from Laurence Sterne's A Sentimental Journey (1767)
In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a starling hung in a little cage
-- 'I can't get out-- I can't get out,' said the starling.I stood looking at the bird: and to every person who came through the passage it ran fluttering to the side towards which they approach'd it, with the same lamentation of its captivity
-- 'I can't get out,' said the starling-- God help thee! said I- - but I'll let out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage to get to the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it to open without pulling the cage to pieces-- I took both hands to it.The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it, as if impatient
-- I fear, poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee at liberty-- 'No,' said the starling-- 'I can't get out-- I can't get out,' said the starling. . . .Disguise thyself as thou wilt, Slavery! said I
-- still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.- - 'Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, addressing myself to Liberty, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change-- no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle ao chymic power to turn thy sceptre into iron-- with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled-- Gracious heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last step but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion-- and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.
