Classic Poem

I

Why trickles the tear from Elizabeth's eye?
Why thus interrupted her elegant chat?
Ah! bootless that tear and bootless that sigh,
They cannot revive your poor Avadavat.

II

Each bird that is born of an egg has its date,
No power can lengthen its days beyond that;
Then let us submit to the dictates of Fate,
And no longer lament the poor Avadavat.

III

Some comfort it is that no violent death,
Assailed it from shooter, from birdlime or cat,
But a common disorder arrested its breath.
'Twas the husk served its writ on the Avadavat.

IV

The prisoner insolvent who dies in the Fleet
From death gets his Habeas as Wilkes did from Pratt,
When caged up for life, no joys could be sweet
And this was the case of the Avadavat.

V

And now it has flown to new scenes of delight,
Where Venus's pigeons long cooing have sat.
While Lesbia's sparrow from envy moults white
And the Muses all chirp to the Avadavat.

VI

Astonished they list to its musical throat
And Euterpe in vain tries a sharp or a flat:
In vain! for from H ER the sweet bird caught its note
Who excels every Muse, as her Avadavat.