Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, His steeds to water at those springs e. Cymbeline-Act II. Sc. 3. Song. It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. f. Romeo and Juliet. Act III. Sc. 5. Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, The sun ariseth in his majesty. h. Venus and Adonis-Line 853. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Sound of vernal showers Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. m. SHELLEY-To a Skylark. Up springs the lark, Shrill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn; Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations. n. THOMSON-The Seasons. Spring. Line 587. abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still! WORDSWORTH-To a Skylark. Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine: Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine: Type of the wise who soar, but never roam: True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home! 8. WORDSWORTH-To a Skylark. Thou hast a nest, for thy love and thy rest, t. WORDSWORTH-To a Skylark. e. WORDSWORTH-The Green Linnet. MARTLET. The martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, breath Smells wooingly here; no jutty, frieze, Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, The air is delicate. MATTHEW ARNOLD-Philomela. Line 1. As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, So poets live upon the living light. k. PHILIP J. BAILEY-Festus. Sc. Home. It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lov'rs' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word. 1. m. "Most musical, most melancholy" bird! A melancholy bird! Oh, idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. COLERIDGE-The Nightingale. Line 13. 'Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music! n. COLERIDGE-The Nightingale. Line 43. Sweet bird that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past or coming void of care, Well pleased with delights which present The nightingales are singing On leafy perch aloft. r. No. 9. HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring. The nightingale's sweet music S. HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring. Adieu! Adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-do I wake or sleep? t. KEATS-To a Nightingale. 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. 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 feartul hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 0. Romeo and Juliet. Act. III. Sc. 5. One nightingale in an interfluous wood In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour, Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with himAll 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! BARRY CORNWALL--The Owl. C. When cats run home and light is come, k. The lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade, Goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed. YOUNG--Love of Fame. 1. BIRD OF PARADISE. Satire V. Line 209. Those golden birds that, in the spice time drop About the gardens, drunk with that sweet Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--"Tis no sport for peas n. ants. BYRON--Don Juan. Canto XIII. St. 75. 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, p. St. 74. To frame the little animal, provide The shining bellies of the fly require; fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tale. .. GAY--Rural Sports. Canto I. Line 177. The raven once in snowy plumes was drest, To sooty blackness from the purest white. The raven was screeching, the leaves fast fell, The sun gazed cheerlessly down on the sight. k. HEINE-Book of Songs. Lyrical Interludes. No. 26. And the Raven, never flitting, Just above my chamber door; And my soul from out that shadow 1. |