Classic Poem

Let us moreover view the poultry tribe,
And the plumed leaders of the comb-crowned race;
Whose clapping wings the stars do not abide,
Whose watchful crowings summon up the day.
Lo! two prepare to try in furious fight
Which afterwards shall absolute command.
With bills adverse they hostile offers make;
With quick attacks they whet each other's rage;
Their breasts opposed direct meet quashing full;
Their courage kindles high; and swift and strong
Spiteful they clash their heels, rebounding quick.
The conqueror's crow triumphant does avouch
The day his own; and on his vanquished foe
He leaps insulting; with a tread unkind
He spurns him cowering, creeping, hushed in fear
To lurk in some dark corner, where he pines
To bear the victor's domineering pride.
Good reason now the common flock should walk
In close attendance by th' undoubted chief:
Their comely chief, upon whose crown aloft
The comb up-towering reddens purple-hued.
Upon his crest in wandering waves of light
The trembling feathers glitter shadowy.
Adown his golden neck and shoulders run
The glorious beauties; gracefully his gills
Ample wax white from off the upper red,
And like a beard hang on his breast so plump.
Curved at the end his beak stands tapering out;
His tawny eyes shine sparkling fierce in flame;
And wide his ears unfold themselves all pale.
Shaggy with hairs his legs stand stiff and straight,
Meeting above in jointure close and firm.
With sharp and sturdy spurs his heels are armed;
His rough-haired thighs and pinions spread full wide;
In a row twofold upward borne on high
Quiver large, curving plumes upon his tail.
He by himself alone in lechery strong
Fills fruitful the whole family of fowls.
With his sharp claws he now tears up the ground,
And pries in every corner for the grain.
Warily now he views the sky o'ercast,
And so keeps out of danger from the hawk,
That bird of prey; nor does the scaly snake
Craftily creeping bite him by surprise.
Upon the pond lo! with a slabby foot
The duck with painted collar rows along,
And quacking fond allures her brood to swim;
Erect now stretching; plunging now below.
The thrush sets up his star-bespangled tail
Largely unfurling, proud to court his mate.
Picking on figs, or mill-dust gathering up,
He fattens sleeky; till the fowler false
With wheedling note allures him to his net.
Close by a wall the turtle pampering sits
Hoarse sounding mournful, with her lover by
Piteously breathing out his amorous tale.
To me, ye powers above, grant such a life,
Such pastimes, such refreshments after work,
Riches so void of care! 'tis all I pray:
Here limited shall stand my wildest wish.