PLEASURES OF ORNITHOLOGY. 45 



THE REDWING'S SONG. 



Turdui Iliacus. — Linnaeus. 

 Le cantique de mes soupirs. — J. Racii 



A love there i», surpassing love, 



It is of purest kind, 

 And lives — for ever lives — to time 



It may not be confined. 



'i'o cold diistrust — indifference cold 

 It never — never yields ; — 



No wintry blasts can ever blight 

 The blossom in its fields. 



Nor Fortune ! fickle as thou art, 

 Can thy severest frown 



The ardours of that love abate — 

 A moment cast them down. 



When want appears with poverty, 

 When hollow Friends forsake, 



That love around its kindred heart 

 A closer twine will take. 



