CHAPTER V.
THE BIRDS OF SONG.
IF there is one class of birds more than another to which poets in all ages have been indebted for inspiration, and to which they have directed particular attention, it is that which includes the birds of song. Shakespeare, as a naturalist, could not have overlooked them. Nor has he done so. These “light-wing’d Dryads of the trees” have received at his hands all the praise which they deserve, while oftentimes, for melody and pathos, he may be said to have borrowed from their songs himself.
THE NIGHTINGALE.
Of all the singers in the woodland choir the Nightingale (Luscinia philomela), by common consent, stands first. For quality of voice, variety of notes, and execution, she is probably unrivalled. Hence, with poets, she has ever been the chief favourite. Izaak Walton has truly said, “The nightingale breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think
miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling, of her voice, might well be lifted above earth and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth?” To “sing like a nightingale” has passed into a proverb.
“She sings as sweetly as any nightingale.”
Taming of the Shrew, Act ii. Sc. 1.