Warble

A variety of birds fly into my garden every morning, some in search of food, and some to warble in the shade, for the boughs grow very thick, and three fountains water the cool retreat.

Her voice more sweet than warbling sound, Tho’ sung by nightingale or lark, Her eyes such lustre dart around, Compar’d to them the sun is dark.

In the swamp in secluded recesses, / A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.

touch the warbled string

The wailings of a maiden I recite, / A maiden fair, that Sparabella hight. / Such ſtrains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, / Nor the gay goldfinch chaunts ſo ſweet a note, [...]

The blackbirds and robins and and^([sic]) tits and finches shout at each other, chups and warbles and chirrups that, loosely translated, mean “Fancy a shag?”, “Get OFF my land” or “I’ve got a great big tonker.”