The PARROT, who now was expiring to speak, Twirl'd his ebony tongue, and then op'ning his beak, In a tone of importance, without hesitation, Directly began a high-sounding oration. "SIR ARGUS, no mortal could e'er have desir'd, More exquisite verses than those you've inspir'd. The Muse has for _you_, indeed, tried all her art, [p 10] And with envy, no doubt, has fill'd many a heart: I wonder not, then, you are anxious to know From _whose_ pen these strains of sweet harmony flow. 'Tis true, I have chanc'd in my wanderings to meet With _some_ secrets; and _such_ anecdotes _cou'd_ repeat! However, no matter; I give you my word, That who wrote this fine Poem, I never yet heard; But it much wou'd delight me the truth to discover, Altho' I shou'd fly for it all the world over: What say you, SIR ARGUS, the fact to insure, Suppose we were both to set out on a tour?" "Agreed! my good Sir; far as England extends, Then together we'll travel, and visit our friends: Endeavour to find out the name of our Poet, And e'er we return, ten to one but we know it." A tempting repast they now hastily shar'd, [p 11] Of grain and dried cherries, already prepar'd: Then sipping some drops from a neighbouring spring, Made no further delay, but directly took wing. Awhile they fled on, over meadow, thro' grove, Delighted, for novelty's sake, thus to rove: Yet sometimes alighted, preferring a walk, The PEACOCK for ease, and the PARROT for talk; Till, at last, poor SIR ARGUS began to complain, Of the sad inconvenience he felt from his train, And propos'd, as the sky seem'd to threaten a shower, To rest till the morning, at Nightingale Bower; The obsequious PARROT replied by a bow, And they went on as fast as their strength would allow.