ALAUDA ARVENSIS. 359 



He also sings perched on a clod or stump of a burnt whin — 

 even on the grass — and in confinement, when hemmed in by his 

 little wire cage, he will sing as cheerfully on his wee bit of turf 

 as he does in the open field ; but his native element is the air, 

 as he ascends on fluttering wing, or hangs quivering above his 

 mate, pouring forth his cheerful song of love ; 'tis there that 

 the full beauty of its varied melody is heard. 1 never hear a 

 lark singing in a cage without a feeling of sorrow to see a 

 creature so fitted for heaven confined in an iron prison two 

 feet square. It begins its song as it rises, ascending 

 perpendicularly in spiral circles, singing all the time, till he 

 reaches his climax — sometimes so high as to be imperceptible, 

 where he continues his protracted and varied song, nor ceases 

 until he descends to near the ground, then stops abruptly, and 

 comes down like a stone — as if the earth was not his sphere for 



For always when ending his love-giving strain, 

 And sinking low down to earth's grassy lea, 



His carol will cease, when lowly again 

 He sinks in the bent like a gem in the sea. 



But sometimes they resume their song after alighting. They 

 do not always sing above the nest, for I have seen them above 

 the golfing course where there were no nests but the bare turf, 

 and crowded with golfers. I have heard them singing at half-past 

 nine at night at the end of June, after rain. The chief beauty 

 of the lark's song is its protracted variety and cheerfulness. It 

 begins with short chirps till about 30 feet up, then mounts into 

 the air by spiral gyres, and when heard by man at early dawn, 

 is often the best antidote to his lowness of spirits, as the more 

 mellow notes of the mavis and blackbird sometimes induce 

 melancholy at "dewy eve." No bird has such a protracted 

 song, and those acquainted with it can tell without looking if 

 the bird is rising or descending, which, philosophy's poet, 

 Wordsworth, also notes near the close of his beautiful poem 

 "The Excursion "— 



" Anon I rose 

 As if on wings, and saw beneath me stretched 

 Vast prospect of the world which I had been 

 And was ; and hence this song, which, like a lark, 

 I have protracted in the unwearied heavens, 

 Singing, and often with more plaintive voice 

 To earth attempered and her deep-drawn sighs, 

 Yet centreing all in love, and in the end 

 All gratulant, if rightly understood." 



