And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.”
King John, Act v. Sc. 7.
Again, in Lucrece, we read—
“And now this pale swan in her watery nest,
Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending.”
But although the swan has no “song,” properly so called, it has a soft and rather plaintive note, monotonous, but not disagreeable. I have often heard it in the spring, when swimming about with its young.
SONG OF THE SWAN.
Colonel Hawker, in his “Instructions to Young Sportsmen” (11th ed. p. 269), says:—“The only note which I ever heard the wild swan, in winter, utter, is his well-known
‘whoop.’ But one summer evening I was amused with watching and listening to a domesticated one, as he swam up and down the water in the Regent’s Park. He turned up a sort of melody, made with two notes, C and the minor third, E flat, and kept working his head as if delighted with his own performance.