Chaste are their instincts, faithful is their fire, No foreign beauty tempts to false desire; The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown, The simple plumage, or the glossy down, Prompt not their love: the patriot bird pursues His well-acquainted tints, and kindred hues. Hence, through their tribes no mix’d polluted flame, No monster-breed to mark the groves with shame; But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true, Thinks black alone is beauty’s favourite hue; The nightingale, with mutual passion blest, Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest; While the dark owl to court his partner flies, And owns his offspring in their yellow eyes.[49] FOOTNOTES: [49] From the Latin lines of Addison (_Spectator_, No. 412), who remarks:--“In birds, we often see the male determined in his courtship by the single grain, or tincture of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the colour of its species.” [Illustration: A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS, A ROMAN KNIGHT.] _From the Latin, preserved by Macrobius._ What! no way left to shun th’ inglorious stage, And save from infamy my sinking age? Scarce half alive, opprest with many a year, What, in the name of dotage, drives me here? A time there was, when glory was my guide, Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside; Unaw’d by power, and unappall’d by fear, With honest thrift I held my honour dear: But this vile hour disperses all my store, And all my hoard of honour is no more-- For, ah! too partial to my life’s decline, Cæsar persuades--submission must be mine! Him I obey, whom Heaven itself obeys; Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin’d to please. Here, then, at once I welcome every shame, And cancel at threescore a life of fame. No more my titles shall my children tell-- The old buffoon will fit my name as well; This day beyond its term my fate extends, For life is ended when our honour ends. [Illustration: PROLOGUE TO “ZOBEIDE,” A TRAGEDY.[50]] _Spoken by Mr. Quick._