Thus it was evidently believed by the poets, whether the idea was founded on fact or not, that the nightingale leaned her breast against a thorn when she gave forth her mournful notes. The origin of such a belief it is not easy to ascertain, but we suspect Sir Thomas Browne was not far from the truth when he pointed to the fact that the nightingale frequents thorny copses, and builds her nest amongst brambles on the ground. He inquires “whether it be any more than that she placeth some prickles on the outside of her nest, or roosteth in thorny, prickly places, where serpents may least approach her?”[70] In an article upon this subject, published in “The Zoologist,” for 1862, p. 8,029, the Rev A. C. Smith has narrated “the discovery, on two occasions, of a strong thorn projecting upwards in the centre of the nightingale’s nest.” It can hardly be doubted, however, that this was the result of accident rather than design; and Mr. Hewitson, in his “Eggs of British Birds,” has adduced two similar instances in the case of the hedge-sparrow. We may accordingly dismiss the idea that there is any real foundation for such belief, and regard it as a poetic license.
SINGING BY DAY AND BY NIGHT.
There is no doubt that one great charm in the song of the nightingale is, that it is heard oftenest at eve, when nearly every other bird is hushed and gone to roost. We are thus enabled to pay more attention to it, and hear the entire song. This evidently was Milton’s idea when he wrote, in “Il Penseroso:”—
“Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy evening song.”
Portia says, in The Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1,—
“I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,