The same idea, too, has been variously expressed by other poets than Shakespeare. Fletcher speaks of—
“The bird forlorn
That singeth with her breast against a thorn;”
and Pomfret, writing towards the close of the seventeenth century, says:—
“The first music of the grove we owe
To mourning Philomel’s harmonious woe;
And while her grief in charming notes express’d,
A thorny bramble pricks her tender breast.
In warbling melody she spends the night,
And moves at once compassion and delight.”