174 WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIRDS. 



" And the spirit of that mighty singing 



To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn." 



"We have not space for a further extension of these 

 Similes. We will only glance at a few others. There is no 

 English Bird which furnishes a good type of Keats this 

 Country affords, though, a perfect one in the Brown Thrush, 

 or, as it was most beautifully, though technically termed, 

 " Orpheus Kufus." It is inferior to the King of Song in the 

 infinite variety, the triumphant energy and force of its min- 

 strelsy. But we are constantly reminded of the poetry of 

 Keats, in the deep liquid rush of its strains and the keen in- 

 tense melody of each particular note. Like him, it is a plain, 

 humble Bird, hiding in the low thickets, and only coming 

 forth to sing. Then it mounts upon the topmost pinnacle 

 of the highest tree, that all the world may know of it for 

 now it has forgotten its timid humility all its heart is 

 big with the melodious prophecy of sound. Its mood of 

 worship is upon it, and what cares it, or knows, that a proud, 

 cruel world lies at its feet, and that it is only mounting to 

 where every shaft may reach it. Death and fear are no 

 more to it now it must sing and forth goes the rapt hymn. 

 It has become now 



" As one enamored is up-borne in dream 

 O'er lily-paven lake, 'inid silver mist, 

 To wondrous music " 



Wondrous, but coming unconscious, out of its own heart. 

 Then, to we favored Human listeners, 



" blessed bird, the earth we pace 



Again appears to be 

 An unsubstantial, faery place, 

 That is fit home for thee." 



It is one of those strange coincidences we have before no 

 ticed that Keats, without ever having heard his Prototype, 



