THE NIGHTINGALES BEAUTY. lOI 



like the brown of the robin, a bird which in some other respects 

 strangely resembles the Nightingale ; but either it is a little 

 brighter, or the larger surface gives it a richer tone. In both 

 birds the brown is set off against a beautiful red ; but this in 

 the Nightingale is only distinct when it flies or jerks the tail, 

 the Upper feathers of which, as well as the longer quills, and 

 especially the innermost ones, are of that deep but bright russet 

 that one associates with an autumn morning. And throat 

 and breast are white ; not pure white, but of the gentle tone of 

 a cloud where the grey begins to meet the sunshine. 



In habit the Nightingale is peculiarly alert and quick, not 

 restless in a petty way, like the fidgety titmice or the lesser 

 warblers, but putting a certain seriousness and intensity into all 

 it does. Its activity is neither grotesque nor playful, but seems 

 to arise from a kind of nervous zeal, which is also characteristic 

 of its song. If it perches for an instant on the gorse-bush 

 beneath the hedge-row which borders the wood, it jerks its 

 tail up, expands its wings, and is off in another moment. 

 If it alights on the ground, it rears up head and neck like 

 a thrush, hops a few paces, listens, darts upon some morsel 

 of food, and does not dally with it. As it sings, its whole body 

 vibrates, and the soft neck feathers ripple to the quivering 

 of the throat. 



I need not attempt to describe that wonderful song, if song 

 it is, and not rather an impassioned recitative. The poets are 

 sadly to seek about it ; Wordsworth alone seems to have caught 



' O Nightingale, thou surely art 



A creature of a fiery heart 1 



