THE NIGHTINGALE VALLEY 107 



that have fallen in the previous winter, and completed 

 with a few strands of horse-hair, on which the shining 

 olive-brown eggs are laid. There are few prettier 

 sights than that of a nightingale on her nest. The 

 elegance of the bird, the exquisite shades of the russet 

 and grey of its plumage, set in the circle of oak-leaves 

 among the briars, suggest a natural harmony and 

 refinement in keeping with the beauty of its unrivalled 

 song. A pair of cuckoos also haunts the Nightingale 

 Valley every spring. 



The popular feeling in England in favour of the 

 cuckoo is as unaccountable as the affection for the 

 nightingale is natural and unquestioned. It is certainly 

 of recent growth, for the old writers formed a just 

 estimate of its character, and condemned it alike in 

 metaphor and the plainest prose. Even to hear its 

 voice was an evil omen 



" It were a common tayle, 

 That it were better to hear the nightingale 

 Much rather than the lewd cuckoo sing." 



Such is Chaucer's comment on the note, which, pro- 

 bably from its association with the coming of spring, 

 is now so eagerly listened for in rural England. The 

 cuckoo's coming is the certain sign that winter is over. 

 "One swallow does not make a summer, but one 

 cuckoo does make a spring," should be the amended 

 form of the old proverb. And this the burden of the 

 ancient catch 



" Summer is yeomen in ; 

 Loud sings cuckoo." 



