CURLEW-LIFE. 
123 
Along the salt sea's oozy verge, 
When wafted high the ebbing surge, 
Unsheltered leaves the shelly fry, 
Hark ! the Curlew's tumultuous cry : 
Now as, remote from human sight, 
In lonely pairs their vernal flight 
They speed o'er heathy mountain rude, 
Or some waste marsh's solitude, 
To the tall grass or bristling reed 
Their wild unnestled young to breed ; 
And now along the peoi)lcd coast, 
In densely congTcgated host, 
Yet heedful of the thundering gun, 
Aloft on bluish legs they run. 
Or deh'e with, slender bill and bowed 
Tlie yielding sand ; or shouting loud, 
To warn their comrades of the way, 
Lest darkling from the line they stray. 
Wake the dull night with startling sounds : 
Well might you deem the deep-mouthed hounds 
Raised in full cry the huntsman's peal, 
Or clamoiu-ed for their morning meal. 
It is as a dweller by the sad sea wave that the CurlcAV 
presents itself under its most picturesque aspect, as the poets 
have not been slow to perceive ; Ave have only space for two 
or three short quotations to prove this. Barton says : — 
The sea, the sea ! oh tell me not 
Of Art's triumphant power ! 
Its proudest trophies are forgot 
In one lone sea-side hour : 
Yon giant bark that breasts the tide, 
Though beautiful and brave. 
Beats not the Curlew in its pride, 
Which mounts the stormiest wave. 
And Edmund Eeade thus refers to the bird : — 
Again the Curlev/ to her eirie springs, 
Bends to the sun, and dries her di'ipping wings. 
And the white Curlews gleamed in distant swarms, 
Like spirits soaring from the land of storms. 
