Fearless of rapine; or in hollow trees,
Which age has caverned, safely courts repose.
The velvet jay, in pristine colors clad,
Weaves her curious nest with firm-wreathed twigs,
And sidelong forms her cautious door; she dreads
The taloned hawk, or pouncing eagle,
Herself, with craft suspicion ever dwells.
As the singing of birds is the voice of courtship and conjugal love, the concerts of the groves begin to fill all with their various melody. In England the return of the nightingale in the spring is hailed with much joy; he sings by day as well as night; but in the daytime his voice is drowned in the multitude of performers; in the evening it is heard alone, whence the poets have always made the song of the nightingale a nocturnal serenade. The author of the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” thus beautifully describes an April night, and the song of this siren: —
All is still,
A balmy night! and though the stars be dim,