THE NIGHTINGALE. 291 
a little further back the veil wherein he conceals himself. “ Behold,” 
said Moses, “ behold him who passes, 
I have seen him by the skirts.” “Is 
it not he,” said Linné, ‘who passes? 
I have seen him in outline.” And 
for myself, I close my eyes; I per- 
ceive him with an agitated heart, I 
feel him stirring within me on a 
night enchanted by the voice of the 
nightingale. 
Let us draw near; it is a lover: 
yet keep you distant, for it is 
a god. The melody, now vibrating 
with a glowing appeal to the senses, 
anon grows sublime and amplified 
by the effects of the wind; it is a 
strain of sacred harmony which 
swells through all the forest. Near 
at hand, it is occupied with the 
nest, their love, the son which will 
be born; but afar, another is the be- 
loved, another is the son: it is 
Nature, mother and daughter, eternal 
love, which hymns and glorifies it- 
self; it is the infinite of love which 
loves in all things and sings in all: 
these are the tendernesses, the can- 
ticles, the songs of gratitude, which 
go up from earth to heaven. 
* % * * 
“Child, I have felt this in our 
southern fields, during the beauti- 
ful starry nights, near my father’s 
house. At a later time, I felt it 
more keenly, especially in the 
