THE NIGHTINGALE. 
43 
Far from the winters of the west, 
By every breeze and season blest, 
Returns the sweets by nature given 
In softest incense back to heaven.” 
The Giaour. 
It is cruel to continue the quotation, seeing under what atmospheric difficulties 
the rosarians of the West cultivate their favourite flower, many of them uncheered by 
any Nightingale songs. Of two lovers the same poet, following herein Shakespeare, 
writes— 
And again— 
“ They should have lived together deep in woods, 
Unseen as sings the Nightingale; they were 
Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes 
Called social.” 
“ There was no reason for their loves 
More than for those of Nightingales or doves.” 
A delightful legend to account for the sadness and nocturnal singing of the 
Nightingale exists in the Val Ste. Veronique. “ Long ago it used to sing like other 
birds in the day-time; but once in a warm night of May one fell asleep on a rapidly 
growing vine. The tendrils of this grew very fast, and twined about its slender legs 
as it slept, so that when morn broke it could not escape, and its mates came to 
compassionate its woe. At length it died, and they were so impressed by its sad 
end that they dared no longer to sleep at night, but watched in fear, and sung to 
keep each other awake. Even yet they utter the same notes of warning, and what 
they say is this; ‘ La vigne pousse—pousse pousse, vitc, \ite, \ite, vite, vite, vite, 
vite! ’ pronouncing ‘pousse,’ &c., slowly and in soft cadences, vite higher and 
higher till it finishes in a rapid presto.”—(P. G. Hamerton in the Portfolio , 1874, 
P- 159 )- 
But of all the poetic descriptions of the Nightingale’s song none expresses its 
hopeful side, and contrasts with it that prophetic insight which is inseparable from 
all true human poetry better than the Laureate 
“And the Nightingale thought, ‘I have sung many songs, 
But never a one so gay, 
For he sings of what the world will be 
When the years have died away!’” 
The Poet's Song. 
