THE Starling

A BEAUTEOUS Starling late I saw, On lovely Sylvia's hand; To check its flight, around its leg, She ties a silken band.

In vain it flutters to be gone; Confinement is its lot; In vain it strives to break the band, But can't untie the knot.

"Cease, cease, she cried, here you shall feed "And in my bosom reft." No bird that ever wing'd the air, Was half so much carest.

"If from my hand you should escape, "You may perchance be shot; "Then cease to peck, 'tis all in vain; "You can't untie the knot."

The bird contented grows at length, While Sylvia strokes his plumes, Erects his little crest, and, soon, His former notes resumes.

From what he'd heard the fair one say, These words by rote he got, And oft repeated, every day, You can't untie the knot.

One evening youthful Damon sat, With Sylvia by his side; Reward my love, at last, said he, Tomorrow be my BRIDE.

Her blushes in his favour rose, Yet she consented not; For, ere she spake, the Starling cried, You can't untie the knot.