122 COLUMBINE. 



derer glancing past Ireland's Eye, on its way to the feeding 

 ground at Howth, where at times they join the company of 

 the ringdove, starling, and jackdaw. 



This species it is that has received " a local habitation and 

 a name" in the pages of the poet, of Anacreon, of Tasso, 

 and Ariosto, as being the messenger employed to carry dis- 

 patches from leaguered cities, or on more tender occasions, 

 perhaps as critical, from hearts in love. 



We have remarked, when treating of the ringdove, con- 

 cerning the legend attached to its call-note : to the rock dove 

 there is none ; but few who have heard its prolonged mur- 

 murings have hastily forgotten it. Thus, to ourselves it is 

 connected with so many recollections of the beautiful that we 

 introduce to the reader one of those scenes of quiet enjoyment 

 at all times presented to the student of nature. Near one 

 of those green knolls which make Lambay so picturesque 

 on an autumnal evening, no sound disturbs the sublime and 

 solemn stillness of the place, except the faint muttering 

 of the waves lazily splashing the rocks below ; far away 

 towards Skerries lies a fleet of Cornish luggers, their large red 

 sails spread out uselessly in the air ; the radiance of a de- 

 clining autumn sun lighting up faintly the top of Clogher 

 Head, and drooping more mellow in its tint until it kindles 

 the waves around the island into a bright phosphoric glow ; 

 at intervals a solitary white speck of some lagging gull sails 

 silently upwards from the sea before us, as if unwilling to 

 break the religious solemnity of the scene. A solitary thrush, 

 some " Crusoe" from the main land, perched upon a tir-tree 

 beside the old castle, seems recording to the spirit-world 

 some legend tinged with holiness ; now a loud startling report, 

 like ordnance, booms from the rocks below, caused by the 

 sudden entrance and exit of water into a cavern, and, ere 

 its echoes die away, the melancholy cooing of many rock 

 doves echoes like a response to the summons they had re- 

 ceived. Rich as was the melody of the thrush, yet it seemed 

 one of those songs which we may hear at all times, but the 

 saddened murmuring of these rock doves seemed the very 

 essence of melody, and appeared so solemn, as to fitly har- 

 monize with the bleak precipices that tower over the ocean, 

 as it were, chiming an eternal response to the unison of the 

 waves breaking upon the rugged shore of rocks below. 



Indigenous. 



