"How proudly and sonorously you sing, my dear Cock!"
"But you, dear Cuckoo, my light, how smoothly flows your long drawn-out
note! There is no such singer in all the rest of our forest."
"To you, dear friend, I could listen forever."
"And as for you, my beauty, I protest that when you are silent I
scarcely know how to wait till you begin again. Where do you get such
a voice?--so clear, so soft, so high! But no doubt you were always
like that: not very large in stature, but in song--a nightingale."
"Thanks, friend. As for you, I declare on my conscience you sing
better than the birds in the Garden of Eden. I appeal to public
opinion for a proof of this."
At this moment a Sparrow, who had overheard their conversation, said to
them:
"You may go on praising each other till you are hoarse, my friends; but
your music is utterly worthless."
Why was it, that, not fearing to sin, the Cuckoo praised the Cock?
Simply because the Cock praised the Cuckoo.