The if the nightingale ever sings in actual darkness, 



anc * tnou gh the bird 1S most eager just before 

 ' and at dawn, at moonlit or starlit dusk, or at 

 full moon, it may be heard at any hour of the 

 day. I have heard the song and watched the 

 singer at full noon, and that not in deep woods 

 but in a copse by the wayside. Strange that 

 both name and legend survive in lands where 

 the nightingale is now unseen. There is no 

 question but that it was once plentiful, or at 

 any rate often seen, in the Western Highlands ; 

 though now, it is said, not a bird of its tribe 

 has crossed the Solway since the Union ! It 

 is still spoken of in Argyll and elsewhere, and 

 not confusedly with any other woodlander. 

 In no country has it a lovelier name than the 

 Gaelic Ros-an-Ceol, the Rose of Music. I 

 have heard it spoken of as the smiol or smiolach, 

 the eosag, and the spideag, though this latter 

 name, perhaps the commonest, is misleading, 

 as it is applied to one or two other songsters. 

 In lona, Colonsay, Tiree, and other isles, I 

 have heard the robin alluded to as the spideag. 

 I remember the drift, but cannot recall the 

 text of a Gaelic poem where the nightingale 

 (for neither in literary nor legendary language 

 is any other bird indicated by ' Ros-an-Ceol ') 

 is called the Sister of Sorrow, with an allusion 

 to a singular legend, which in some variant or 

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