I

Within her gilded cage confined, I saw a dazzling Belle, A Parrot of that famous kind Whose name is NON-PAREIL.

Like beads of glossy jet her eyes; And, smoothed by Nature's skill, With pearl or gleaming agate vies Her finely-curvèd bill.

Her plumy mantle's living hues In mass opposed to mass, Outshine the splendour that imbues The robes of pictured glass.

And, sooth to say, an apter Mate Did never tempt the choice Of feathered Thing most delicate In figure and in voice.

But, exiled from Australian bowers, And singleness her lot, She trills her song with tutored powers, Or mocks each casual note.

No more of pity for regrets With which she may have striven! Now but in wantonness she frets, Or spite, if cause be given;

Arch, volatile, a sportive bird By social glee inspired; Ambitious to be seen or heard And pleased to be admired!