(Charles Bloomfield.)
'Twas the blush of the spring, vegetation was young,
And the birds with a maddening ecstasy sung
To welcome a season so lovely and gay—
But a scene the most sweet was the close of May-day.
For the air was serene, and the moon was out bright,
And Philomel boldly exerted her might
In her swellings and trillings, to rival the sound
Of the distant defiance of nightingales round.
While the cuckoo as proudly was heard to prolong,
Though daylight was over, her own mellow song,
And appeared to exult; and at intervals, too,
The owl in the distance joined in with "Too-whoo!"
Unceasing, unwearied, each, proud of his power,
Continued the contest from hour to hour;
The nightingale vaunting—the owl in reply—
With the cuckoo's response—till the moon from the sky
Was hastening down to the west, and the dawn
Was spreading the east; and the owl in the morn
Sat silently winking his eyes at the sight;
And the nightingale also had bidden "good-night."
The cuckoo, left solus, continued with glee,
His notes of defeat from his favourite tree;
At length he departed; but still as he flew,
Was heard his last notes of defiance, "Cuckoo!"
THE END.
London: R. Clay, Sons, and Taylor, Printers
NOTES:
[1] This part of the letter is very difficult of translation, as the plain word, in spiders' language, means merely "a deep one."—R. B.
[2] Cowper, that excellent man and poet, and close observer of nature, writes as follows to his friend, on the 11th of March, 1792:—
"TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ.
"You talk of primroses that you pulled on Candlemas Day, but what think you of me, who heard a nightingale on New Year's Day? Perhaps I am the only man in England who can boast of such good fortune. Good indeed! for if was at all an omen, it could not be an unfavourable one. The winter, however, is now making himself amends, and seems the more peevish for having been encroached on at so undue a season. Nothing less than a large slice out of the spring will satisfy him."
He adds the following lines on the occasion:—