On blossoming twig, still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.
Milton, too, in the first of his sonnets, has a beautiful address to this success portending songster:
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
While hours lead on the laughing month of May,
Thou with fresh hopes the lover’s heart dost fill.
The fishes are now inspired by the same enlivening influence which acts upon the rest of animated Nature, and in consequence, again offer themselves as a prey to the art of the angler, who returns to his usual haunt.
“Beneath a willow long forsook,