Owl of grave deport and mien,
Who (like the ) was seldom seen,
Within a barn had chose his station,
As fit for prey and contemplation:
Upon a beam aloft he sits,
And nods, and seems to think, by fits.
So have I seen a man of news
Or , or  peruse,
Smoak, nod, and talk with voice profound,
And fix the fate of  round.
Sheaves pil'd on sheaves hid all the floor:
At dawn of morn to view his store
The Farmer came. The hooting guest
His self-importance thus exprest.