Rom.  It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops:
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul.   Yond light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet; thou needst not to be gone.

Rom.  Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye,
’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow.
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
How is’t my soul? let’s talk: it is not day.

Jul.   It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune.
*   *   *   *   *   *   *
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had changed voices too![204]

The Song-Thrush

The Ouzel and Throstle

The BLACKBIRD or OUZEL, depicted in Bottom’s song as “so black of hue, with orange-tawny bill,” though one of our most melodious songsters, receives no commendation from Shakespeare. It is only once again mentioned by him, when its name is used with a rather uncomplimentary meaning. When Justice Shallow enquires of his brother magistrate regarding his god-daughter, Silence replies, “Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow.”[205] It is a pity that the old and distinctive name ouzel for this bird has become obsolete, though it may still be heard in use in Scotland. On the other side of the Tweed, also, where so many linguistic relics of the old alliance with France still remain, the blackbird is likewise known by its French name of merle, while the common name of the thrush is mavis, likewise from the French mauvis.

The THRUSH or THROSTLE, another of our most musical warblers, is cited thrice by Shakespeare without any further comment on his voice than the compliment in Bottom’s song—“with his note so true.” The bird comes into one of Autolycus’ songs: