228 THE SHILFA AT HIS BATH. 



to warble ; and they seem to vie with each other which can carol in 

 the loudest strain. There is something in song so closely connected 

 with the overflowings of a joyous heart, that when we hear it we 

 immediately fancy we can see both mirth and pleasure joining in the 

 party. Would, indeed, that both of these were the constant atten- 

 dants on this much-to-be-pitied group of captive choristers. How 

 the song of birds is involved in mystery ! mystery probably never to 

 be explained. Whilst sauntering up and down the Continent in the 

 blooming month of May, we hear the frequent warbling of the Chaf- 

 finch ; and then we fancy that he is singing solely to beguile the 

 incubation of his female, sitting on her nest in a bush close at hand. 

 But on returning to the town we notice another little Chaffinch, often 

 in some wretched alley, a prisoner with the loss of both its eyes, 

 and singing nevertheless as though its little throat would burst. 

 Does this blind captive pour forth its melody to soothe its sorrows ? 

 Has Omnipotence kindly endowed the Chaffinch with vocal faculties 

 which at one time may be employed to support it in distress, and at 

 another to add to its social enjoyments ? What answer shall we 

 make ? We know not what to say. But be it as it will, I would not 

 put out the eyes of the poor Chaffinch, though by doing so I might 

 render its melody ten times sweeter than that of the sweet Nightingale 

 itself. Oh, that the potentate in whose dominions this little bird is 

 doomed to such a cruel fate, would pass an edict to forbid the perpe- 

 tration of the barbarous deed ! Then would I exclaim, * king of 

 men ! thy act is worthy of a royal heart, that kind Being who is a 

 friend to the fatherless shall recompense thee for this.' 



Twink, Shelly, Shell-apple, Chaffy, Boldie, and Beech- 

 finch, are the current names by which this bird is known in 

 different localities. In Scotland they call it the Shilfa, and 

 it is under that name that Grahame alludes to it 



At such a still and sultry hour as this, 



When not a strain is heard through all the woods, 



I 've seen the SHILFA light from off his perch, 



And hop into a shallow of the stream, 



Then, half afraid, flit to the shore, then in 



Again alight, and dip his rosy breast 



And fluttering wings, while dewlike globules coursed 



The plumage of his brown-impurpled back. 



The barefoot boy, who, on some slaty stone, 



Almost too hot for touch, has watching stood, 



Now thinks the well-drenched prize his own, 



And rushes forward ; quick, though wet, the wing 



Gains the first branches of some neighbouring tree, 



And baulks the upward gazing hopeless eye. 



The ruffling plumes are shook, the pens are trimmed, 



And full and clear the sprightly ditty rings. 



