The Bird of _Jove_, who was all Day, As much intent upon his Prey, As any Prince in Christendom, Was not well pleased, that coming home, He always found his Folks a Bed, (Sure Courtiers should be better bred.) For, as Crown'd Heads have much to think, Some Nights he could not sleep a wink; And thought it hard to have ne'er a Bird In all his Court could speak a Word, Or snuff a Candle, hundred things, That are of use to waking Kings. Some Birds strove hard, did what they could; Yet when 't grew dark, slept as they stood. Others pretended that they watch'd, And swore and ly'd till they were catch'd. The King would not be put upon: Asks all his Court what's to be done? One talks no wiser than a Horse, Another makes it ten times worse, The Ostrich said, It's plain to me, We sleep because we cannot see; Ask _Jupiter_, he can't deny't, To let it when 'tis dark be light---- At that all stopt his Speech a laughing, Except the King, who fell a coughing. Says one more learned than the rest, I'm for a Crane with stone in Fist; If he should sleep it must be known, For presently he'll drop the stone. But as the Watchmen were to be In the upper Garret of the Tree, The King for weighty Reasons said, He'd have no Stones held o'er his Head, Then cries the Swan, and he was right, If one pretends to watch all Night. He cannot do a better thing, To make us believe it than to sing. His Majesty approves of it, And Letters presently are writ; By which the Airy Prince invites All Birds to Court, that sung a Nights; But most of 'em look on the same As things of no concern to them. Yet some that had Ambition Would very willingly have gone, But since they could not watch in short, And might perhaps be punish'd for't, At best they could propose no Gains. But t' have their Labour for their Pains. Only the Nightingale, whose Art Man knows, had fill'd his little Heart With so much Joy, he's more than glad, And almost ready to run mad; Calls on all Birds and shakes his Wings, Tells them how every Night he sings; (A thing, which they knew nothing of, For by that time they're fast enough.) Says he it hits so luckily, As if it was contriv'd for me, What cause to doubt of being chose, When there's not one that can oppose. His Friend the Black-bird says, if so, } Make haste to Court; why don't you go? } The haughty Bird cries truly No, } Glory's a thing I never went for, Nor shall go now unless I am sent for. At last the King by Mistress Fame, 'S acquainted with his Skill and Name, And hearing of his Stateliness Sends half a dozen Deputies; Who, when they're come, are forced to wait: The Bird makes every thing look great; He humbly thanks his Majesty; But could not leave his Family. They still persuade and press him hard, He need not doubt of a great Reward.