THE SONG. 



287 



with the peasant. God has distributed them everywhere. Woods 

 and thickets, clearings, fields, vineyards, humid meadows, reedy pools, 

 mountain forests, even the peaks snow-crowned — he has allotted each 

 winged tribe to its particular region — has deprived no country, no 

 locality, of this harmony, so that man can wander nowhere, can 

 neither ascend so high, nor descend so low, but that he will be greeted 

 with a chorus of joy and consolation. 



Day scarcely begins, scarcely does the stable-bell ring out for 

 the herds, but the wag'tail appears to conduct, and fi-isk and 

 hover around them. She mingles with the cattle, and familiarly 

 accompanies the hind. She knows that she is loved both by man 

 and the beasts, which she defends against insects. She boldly plants 

 herself on the head of the cow, on the back of the sheep. By day 

 she never quits them ; she leads them homeward faithfully at 

 evening. 



The water-wagtail, equally punctual, is at her post ; she flutters 

 round the washerwomen ; she hops on her long legs into the water, 

 and asks for crumbs ; by a strange instinct of mimicry she raises and 

 dips her tail, as if to imitate the motion of beating the linen, to do 

 her work also and earn her pay. 



The bird of the fields before all others, the labourer's bird, is the 

 lark, his constant companion, which he encounters eveiywhere in his 

 painful furrow, ready to encourage, to sustain him, to sing to him of 



