The Nightingale. 125 



it is sorrowful, when it is we rather, who, under those 

 influences, have become awakened to the greatness of 

 life, and its littleness, and to the subduing thoughts that 

 belong to the Before and After. Melancholy, in the 

 true idea of the word, does not come of pain or evil, 

 but of rising into higher consciousness of the Infinite. 



" When I go musing all alone, 

 Thinking of divers things foreknown, 



When I build castles in the air, 



Void of sorrow, and void of care, 



Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet, 



Methinks the time runs very fleet ; 

 All my joys to this are folly, 

 None so sweet as melancholy. 



" When to myself I sit and smile, 

 With pleasing thoughts the time beguile, 



By a brook side or wood so green, 



Unheard, unsought for, and unseen ; 



A thousand pleasures do me bless, 



And crown my soul with happiness ; 

 All my joys to this are folly, 

 None so sweet as melancholy."* 



Chaucer calls the nightingale " merry." But at the period 

 when he wrote his tales the word signified strenuous, or 

 hearty. We can quite afford to surrender it, since there 

 are many instances in literature where the bird is accre- 

 dited with its genuine nature, or that of cheerfulness. 

 Like the famous " Lachrymae Christ!" of Italy, it is sor- 

 rowful only in name, t 



* Robert Burton, 1651. Introduction to the "Anatomy of 

 Melancholy. " 



t See, on this very interesting subject, not the current books 



