The Cuckoo

From the Danish.

Yonder the cuckoo flutters, Cuckoo, Cuckoo! he utters, And lights the beech upon; Many a voice is sweeter, But do not mock the creature, Let each enjoy his own.

He knows no notes of passion, A new song cannot fashion; True to the ancient rule, What his good sires respected By him is not neglected,-- Is he for that a fool?

O thou, my human brother, Who scorning every other With self-conceit dost swell, We cannot all be gallants, Not equal are our talents-- Thou art no nightingale!

LONDON: Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W. Edition limited to thirty copies.