ALAUDA ARVENSIS. 361 



Then, angrily, in his " Borderers," exclaims — 



" That dismal moor — 

 In spite of all the larks that cheered our path, 

 I never can forgive it." 



In his poem on " Liberty " he has also a fine allusion to a sky- 

 lark caged — 



" Who can divine what impulses from God 

 Reach the caged lark, within a town abode, 

 From his poor inch or two of daisied sod ? 

 O yield him back his privilege !" 



Then asks the question so applicable to all — 



." Is there a brilliant fondling of the cage 

 But gladly would escape through blithe air 

 Into strange woods ?" 



A Lark That did not Love Liberty. — A correspondent of the 

 Spectator says: — "My friend, James Shanock, three years ago, caught a 

 young lark, and it has been pouring out its song ever since then from its 

 cage, and a very sweet note it is. Some little while ago, as the afternoon 

 was sunny, the cage was hung outside in the garden at the moment 

 another lark was carolling in the air, and Shanock's bird rose from the 

 cage, which was only covered with a fine net, and in which there must have 

 been a rent, and disappeared in the direction of the other lark. My friend 

 seeing this at once began to whistle, holding up the cage to attract his pet 

 back again, and in a very short time down it came to his feet, and waited 

 patiently while he gently replaced him in his cage. There were three 

 witnesses." — March 20th, 1893. 



This shows that birds, as well as man, can acquire a second 

 nature. 



Prosaic and methodical Southey also notes its cheerful 

 exuberance — 



" I remember as her bier 

 Went to the grave, a lark sprung up aloft 

 And soared amid the sunshine, carolling 

 So full of joy that, to the mourners' ear, 

 More mournfully than dirn or passing bell 

 The joyous carol came, and made us feel 

 That, of the multitude of being*, none 

 But man was wretched ;" 



And in his " Roderick, the last of the Goths," he truly says — 



" We heard the lark, who, from her airy height 

 On twinkling pinions poised, pour'd forth, profuse, 

 In thrilling sequence of exuberant sowi, 

 As one whose joyous nature overfioived 

 With life and power her rich and rapturous strain." 



Nor was the lark unsung by our own unfortunate poet, 



Y 



