140 pPant bop©, begef^/, oogI bLjrlc/. 



In a sonnet by Sir Philip Sydney, afterwards set to music by 

 Bateson, we read — 



" The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth 

 Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, 

 When late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth, 



Sings out her woes, a Thorn her song-book making, 

 And mournfully bewailing. 



Her throat in tunes expresseth, 

 While grief her heart oppresseth, 

 For Tereus o'er her chaste will prevailing." 



Shakspeare notices the story in the following quaint lines — 



" Everything did banish moan, 

 Save the Nightingale alone ; 

 She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 

 Leaned her breast up till a Thorn, 

 And then sung the doleful ditty, 

 That to hear it was great pity." 



In Yorkshire, there is a tradition of Hops having been planted 

 many years ago, near Doncaster, and of the Nightingale making its 

 first appearance there about the same time. The popular idea was, 

 that between the bird and the plant some mysterious connecting 

 link existed. Be this as it may, both the Hops and the Nightingale 

 disappeared long ago. 



It is not alone the Nightingale that has a legendary conne(5tion 

 with a Thorn. Another favourite denizen of our groves may also 

 lay claim to this distin(ftion, inasmuch as, according to a tradition 

 current in Brittany, its red breast was originally produced by the 

 laceration of an historic Thorn. In this story it is said that, 

 whilst our Saviour was bearing His cross on the way to Calvary, 

 a little bird, struck with compassion at His sufferings, flew suddenly 

 to Him, and plucked from His bleeding brow one of the cruel 

 thorns of His mocking crown, steeped in His blood. In bearing 

 it away in its beak, drops of the Divine blood fell upon the little 

 bird's breast, and dyed its plumage red; so that ever since the 

 Red-breast has been treated as the friend of man, and is studiously 

 protecfled by him from harm. 



Whether or no this legend of the origin of our little friend's red 

 breast formerly influenced mankind in its favour, it is certain that 

 the Robin has always been regarded with tenderness. Popular 

 tradition, even earlier than the date of the story of the Children in 

 the Wood, has made him our sexton with the aid of plants: — 



'* No burial this pretty pair 

 Of any man receives. 

 Till Robm Redbreast, painfully, 

 Did cover them with leaves." 



It is noted in Gray's Shakspeare that, according to the oldest 

 traditions, if the Robin finds the dead body of a human being, he 

 will cover the face at least with Moss and leaves. 



" Cov'ring with Moss the dead's unclosed eye 

 The little Redbreast teacheth charitie." — Drayton's * Owl.' 



