MA Y MUSES 1 1 1 



beautiful than any sunlight effect on the same 

 trees. Yet all was forgotten when from a dense 

 clump of bushes stole the long-drawn, high note 

 of a nightingale, so sweet that one involuntarily 

 held the breath to hear. It was repeated again 

 and again, and, though the whole phrase occupied 

 but a few seconds, it seemed to shed a flood of 

 light and music over the scene. It seemed to 

 spread throughout the firs like the sudden blaze 

 of a meteor. The elms seemed to welcome it to 

 their wide arms and to ring its echoes as though 

 rejoicing in the lovely tones. Far down the glade 

 the lovely message passed. Rapidly attaining the 

 glorious climax, it filled the scene as though 

 Nature herself were singing and then ? Silence, 

 broken only by the murmur of the water, now 

 sounding dull or discordant. But the bird made 

 no long pause ; from two to three seconds was 

 enough for him not only to recover his voice, but 

 to devise some new, vigorous, and daring strain. 

 His was a song of contrasts almost as violent as 

 that of his wild notes and the succeeding silence. 

 One phrase seemed a cry of woe, the next so 

 fierce that a listener could at once understand how 



