4. the Parrot

In painted plumes superbly drest, A native of the gorgeous east, By many a billow tost; Poll gains at length the British shore, Part of the captain's precious store, A present to his toast.

Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd To teach him now and then a word, As Poll can master it; But 'tis her own important charge To qualify him more at large, And make him quite a wit.

Sweet Poll! his doating mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies, And calls aloud for sack, She next instructs him in the kiss, 'Tis now a little one like Miss, And now a hearty smack.

At first he aims at what he hears And listening close with both his ears, Just catches at the sound; But soon articulates aloud, Much to th' amusement of the crowd And stuns the neighbours round.

A querulous old woman's voice His humorous talent next employs, He scolds and gives the lie; And now he sings, and now is sick, Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick, Poor Poll is like to die.

Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare To meet with such a well-match'd pair, The language and the tone, Each character in every part Sustain'd with so much grace and art, And both in unison.

When children first begin to spell And stammer out a syllable, We think them tedious creatures; But difficulties soon abate, When birds are to be taught to prate, And women are the teachers.