THE
Cherry and the Sloe.
ABOUT a bank with balmy bowers
Bedeck’d in beauty’s fairest flowers,
And greens for ever gay;
The Mavis, Merl, and Progne proud,
The Linnet, Lark, and Lavrock loud,
Saluted mirthful May.
When Philomel had sweetly sung,
To Progne she deplor’d,
How Tereus had cut out her tongue,
And falsely her deflowr’d;
Her story so sorry;
In speech so fair she seem’d;
Her ditty so pretty;
I doubted if I dream’d.
II.
The Cushat coos, the Corbie cries,
The Cuckow couks, the prattling Pyes,
To deck her they begin;
The jargon of the jangling Jays,
The croaking Crows, and kackling Kays,
They deav’d me with their din.
The painted Pawn with Argus’ eyes,
Can on his Maycock call.
The Turtle wails on wither’d trees
And echo answers all;
Repeating with greeting
How fair Narcissus fell;
By lying and spying
His shadow in the well.
