THE SONG. 289 



This animal is sad, and fear consumes her. 



" Get animal est triste et la crainte le ronge." 



LA FONTAINE. 



But the contrary has taken place by an unexpected marvel of 

 gaiety and easy forgetfulness, of lightsome indifference and truly 

 French carelessness ; the national bird is scarcely out of peril before 

 she recovers all her serenity, her song, her indomitable glee. Another 

 wonder : her perils, her precarious existence, her cruel trials, do not 

 harden her heart ; she remains good as well as gay, sociable and 

 trustful, presenting a model (rare enough among birds) of paternal 

 love ; the lark, like the swallow, will, in case of need, nourish her 

 sisters. 



Two things sustain and animate her : love and light. She makes 

 love for half the year. Twice, nay, thrice, she assumes the dangerous 

 happiness of maternity, the incessant travail of a hazardous educa- 

 tion. And when love fails, light remains and re-inspires her. 

 The smallest gleam suffices to restore her song. 



She is the daughter of day. As soon as it dawns, when the 

 horizon reddens and the sun breaks forth, she springs from her furrow 

 like an arrow, and bears to heaven's gate her hymn of joy. Hallowed 

 poetry, fresh as the dawn, pure and gleeful as a childish heart ! 

 That powerful and sonorous voice is the reapers' signal. " We must 

 start," says the father; "do you not hear the lark?" She follows 

 them, and bids them have courage ; in the hot sunny hours invites 

 them to slumber, and drives away the insects. Upon the bent head 

 of the young girl half awakened she pours her floods of harmony. 



" No throat," says Toussenel, " can contend with that of the lark 

 in richness and variety of song, compass and velvetiness of timbre, 

 duration and range of sound, suppleness and indefatigability of the 

 vocal chords. The lark sings for a whole hour without half a second's 

 pause, rising vertically in the air to the height of a thousand yards, 

 and stretching from side to side in the realm of clouds to gain a yet 

 loftier elevation, without losing one of its notes in this immense flight. 



' What nightingale could do as much ?" 



