88 SONG OF THE ROBIN 



Another curious spot chosen by a Eobin for building, was in 

 the reading-desk of North Molton Church, Devon, imme- 

 diately under the bible and prayer-book. The Eev. W. 

 Burdett wrote these lines for the occasion : 



Sweet social bird ! confiding in our care, 

 Who here so oft frequent God's house of prayer, 

 Here sheltered from the hands of reckless youth, 

 Thy nest was built beneath the word of Truth. 

 How choice ! how wise ! May all who worship here 

 Now learn a lesson from thy fostering care, 

 Now follow in the path which thou hast trod, 

 And rear their young ones in the house of God ; 

 Here train them in the way that they should go, 

 That with increasing years their peace may flow, 

 'Till heaven at last be their eternal rest, 

 With Jesus and his saints for ever blest. 



' The song of the Robin,' says Neville Wood, 'is not very 

 loud, but it is remarkable for its sweet, soft, and melancholy 

 expression. In summer, as I have observed, it is little 

 noticed, but in autumn it is peculiarly delightful, though I 

 am certain of the truth of Selby's supposition, that the 

 notes which are heard in autumn and winter, proceed from 

 the throats of the young of the year. Nor do I ever re- 

 member to have heard the adult bird singing in its natural 

 state, during the inclement seasons. But when confined to 

 the house, or in a cage, both old and young will carol away 

 right merrily. In softness and sweetness, I think the song 

 of the Eobin Eedbreast is unexcelled by any of our other 

 sylvan choristers, though as a whole it is surpassed by 

 many. Witness, for instance leaving the Brake Nightin- 

 gale, "the leader of the vernal chorus," out of the question 

 the ethereal strains of the Garden Fauvet, the Blackcap 

 Fauvet, the Woodlark, and many others. But none of these, 

 no, not even the Brake Nightingale itself, possesses that 

 ineffably sweet expression, which we must pronounce to be 

 peculiar to our admirable favourite.' 



The following lines by the poet of Dartmoor, Carring- 

 ton, ought to .find a place in every description of the 

 Eobin : 



Sweet bird of Autumn, silent is the song 

 Of earth and sky, that in the summer hour 



