238 THE SONG OP BIRDS. 



The Hawk tribe, again, beautiful and symmetrical as they are, so formed, 

 so exquisitely shaped for rapid and nervous motion, utter nothing but a 

 shriek, and yet is their wild cry peculiarly adapted to their nature, and 

 sufficiently characteristic. Then there is the Heron tribe, which have all, 

 more or less, harsh sounding notes, partaking more of a scream than any 

 other sound; but these are partially nocturnal birds, that is, return late to their 

 rendezvous, and wake the far-drawn echoes of the valleys as they wing 

 their solitary way homeward. 



Most night-birds are clamorous, for although it is true that their eyes 

 are so formed as to collect every ray of light, yet we cannot suppose that 

 they can do more than see somewhat better than ourselves in the dark, 

 and hence this is absolutely necessary to collect stragglers. The cries of 

 water-birds are more similar than those which inhabit the earth, for among 

 them are no songsters properly so called. Many have curious, and perhaps 

 not inharmonious notes, but they either partake of a monotonous whistle, a 

 shrill cry, or a harsh quack! The Hooper, or Wild Swan, particularly, 

 makes a loud sound, very much like the turning of a rusty hinge, (as I 

 have elsewhere observed;) and the Thick-kneed Bustard, or Stone Curlew, 

 utters three notes, executed as a turn, reduceable to music; but these are 

 the only peculiar instances that occur to me at the present moment. 



All birds, as I have observed at the outset of this paper, are possessed 

 of melodious notes, or the capability of uttering such, but it is to the 

 land-birds that this observation more peculiarly applies, as amongst them 

 we have the finest singers, and indeed the only true songsters, of which no 

 country in the globe can boast so many as our own; for I think we may 

 fairly call our summer visitants ours, inasmuch as they perform the most 

 important function of their lives, namely, nidification, with us, and very 

 many of them, we may fairly conclude, although they leave us after being 

 bred in England, never reach other shores, amid the waste and destruction 

 which their transmarine journey must necessarily cause, especially to young 

 and consequently imperfect flyers. Now among these we rank the Night- 

 ingale, that divine songster, whose mellifluous notes have formed the theme 

 of song and admiration from the earliest ages of antiquity; never, I sup- 

 pose, did poet write without celebrating her song, and it is indeed well 

 worthy of the most exalted praise which can be bestowed upon it; there 

 is a richness, a volume in it, which causes you to look with pleasing 

 astonishment at the little throat which pours it forth. 



"Whilst fair Lucinia, in her russet garb, 

 Unseen, from deepest nook, pours forth her lay; 

 "Whose liquid notes swell on the silent air, 

 With richness, fullness, sweetness, unsurpassed, 

 If ever equalled, whilst the spell extends 



