of Pan, were in all probability nothing more than the murmurs and sighs of 

 the wind through the marshes and forests graced and frequented by these ele- 

 gant aquatic birds." Speaking of the natives of Iceland comparing their notes, 

 "very flatteringly," to those of a violin, he suggests that ''allowance be made 

 for this predilection, when it is remembered that they hear this cheerful clarion 

 at the close of a long and gloomy winter, and when, at the return of the swan, 

 they listen to the harbinger of approaching summer; every note must be, there- 

 fore, melodious, which presages the speedy thaw and return of life and ver- 

 dure to that gelid coast." He adds that it emits its notes only when flying or 

 calling on its companions — the sound being very loud and shrill, but by no 

 means disagreeable when heard high in the air and modulated by the winds." 



Of the ''Peaceful ^Monarch of the Lake," Thomas Bewick wrote: "^luch 

 has been said, in ancient times, of the singing of the Swan, and many beautiful 

 and poetical descriptions have been given of its dying song. 'No fiction of 

 natural history, no fable of antiquity, was ever more celebrated, oftener re- 

 peated, or better received : it occupied the soft and lively imagination of the 

 Greeks; poets, orators, and even philosophers, adopted it as a truth too pleas- 

 ing to be doubted.' 'The dull, insipid truth,' how^ever, is very diflierent from 

 such amiable and affecting fables, for the voice of the swan, singly, is shrill, 

 piercing and harsh, not unlike the sound of a clarionet when blown by a novice 

 in music. It is, however, asserted by those who have heard the united and 

 varied voices of a numerous assemblage of them, that they produce a more 

 harmonious eft'ect, particularly when softened by the murmur of the waters." 



To Cassell the voice of the swan "is low, soft and musical, and when heard 

 from multitudes congregated together has a very pleasing effect." Shakespeare 

 repeatedly alludes to the music of the swan with manifest confidence in its mel- 

 ody ; Pallas, the ornithologist, likens their notes to silver bells ; and Olaffson 

 says that in the long Polar night it is delightful to hear a flock passing over- 

 head, the mixture of sounds resembling trumpets and violins. 



So now, though we no longer know that the soul of the poet returns to 

 float, the embodiment of rhythmic grace, before our mortal eyes as in the years 

 so long gone by, there yet remains to us the splendid imagery of that stately 

 form in spotless plumage against the setting of the darkening sea, the wonder 

 of that solemn requiem, and the prophecy and the mystery of the shadowy or- 

 ch-estra passing onward in the depths of the midnight sky. 



735 



