BIRDS AND POETS. 
179 
" and all the place 
Was filled with magic sounds woven into one 
Oblivious melody, confusing sense." 
So this stranger from a "far countrie,-' 
" a Bird more bright 
Than those of fabulous stock," 
can alone stand as Anti-type of the weird melodist of Chris 
tabel and the Ancient Mariner. 
The same difficulty presents itself with regard to the gor- 
geous metaphysical Genius of Old Spenser. We shall have 
to find his Anti-type in that peopled realm of majestic 
shadows where he lived. We see 
" A Bird all white, well feathered on each wing, 
Hereout up to the throne of God did flie, 
And all the way most pleasaunt notes did sing, 
"Whilst in the smoak she unto heaven did stie." 
And are we not satisfied — filled to the fulness of repletion 
— with the beauty of the " Similitude ?" But we have 
already sufficiently extended our recreations in this sunny 
latitude of charming thought. There are very many Simili- 
tudes of equal appropriateness and loveliness which present 
themselves. These are the chiefest. As for the smallei 
flock, we will only say in the quaint simile of Spenser : 
" The Nightingale is Sovereigne of song : 
Before him sits the titmouse, silent bee." 
Here we dismiss this, to us, inexpressibly delightful theme. 
" So let it glide, like a bright-footed dream, 
Out of the chambers of our daily life !" 
