The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

85
No Welchman knew, or lov'd it better:
He bless'd th' auspicious wind,
And strait look'd round to find,
What might his hungry stomach fill,
And quickly spied the Crow,
Upon a lofty bough,
Holding the tempting prize within her bill.
But she was perch'd too high,
And Reynard could not fly:
She chose the tallest tree in all the wood,
What then could bring her down?
Or make the prize his own?
Nothing but flatt'ry could.
He soon the silence broke,
And thus ingenious hunger spoke:
"Oh, lovely bird,
Whose glossy plumage oft has stirr'd
The envy of the grove;
Thy form was Nature's pleasing care,
So bright a bloom, so soft an air,
All that behold must love.
But, if to suit a form like thine,
Thy voice be as divine;
If both in these together meet,
The feather'd race must own
Of all their tribe there's none,
Of form so fair, of voice so sweet.
Who'll then regard the linnet's note,
Or heed the lark's melodious throat?
What pensive lovers then shall dwell
With raptures on their Philomel?
The goldfinch shall his plumage hide,
The swan abate her stately pride,
And Juno's bird no more display
His various glories to the sunny day:
Then grant thy Suppliant's prayer,
And bless my longing ear
With notes that I would die to hear!"
Flattery prevail'd, the Crow believ'd
The tale, and was with joy deceiv'd;
In haste to show her want of skill,