290 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
I have never heard him at this solemn moment without thinking 
that not only should he touch her heart, but transform, ennoble, 
and exalt her, inspire her with a lofty ideal, with the enchanted 
dream of a glorious nightingale which shall be hereafter the offspring 
of their love. 
Let us resume. So far, we have particularized three songs. 
The drama of the battle-song, with its alternations of envy, pride, 
bravado, stern and jealous fury. 
The song of solicitation, of soft and tender entreaty, but mingled 
with haughty movements of an almost imperious impatience, wherein 
genius is visibly astonished that it still remains unrecognized, is irri- 
tated at the delay, and laments it; returning quickly, however, to 
its tone of reverent pleading. 
Finally comes the song of triumph: “I am the conqueror, I am 
loved, the king, the divinity, and the creator.” In this last word 
lies all the intensity of life and love; for it is she, above all, 
that creates, mirroring and reflecting his genius, and so transforming 
herself that henceforth there is not in her a movement, a breath, a 
flutter of the wings, which does not owe its melodiousness to him, 
rendered visible in this enchanted grace. 
Thence spring the nest, the egg, the infant. All these are an em- 
bodied and living song. And this is the reason that he does not stir 
from her for a moment, during the sacred labour of incubation. He 
does not remain in the nest, but on a neighbouring branch, slightly 
elevated abuve it. He knows marvellously well that his voice is 
most potent at a distance. From this exalted position, the all- 
powerful magician continues to fascinate and fertilize the nest; he 
co-operates in the great mystery, and still inspires with song, and 
heart, and breath, and will, and tenderness. 
This is the time that you should hear him, should hear him in 
his native woods, should participate in the emotions of this powerful 
fecundity, the most proper perhaps to reveal, to enable us to com- 
prehend here below the great hidden Deity which eludes us. He 
recedes before us at every step, and science does no more than put 
