THE TLETI.K-I)()\ K. 387 



" A moi'iil the rcflcctivo mind may draw 

 Fnim the fond tiu-tlc-dovc. Beyond compare 

 Its constanej- ; so faithful to its mate. 

 It cannot live ajjart from such strong ties. 

 Its love is that of harmony entire, 

 A\'hile life remains. And if death separates 

 One from the other's side, the lone one dies." 



The dark, or black-coloured turtle-dove was employed by the Egyptians as the hiero- 

 gh-phic of chaste widowhood, it being tmderstood that when one of a pair was killed, the 

 other never joined with a second mate. Pliny makes similar assertions, yet he over- 

 throws them by other statements. Thus of pigeons, he says : " In very troth, these 

 birds be soon seduced and trained away from their own homes ; and they have a cast with 

 them to flatter and entice one another : thej' take a great delight to inveigle others 

 and to steal away some pigeons from their own flocks, and evermore to come home better - 

 accompanied than they went forth." Aristotle, too, though he hints, in one place, his 

 belief in the common opinion, states in another that doves change their mates. 



The dove is associated with far-distant times, and particularly with the catastrophe of 

 the Deluge. Thus it has been regarded by the Rev. W. L. Bowles, in strains of great 

 sweetness : — 



" Ride on :^the ark, majestic and alone 

 On the wide wastfe of the careering de^J, 

 Its hull scarce peering thi'ough the night of clouds, 

 Is seen. But lo ! the mighty deep has shi'unk ! 

 The ark from its terrific voyage rests 

 On Ararat ! the raven is sent forth, — ■ 

 Send out the dove, and as her wings far off 

 Shine in the light, that streaks the severing clouds. 

 Bid her speed on, and greet her with a song : — 



Go, beautiful and gentle dove, — 



But whither ^dlt thou go ? 

 For though the clouds ride high above. 



How sad and. waste is all below ! 



The wife of Shem, a moment to her breast 

 Held the poor bird and lusscd it. Many a night, 

 "When she was listening to the hollow wind 

 She press'd it to her bosom, with a tear ; 

 And when it murmur'd in her hand, forgot 

 The long, loud tumtilt of the storm ^v^thout. 

 She kisses it, and, at her father's word. 

 Bids it go forth. 



The dove flies on ! In lonely flight 



She flies fi-om dawn to dark ; 

 And now, amid the gloom of night. 



Comes weary to the ai'k. 



Oh ! let me iu, — she seems to say. 



For long and lone has been my way ; 

 Oh ! once more, gentle mistress, let me rest, 



And dry my di'ipping plumage on thy breast. 



So the bii'd flew to her who chcrish'J it. 

 She sent it forth again out of the ark ; 

 Agam it came at evening fall, and lo ! 

 An olive -leaf pluck'd otf, and in its bill. 



2 c 2 



