lines in the Musae Seatonianre, to ihe nidification of the tailor-bird, 
and the pensile nest of the baya. 
“ Behold a bird’s nest ! 
“ Mark it well, within, without! 
“ No tool had he that wrought ; no knife to cut, 
“ No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert, 
“ No glue to join his little beak was all: 
“ And yet how neatly finish'd ! What nice hand, 
<c With every implement and means of art, 
c ‘ Could compass such another?” 
Although the last in my collection, yet not the least in favour 
with all the orientals, is the bulbul, or Persian nightingale; who 
also call it hazardasitaun, or the “ bird of a thousand songs/’ Its 
plumage is variegated by shades of brown and white, with a black 
tuft upon the head, and some feathers of a bright scarlet near the 
tail: it has a pleasing wild note, but I never heard one that pos- 
sessed the charming variety of the English nightingale, or sere- 
naded us with its nocturnal melody: whether the Indian bulbul 
and that of Iran entirely correspond, I have some doubts: the 
Persian bulbul is celebrated by Hafiz and Khusroo, not only for 
the plaintive sweetness of its song, but for its passion for the rose; 
as they allege it is so enamoured with that flower, that if it sees 
any person pluck a rose from the tree, it laments and cries. I 
drew a bulbul fluttering over a full-blown rose, as a vignette to 
a Persian ode, translated by Colonel Woodburne, who presented 
me with the following copy, which has not before appeared in 
print. 
