The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, The moonrise wakes the nightingale. Come darkness, moonrise, everything That is so silent, sweet, and pale: Come, so ye wake the nightingale. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI- Bird

m.

Raptures. St. 1. The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought

No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection!

n. Merchant of Venice. Act V. Sc. 1. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. Romeo and Juliet. Act. III. Sc. 5.

0.

GIL VICENTE-The Nightingale.

--Under the linden,

On the meadow,

Where our bed arranged was,

-There now you may find e'en
In the shadow

Broken flowers and crushed grass.
--Near the woods, down in the vale,
Tandaradi!

Sweetly sang the nightingale.

WALTER VON DER VOGELWEIDE -
Trans. in The Minnesinger of Ger-
many.
Under the Linden.

In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower,
The spectral Owl doth dwell;

Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,
But at dusk he's abroad and well!
Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him-
All mock him outright, by day;

But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,

The boldest will shrink away!

Oh, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl! C. BARRY CORNWALL--The Owl.

When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
TENNYSON-Song. The Owl.

k.

The lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade, Goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed. 1. YOUNG--Love of Fame. Satire V.

BIRD OF PARADISE.

Line 209.

Those golden birds that, in the spice time

drop

Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unblooded beak? Henry VI. Pt. II. Act III. Sc. 2.

0.

PEACOCK.

For everything seem'd resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustom'd, as a sort of god,
To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad
(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,)
With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt
How power could condescend to do without.
BYRON--Don Juan. Canto VII.

p.

St. 74.

To frame the little animal, provide
All the gay hues that wait on female pride:
Let Nature guide thee; sometimes golden
wire

The shining bellies of the fly require;
The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not

fail,

Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tale. q. GAY-Rural Sports. Canto I.

To Paradise, the Arabs say, Satan could never find the way Until the peacock led him in. LELAND--The Peacock.

r.

Line 177.

There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; The Redbreast loves to build and warble there,

And light footsteps lightly print the ground. b. GRAY-Elegy. Last St. (Early

Edition.) Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn,

His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn,

A little bird took from that crown one thorn. To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head,

That bird did what she could; His blood 'tis said,

Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest; All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast. HOSKYNS-ABRAHALL-The Redbreast. A Briton Legend. In English Lyrics.

C.

The sobered robin, hunger-silent now, Seeks cedar-berries blue, his autumn cheer. d. LOWELL-An Indian Summer Reverie.

Poor robin, driven in by rain-storms wild
To lie submissive under household hands
With beating heart that no love understands,
And scaréd eye, like a child

Who only knows that he is all alone
And summer's gone.

e. D. M. MULOCK-Summer Gone. St. 2.
On fair Brittannia's isle, bright bird,
A legend strange is told of thee,-
'Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed
While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary,
Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind;
And humbled to the very dust
By the vile cross, while viler man

Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just. Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down By our transgressions,-faint, and weak, Crushed by an angry Judge's frown,

And agonies no word can speak, "Twas then, dear bird, the legend says That thou, from out His crown, didst tear The thorns, to lighten the distress,

And ease the pain that he must bear, While pendant from thy tiny beak

The gory points thy bosom pressed,
And crimsoned with thy Saviour's blood
The sober brownness of thy breast!
Since which proud hour for thee and thine,
As an especial sign of grace

God pours like sacramental wine
Red signs of favor o'er thy race!
f. DELLE W. NORTON-To the Robin

Redbreast.