mocking birds think they obtain for each copy