THE SKYLARK. 105 



over the heathy waste, unredeemed by the toil 

 of man, in search of the grouse and the moor- 

 cock : we rest within the cultured bound of the 

 garden and shrubbery, to listen to the song of 

 the goldfinch or the black-cap, or to watch the 

 tiny willow-wren, gliding from flower to flower, 

 lightly and noiselessly, as the airy creation of a 

 dream. And now we invite you, not to the 

 mountain or the forest, but to the open corn- 

 fields, and the cultivated enclosure, to observe 

 the skylark, pouring forth in mid air such sweet, 

 earnest melody, as though he would expend his 

 little life in the song, and you almost expect to 

 see him descend powerless and lifeless to the 

 earth : but his strength fails not ; he mounts 

 yet higher and higher still, and pours forth in 

 his ascending flight, strains so full of harmony, 

 that we are ready to imagine he hears and 

 answers the music of an unseen world. He pur- 

 sues his heaven-ward course, and his swelling 

 notes reach us still, while we gaze from earth, 

 till the little breeze-borne warbler becomes a dim 

 speck in the distance. He has reached his 

 highest point, but he cannot tarry there; his 

 strain is heard again approaching earth, his song 

 is still sweet, but it becomes less and less pow- 

 erful as he descends, and when he reaches the 

 ground it ceases altogether. He has no note 



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