“Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote,
Where the gray linnets carol from the hill:
O let them ne'er, with artificial note,
To please a tyrant, strain the little bill,
But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will.”

— James Beattie

Book i. Stanza 5.
The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius (1771)

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James Beattie 18

Scottish poet, moralist and philosopher 1735–1803

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“But, O sad Virgin, that thy power
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“Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
Here earth and water seem to strive again,
Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
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“The year's at the spring,
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Though the wind dieth soon
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Though the leaves thy brow darken.
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Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft
To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow:
Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!”

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“Hail to thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
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The Green Linnet, st. 2 (1803).

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James Beattie 18

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