190 
A DESCRIPTION OF 
That bower and its music I never forget, 
But oft \vhen alone, in the bloom of the year, 
I think, Is the Nightingale singing there yet ? 
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer ? 
MOORE. 
Sweet poet of the woods a long adieu ! 
Farewell, soft minstrel of the early year ! 
Ah ! 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew, 
And pour thy music on the " night's dull ear." 
Whether on spring thy wandering flights await, 
Or whether silent in our groves you dwell, 
The pensive muse shall own thee for her mate, 
And still protect the song she loves so well. 
CHARLOTTE SMITH. 
The Nightingale, that sings with the deep thorn, 
Which fable places in her breast of wail, 
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those 
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes. 
BYRON. 
THE BLACK-CAP (Sylvia atricapilla,) 
Is a very small bird, of the warbling tribe, not weighing 
above half-an-ounce. The top of the head is black, whence 
he takes his name ; the neck ash-coloured, the whole back 
a dark green ; the wings of a dusky colour, with green 
