135 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
Pleased with the fancy, and his rival's play. 
He means to try her skill, and give her v^ay : 
His nimble bow and pliant fingers fly, — 
To every touch the ready notes reply : 
Commands the compass with a boundless sway, 
Sweeps o'er the strings, and preludes to the fray. 
As nimbly she resolves the various song, 
In son'rous evolutions from her tongue : 
Thus for the coming strife herself prepares ; 
And matchless art with equal courage dares. 
The fiddler strikes his sounding violin. 
The conscious chords re-echo from within : 
With easy slide he drew a downward stroke, 
And in one simple sound the fiddle spoke : 
Now sharply turns the tune, and plys amain ; 
On ev^ry string does ev'ry finger strain ; 
Then rests. The bird, as skilful in her part, 
Runs the same keys, and gives him art for art, 
She with a careless air begins her song. 
Draws out her notes, and makes 'em mighty long. 
Deep in her throat the lengthened sounds arise, 
Invariably the same without surprise ; 
Then in a moment chang'd her lab'ring voice, 
Varies the tune, and charms ten thousand ways. 
