Lover. You Little Pert and Twittering Pet

Lover. You little pert and twittering pet,
'Who triumph so! do you forget
That wooden holt and wiry bar
So clearly show us what you are?
Canary. You ugly, envious, monstrous thing,
You who can neither fly nor sing,
I would not, if I could, forget
I am a little twittering pet.
Proud man may banish from his mind
A mistress, lovely, fond, and kind;
The wildest woods have never heard
Such wickedness of gentler bird.
I wish one instant you could see
The blessed fate allotted me;
I should exult that Heaven had sent
The vision for your punishment.
No language but a bird's can speak
The transports of my quivering beak;
My quivering beak alone can sing
The glories of my golden wing.
What tho' I tremble as I stand,
Percht high on her protecting hand,
As my reflected form I view
In two clear founts of heavenly blue,
My ruffled wings her fingers close,
Her bosom bids my fears repose.
So froward is my fondled will,
I struggle to be nearer still.
The beating of her heart I hear,
And yet would I be still more near.
I chirp: but oh, my voice! how dull!
Where flies it when the heart is full?
Tell me, vain mortal, when will you
Sip the live rose's fragrant dew,
Riot and revel in her hair,
And dream of nests and nestlings there?
Then may you triumph, and forget
The little pert and twittering pet.