UNKNOWN TONGUES. 251 



the same account, only, here it is a modern "fiddle," and 

 the poor owner is caught in a cabin surrounded by fierce 

 wolves, mad from starvation. He plays, and they listen 

 with horror ; he rests for a moment, and they are ready 

 to rush upon him. High on a rafter, at last, sits the suf- 

 ferer, playing through the dark hours of night. String 

 after string has broken, his arm is tired, his hands are 

 benumbed. But, just as the last string snaps, as his hand 

 sinks powerless at his side, and, with exulting yells and 

 glaring eyes, the blood-thirsty host leap upwards, the bright 

 light of day breaks through the forest, and the wolves, 

 true children of the night, flee in terror. Even the fierce 

 lion, it is said, cannot bear the cock's crowing, and, like 

 the great Wallenstein, dreads it more than all things 

 earthly. Of the horse, we are taught that 



"At the shrill trumpet's sound he pricks his ear," 



and 



"At the clash of arms, his ear afar 

 Drinks the deep sound and vibratos to the war." 



Who does not know the account of the Libyan mares, 

 that could only be milked when tamed by soft music, 

 and of the horses of the Sybarites, that had been taught to 

 dance after pleasing melodies, and then, when bearing 

 their masters into battle, suddenly heard, in the enemy's 

 ranks, the well-remembered sounds, and instantly set to 

 dancing instead of fighting? The same love of music 

 has been more harmlessly employed in comparatively 

 modern times. The eccentric Lord Holland, of the reign 

 of William III., used to give his horses a weekly concert 

 in a covered gallery, specially erected for the purpose. 



