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LAPWING. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. j. Much Ado About Nothing. Act III.

So. 1. LARK. Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray; A hapless lover courts thy lay,

Thy soothing, fond complaining.


My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty; And, till she stoop, she must not be full

gorg'd, For then she never looks upon her lure. Taming of the Shrew. Act IV. Sc. 1.

The wildfowl nestled in the brake
And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed.
b. BYRON -- Don Juan. Canto XIII.

St. 57.
A goldfinch there I saw, with gaudy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopped from side to

DRYDEN- The Flower and the Leaf.

Line 106.
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky.
d. Midsummer Night's Dream. Act III.

Sc. 2. GULL, SEA. Lack-lustre eye, and idle wing, And smirched breast that skims no more, White as the foam itself, the wave-Hast thon not even a grave Upon the dreary shore, Forlorn, forsaken thing?

D. M. MULOCK--A Dead Sea-Gull.


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Thou tells o' never-ending care,
O'speechless grief and dark despair:
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!

Or my poor heart is broken!
k. BURNS- Address to the Woodlark.

Sts. 1 and 4.
The lark, that holds observance to the sun,
Quaver'd his clear notes in the quiet air,
And on the river's murmuring base did run,
Whilst the pleas'd Heavens her fairest livery
1. DRAYTON-Legend of the Duke of

Buckingham. Line 1.
Bird of the wilderness
Blithesome and cumberless
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place.

HÖGG-The Skylark.
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes

Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place-
O to abide in the desert with thee!

Hogg--The Skylark.
Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

HURDIS— The Village Curate.
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.

P. LYLY-- The Songs of Birds.
Hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull Night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise.

9. MILTON-L'Allegro. Line 41. The bird that sings on highest wing,

Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,

Sings in the shade when all things rest:
In lark and nightingale we see
What honor hath humility.

I said to the sky poised Lark:

“Hark-hark !
Thy note is more loud and free
Because there lies safe for thee
A little nest on the ground.”

D. M. MULOCK - A Rhyme About Birds.



HAWK. The winds are pillow'd on the waveless deep, And from the curtain'd sky the midnight Looks sombred o'er the forest depths, that

sleep Unstirring, while a soft, melodious tune Nature's own voice, the lapsing stream, is

heard, And ever and anon th'unseen, night-wander

ing bird. f. MOIR- The Night Hawk. Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks Above the morning lark. g. Taming of the Shreu. Induction.

Sc. 2. JAY. What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful? h. Taming of the Shrew. Act IV. Sc. 3.

KINGFISHER. She rears her young on yonder tree; She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em; Like us, for fish, she sails to sea, And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em. Yo, ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, While the slow bending net we sweep, God bless the Fish-bank and the fisher! ALEXANDER WILSON --The Fisherman's


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No more the mounting larks, while Daphne

sings, Shall, list'ning in midair suspend their

POPE- Winter Line 53.

Day had awakened all things that be, The larks and the thrush and the swallow

free, And the milkmaid's song, and the mower's

scythe, And the matin-bell, and the mountain bee.

1. SHELLEY- The Boat on the Serchio.


O earliest singer! ( care-charming bird! Married to morning, by a sweeter hymn Than priest e'er chanted from his cloister dim At midnight, -or veiled virgin's holier word At sunrise or the paler evening heard.

b. PROCTER- The Flood of Thessaly. O happy skylark springing

Up to the broad, blue sky, Too fearless in thy winging, Too gladsome in thy singing,

Thou also soon shalt lie Where no sweet notes are ringing. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI-Gone Forever.

St 2. The sunrise wakes the lark to sing. d. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI Bird Raptures.

Line 1.

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Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies.

Cymbeline-Act II. Sc. 3. Song.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing

sharps. f. Romeo amd Juliet, Act III. Sc. 5. It was the lark, the herald of the morn.

g. Romeo and Juliet--Act III. Sc. 5. Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver

breast The sun ariseth in his majesty.

h. Venus and Adonis-Line 853.

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

p. WALLER—Of the Queen.

Come, let us seek the dewy lawns, And watch the early lark arise. 9.

WHITE- Pastoral Song.

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season


Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music

still! 1. WORDSWORTH-- To a Skylark.

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say,

no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets

strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to

charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

i. Hamlet-Act I. Sc. 1. Then my dial goes not true; I took the lark

for a bunting. j. All's Well That Ends Well-Act II.

Sc. 5. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures

That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the

ground! k. SHELLEY—To a Skylark.

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LINNET. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note. POPE-Essay on Man. Ep. III.

Line 33. I do but sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing.

b. TENNYSON- In Memoriam. Pt. XXI,


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The martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty. Merchant of Venice. Act II. Sc. 9.

This guest of Summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's

breath Smells wooingly here; no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made its pendent bed, and procreant

cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have

observ'd, The air is delicate. j Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 6.

NIGHTINGALE. Hark! ah, the nightingaleThe tawny-throated! Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!-what pain! Listen, EugeniaHow thick the bursts come crowding through

the leaves! Again--thou hearest?--Eternal passion! Eternal pain! j. MATTHEW ARNOLD-Philomela. Line 1.

As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, So poets live upon the living light.

k. PHILIP J. BAILEY--Festus. Sc. Home. It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lov'rs' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

BYRON-Parisina. St. 1.

“ Most musical, most melancholy" bird! A melancholy bird! Oh, idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. COLERIDGE- The Nightingale. Line 13.

'Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music!

COLERIDGE- The Nightingale. Line 43. Sweet bird that sing'st away the early hours

Of winters past or coming void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present

are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet smelling


DRUMMOND-Sonnet. The Nightingale. Like a wedding-song all-melting Sings the nightingale, the dear one.

p. HEINE-Book of Songs. Donna Clara. The nightingale appear'd the first,

And as her melody she sang,
The apple into blossom burst,

To life the grass and violets sprang:
HEINE Book of Songs. Ver Spring.

No. 9.
The nightingales are singing
On leafy perch aloft.
HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring:

No. 5. The nightingale's sweet musio Fills the air and leafy bowers. HEINE-Book of Songs. New Spring.

No. 31.
Adieu! Adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream ?

Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
t. KEATS- To a Nightingale.



MOCKING-BIRD. Then from the neighboring thicket the mock

ing-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung

o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of

delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the

waves seemed silent to listen. 4. LONGFELLOW-- Evangeline. Pt. II. Living echo, bird of eve, Hush thy wailing, cease to grieve; Pretty warbler, wake the grove, To notes of joy, to songs of love.

ho Thomas MORTON-Pretty Mocking-bird. Winged mimic of the woods! thou motley fool! Who shall thy gay buffoonery describe? Thine ever-ready notes of ridicule Pursue thy fellows still with jest and jibe: Wit

, sophist, songster, Yorick of thy tribe, Thou sportive satirist of Nature's school; To thee the palm of scoffing we ascribe, Arch-mocker and mad abbot of misrule!

WILDE-Sonnet. To the Mocking-bird.


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Thou wast not born for death, immortal

Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown.

a. KEATS — To a Nightingale. Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.

b. KEATS-To the Poets. To the red rising moon, and loud and deep The nightingale is singing from the steep.

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray

Warblest at eve, when all the woods are

still; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart

dost fill While the jolly Hours lead on propitious

May. d. MILTON—Sonnet. To the Nightingale. Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical most melancholy! Thee, chantress, o't, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy evening-song.

MILTON--- 11 Penseroso. Line 61. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day;

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's

bill, Portend success in love; f. MILTON--Sonnet. To the Nightingale. The nightingale now wanders in the vines: Her passion is to seek roses. g.

The bird that sings on highest wing,

Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,

Sings in the shade when all things rest:
In lark and nightingale we see
What honor hath humility.

h. MONTGOMERY -- Humility. I said to the Nightingale;

“Hail, all hail ! Pierce with thy trill the dark, Like a glittering music-spark,

When the earth grows pale and dumb.” i. D. M. MULOCK--A Rhyme About

Birds. Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly

flows, Mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved

mate, A soothing charm o'er all the valleys throws And skies, with notes well tuned to her sad

state. j. PETRARCH-To Laura in Death.

Sonnet XLVII. Hark! that's the nightingale,

Telling the self-same tale Her song told when this ancient earth was

young: So echoes answered when her song was sung

In the first wooded vale. k. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI -- Twilight

Calm. St. 7.

Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To harken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale.

Raptures. St. 2.
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.

Raptures. St. 1. The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be

No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection!

Merchant of Venice. Act V. Sc. 1.
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Romeo and Juliet. Act. III. Sc. 5.
One nightingale in an interfluous wood
Satiate the hungry dark with melody.
P. SHELLEY- The Woodman and the

O Nightingale,
Cease from thy enamoured tale.
SHELLEY- Scenes from

Magico Prodigioso." Sc. 3. Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! O,

The mazy-running soul of melody
Into my varied verse!
THOMSON -- The Seasons. Spring.

Line 573.
O honey-throated warbler of the grove !
That in the glooming woodland art so proud
Of answering thy sweet mates in soft or loud,
Thou dost not own a note we do not love.
Sonnets and Fugitive Pieces.

To the Nighlingale.
The rose looks out in the valley,
And thither will I go,
To the rosy vale, where the nightingale
Sings his song of woe.

GIL VICENTE- The Nightingale.
--Under the linden,

On the meadow,
Where our bed arranged was,
-- There now you may find e'en

In the shadow
Broken flowers and crushed grass.
--Near the woods, down in the vale,

Sweetly sang the nightingale.

Trans. in The Minnesinger of Ger-

many. Under the Linden.


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In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower,

The spectral Owl doth dwell; Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,

But at dusk he's abroad and well! Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him

All mock him outright, by day; But at night, when the woods grow still and

dim, The boldest will shrink away! Oh, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl!


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