Classic Poem

'T WAS on a beauteous vernal day,
When Nature breath'd the sweets of May,
A Peacock, proudly, idly vain,
Spread to the sun his splendid train. —
A Blackbird, in a neighb'ring grove,
Retir'd to chaunt his song of love,
The haughty bird long scornful ey'd,
And thus at length broke forth with pride:
" How blest am I, bright Fancy's child,
" Form'd sure when Nature sweetly smil'd!
" How happy that I'm form'd so fair,
" Unlike my sable neighbour there. "
The Blackbird heard, and mildly said,
" Is worth by gaudy tints display'd?
" Thy various plumage, well we know,
" Shines like the many-colour'd bow;
" But should'st thou elevate thy voice,
" How would the very groves rejoice! "
The Blackbird tuning then his song,
Praise echo'd from the feather'd throng.
His fame, the Peacock to maintain,
Would next attempt to chaunt his strain;
And from his unmelodious throat
Pour'd many a shrill discordant note;
But, while he had applause in view,
He heard a gen'ral scorn ensue:
The birds refuse the boaster's claim,
The chattering pyes contempt proclaim;
'Till forc'd his station to remove
By hooting owls he quits the grove.