CHANTICLEER. 
155 
their slumbers but the peaceful crowing of the 
cock." And at these words the whole concourse 
was electrified, and rose up like one man, and from 
thousands of lips went forth a great cry of " Peace ! 
Peace ! Let us make peace with Sparta ! " 
Hark ! once more that long clarion call : it is the 
last time — the very last; for all the others have 
sung a dozen times apiece and have gone to sleep 
again. So would this one have done, but cocks, 
like minstrels among men, are vain creatures, and 
some kind officious fairy whispered in his ear that 
there was an appreciative listener hard by, and so 
to please me he sang just one verse more. 
Lying and listening in the dark, it seemed to me 
that there were two opposite qualities commingled 
in the sound, with an effect analogous to that of 
shadow mingling with and chastening light at 
eventide. First, it was strong and clear, full of 
assurance and freedom, qualities admirably suited 
to the song of a bird of Chanticleer's disposition ; 
a lusty, ringing strain, not sung in the clouds or 
from a lofty perch midway between earth and 
heaven, but with feet firmly planted on the soil, 
and earthly; and compared with the notes of the 
grove like a versified utterance of Walt Whitman 
compared with the poems of the true inspired 
children of song — Blake, Shelley, Poe. Earthly, 
but not hostile and eager ; on the contrary, leisurely^ 
