[15]
And then the black stock!—that’s to shew he’s a
male—
Not forgetting two horns, growing out of his tail.”
(Daw.) “Fie, Mag! you grow scurrilous—feathers, not horns;
An antler disgraces—a feather adorns.—
But what hook-nose is here? pri’thee look at her placket,
Be-patch’d and be-speckled like Harlequin’s jacket,
Or, to judge by her marks,—though the notion is droll,—
She seems just coming out with the petite verole.”
(Jay.) “I’m told ’tis the Curlew—a stranger to me,
As I never change visits with Ladies at sea.—
But look at that Quizz, and be grave if you can;
’Tis the Cushew—with legs like the flesh of a man:
As to humps on the back; they’re a blemish one knows—
But who ever heard of a hump on one’s nose?—
(Daw.) But heigh!—look at the Owl—she seems quite in a fuss;
I never yet saw the old Dowager thus—
Why, she’s wriggling and giggling ... exactly like us!
Pray, Ma’am, what’s the matter?”
(Owl.)————————“The Dodo! the Dodo!—
“Where? which, Ma’am?”—“There! there! do but look at it—O do!”
(Daw.) “I see it! I see it!—O would I were stronger!
I shall die, I shall burst, if I look any longer:
Who bred it?—who fed it?—What is it, good Owl?—
(Owl.) “Why, a logger-head Turtle half turned to a fowl!
[16]
Or a wool-sack alive!—or a Porpoise with
wings!—
(I’d be seen at noon day but to hear how it sings!—)
Or in short—if I dare such a fancy set up—
’Tis a Chicken-Rhinoceros, ready to pup!
What a beak!—like two barrels, one black and one red,
On a head bluff and bulky, just like ... Beachy Head!
At the root of its chaps—like a ring on a pig—
How becoming that circular thicket of wig!
When it yawns, it must petrify all the beholders
By jerking its jobbernowl back on its shoulders!—
What the plague does it carry stuff’d out from its throttle,—
Like cherries, or strawberries, cramm’d in a pottle?
But to balance the load, on its back there’s a bump,
And, for tail, a few feathers, see! perk’d on its hump,
Then its wings!—not a Dab-chick has smaller or shorter;
Sure she never can fly,—or how can they support her?
But for this there is full compensation below—
Upon legs such as those might an Elephant go!
But its eyes!—’twere a sin to forget ’em—good lack!
What peepers were ever so round or so black?
Then its air, and address!—and its walk!—but enough!—
Created it seems but to stare and to stuff.”
(Chatterer.) “Well said Madam Owl—for a maiden oration;
Who says you are dull?—’tis a base fabrication:—
[17]
But the length of her speech has exhausted her quite,
And that Jupiter’s nod bids a solemn good night!—
Adieu, then, dear Dodo!—most marvellous lubber!—
Choice compound of clumsiness, blunders, and blubber!—
But I turn from this bird of all birds without regret,
For here comes a contrast, in form of an Egret:
That leg was a truncheon—while this is a stick:
This bill is a bayonet—that was a brick.
But bless us! who’s here?”
“’Tis the long tailed Finch.”
(Chatterer.) “Long, indeed!—thus a bird takes an ell for an inch.—
But pray, now, that fine-coated Gentleman mark,
With a mouth like a pen, and a throat like a shark:
By the din that he keeps, one would think for the night
He’s enacting the part of a spinning-wheel.”
“Right:—
But whatever he seems, he’s a Goat sucker, Madam!”
(Chatterer.) “Then I’d quiet his tongue with my goats, if I had ’em.
But look!—here’s the Swallow advancing to greet us,
With her mouth as wide open as though she would eat us;
And see how her tail quite asunder has started,
Just as if all its feathers had quarrell’d and parted.
I suppose she will shortly abscond for the season—
You and I, miss, have nothing to do with the reason;
[18]
But this I
will say—when I take to
my pinions,
I don’t leave the bounds of the Eagle’s dominions:
To be sure she has very particular ways—
What a mystery hangs o’er her travelling days!—
If she goes, ’tis incog.—or she hides if she stays.—
But tell me the name of yon swaggering youth,”
(Daw.) “He’s the Crested Black Vulture, Miss.”
(Chatterer.) “Crested forsooth!
Such a title is, sure, on all titles a jest;—
Get a lump on your head—and then swear ’tis a crest!
Then, his beak, as I live, is half black and half blue—
Has he found a fine name for this accident too?
But the best is his feathery collar, or border,
On which, without doubt, he will found a new Order.
Were I, though, a Spark with so haughty a mein,
I’d alter my manners, and learn to live clean;
I’d dine on fresh meat, at the least, were I able,
And few courses of carrion should come to my table.—
Apropos of that matter, two birds are before us,
Whose habits I hold to be quite indecorous—
The Rice-bird, and Tumbler—let’s hoot them in chorus!
E’en a Saint, or a Stock-fish, would storm at the first,
For cramming his crop till his bowels are burst:
The second—yes—look how he tumbles and reels,
Having swill’d till he knows not his head from his heels!
[19]
For the Rice-bird—I blame more than wonder
perhap—
But who taught the Tumbler his way to a tap?”—
(Parrot.) “Those are Cuckows, I think—the impertinent Pests!—
So, Ladies, I’d have you look well to your nests.—
But tell me, Miss Pye, who is that whipper-snapper?”—
(Magpie.) “Who is it, Poll Parrot!—Not know the Didapper!
A good Diver I’m told; but he surely must fail
In his walking, (pray look?) who has legs at his tail!
He knows his weak side, it should seem, for he makes
A great fuss with his fishing in rivers and lakes.”
(Jay.) “What great stupid bird have we here?—Can it speak?”—
(Daw.) “The very same question just popp’d to my beak.”
(Magpie.) “He’s by nature a ninny—by title a Bustard—
As fond of good worms, as a Cit of good custard;
And, to shew that he carries more body than brains,—
When the glutton has din’d himself fat on the plains,
Too sick to be soaring, he’s kill’d for his pains.”
(Parrot.) “Make room for Miss Demoiselle!”
(Jay.) “Demoiselle!—pooh! pooh!—
’Tis no less than that very fine Lady the Hoopoo:
One row of crest-feathers might serve me or you;
But she’s never contented with fewer than two.—
[20]
But see, just return’d from a voyage, the
Pewit;
He’ll treat us, I fear, with a spice of his sea-wit:
No—he cuts us, I vow!—I conclude that with him
No birds are worth knowing but birds that can swim.”
(Daw.) “That long-legged Stick is a Stork, I suppose;—
Pray why does he strut so, and rise on his toes?
No creature his stars has less reason to thank:
When you’ve mentioned his neck, and his bill, and his shank,
There’s no more to be said—for his body’s a blank;
And yet this was the Tyrant commissioned to teaze up
The Frogs in their fancy for Kings—’tis in Æsop.
Nay—what’s more amazing—this fop of the tribe is
In Egypt ador’d by the nick-name of Ibis.—
But I’m all in a flutter!—a Soldier, my dear!”
(Magpie.) “A Soldier!—who is it?”
“The bold Grenadier—
So eager, they tell me, so fierce to engage,
That, when put on his mettle, he’ll fight through his cage.
I could like, of all things, if you won’t think it cruel,
’Twixt him and the Butcher to cook up a duel.”—
(Jay.) “But in all this gay party, the Snow-bird I miss.
(Chatterer.) “No, I spied her just now:—what a simpleton ’tis!
In winter she’s always in white.”
“Any reason?
“Yes, a compliment paid to the flakes of the season.”