68 THE EGG. 



should regard this egg, so exactly like another, and yet the source 

 whence shall issue the innumerable tribes born to a life of wings on 

 earth. 



From the obscure unity it pours out, it expands, in countless and 

 prodigiously divergent rays, those winged flames which you name birds, 

 glowing with ardour and life, with colour and song. From the 



burning hand of God escapes continuously that vast fan of astound- 

 ing diversity, where everything shines, where everything sings, where 

 everything floods me with harmony and light. Dazzled, I lower my 

 eyes. 



Melodious sparks of celestial fire, whither do ye not attain ? 

 For ye exists nor height nor distance ; the heaven, the abyss, it is 

 all one. What cloud, what watery deep is inaccessible to ye ? Earth, 

 in all its vast circuit, great as it is with its mountains, its seas, and 

 its valleys, is wholly yours. I hear ye under the Equator, ardent as 

 the arrows of the sun. I hear ye at the Pole, in the eternal lifeless 

 silence, where the last tuft of moss has faded ; the very bear sees 

 ye afar, and slinks away growling. Ye, ye still remain ; ye live, ye 

 Jlove, ye bear witness to God, ye reanimate death. In those terrestrial 

 deserts your touching loves invest with an atmosphere of innocence 

 what man has designated the barbarism of nature. 



