BLACKBIRDS, NIGHTINGALES, ETC. 313 



out, like Jacques, " More, more, I prythee, more," have 

 even an irritating effect. Indeed, if this were always 

 so it would be a serious drawback, even to a song so 

 full of excellence. But it is not always so. Some- 

 times, on still, warm nights when the stars seem to 

 breathe and tremble and the air is like a lazy kiss 

 (and if nights are not like this in England, yet the 

 song itself makes them seem so), the rich, full notes 

 are poured forth in a continuous stream of melody 

 that lasts long, and, whilst it lasts, seems to create 

 the world afresh. Some time afterwards, indeed, one 

 notices that the effect has not been quite so powerful, 

 and that this crying want has still to be filled — but 

 the dear bird has done its best. 



"Sie jubelt so traurig, sie schluchzet so froh, 

 Vergessene Traiime erwachen," 



says Heine, whilst others say that the song is apt 

 to keep them awake at night, and, having first paid 

 their orthodox tribute to its supremacy over every 

 other, will confess that they have sometimes been 

 obliged to open the window and throw something 

 out to put a stop to it. Yet the thought of how 

 appreciative the world really is, and how severely a 

 heretic in such a matter may be dealt with, shall 

 not deter me from expressing a slight doubt as to 

 the reality of this supremacy — or, at least, of its 

 extent and absoluteness. Letters each year to the 

 papers, from people who have been so fortunate as 

 to hear the nightingale long before the nightingale 

 is accustomed to reach our shores, have given rise 

 to the suspicion that a thrush is, in most cases, the 

 real performer ; and if this be so, it shows that, with 

 many, the comparative merits of the two depend upon 



