ULULA STRIDULA. 173 



And poor, misplaced Henry Kirke White, who died delirious at 

 twenty-one, in his " Ode to Midnight," also says — 



" Meanwhile I tune, to some romantic lay, 

 My flageolet ; and, as I pensive play, 



The sweet notes echo o'er the mountain scene ; 

 The traveller, late journeying o'er the moors, 

 Hears them aghast — while the dull oivl pours 

 Her hollow screams each dreary pause between." 



This hoo-lioo-hoo, Buffon says, " has a considerable 

 resemblance to the cry of the wolf, which induced the Latins to 

 give it the name of Ulula, from Ululare, to howl like a wolf." 

 Besides hooting, it sometimes utters a harsh scream, which, 

 along with its eerie hoo-hoo-hoo, when heard at night in some 

 lonely spot, creates a weird, uneasy feeling — 



" A fearful apprehension from the owl 

 Or death-watch," 



which deepened into superstition — not yet dead — and which 

 Wordsworth notes in his poem of the " Waggoner" — 



" Yon screech oivl, says the sailor, turning 

 Back to his former cause of mourning — 

 Yon oivl ! pray God that all be well ! 

 'Tis worse than any funeral bell ; 

 As sure as I've the gift of sight, 

 We shall be meeting ghosts to-night." 



This owl sometimes screeches like the barn owl. I have 

 heard the long-eared owl hooting in dense fir woods very like 

 it (possibly this owl itself). But, when heard in some dimly- 

 lighted wood, the far away to-who, oo-oo, of the owl, although 

 eerie, is not unpleasing, at least to me, and is truly a " shout," 

 as Wordsworth says, that " comes from nobody knows where." 

 For, as Burns in his "Ode to the Owl," asks — 



" Is beauty less, when down the glowing cheek 

 Sad, piteous tears, in native sorrows fall ? 

 Less kind the heart when anguish bids it break ? 

 Less happy he who lists to pity's call ? 



Ah, no, sad owl! nor is thy voice less siveet 

 That sadness tunes it, and that grief is there ; 



That spring's gay notes, unskill'd, thou can'st repeat, 

 That sorrow bids thee to the gloom repair. 



From some old tower, thy melancholy dome, 

 While the grey walls, and desert solitudes 



Return each note, responsive to the gloom, 

 Of ivied coverts and surrounding woods. 



There, hooting, I will list more pleased to thee, 

 Than ever lover to the nightingale." 



