Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring- To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live! F THE SKYLARK. It would be a difficult matter to find any one resident in England who has not, some time or other, heard that sweet songster-the skylark. Even those who continually reside in large, busy cities like London and Manchester, and who have not the enjoyment of listening to its music in the open country as it soars heavenward, winging its way through the deep blue sky, may often hear it pour out its song-merry still, if the captive be tended with affectionate care-from its patch of greensward at the bottom of a cage a foot square. Generally the little prisoner is a great favourite with its master and mistress, cheering them with its lively notes, and showing evident signs of pleasure whenever they are near, and in every way appearing as happy as it possibly can be in its state of captivity. 'To be up with the lark' has long ago passed into a proverb for early rising; and heard as this bird may be any fine morning in spring, when the first faint streaks of light tinge the eastern sky, it is truly the bard of the blushing dawn; or, as Thomson expresses it, -the messenger of morn, Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts And our great poet Milton mentions that one of the And at my window bid good-morrow. But one of our comic writers takes a different view. Listen to what he says: Let others talk, upon a morning breezy, How well to rise while night and larks are flying For my part, getting up seems not as easy By half as lying. What if the lark does carol in the sky, Soaring beyond the reach of sight to find him out— I'm not a trout! Talk not to me of bees and such like hums, A bed of time. Why from a comfortable pillow start, Excepting bacon! It is to be feared there are many who practise what is thus jocularly expressed; but it should never be forgotten-and especially by the young-that those who have succeeded most in life-those who have been healthy, wealthy, and wise-have imitated the lark and other birds, in their habit of early to bed and early to rise.' Several kinds of larks are found in Europe, of which but four are to be met with in Great Britain. Of these the skylark and woodlark are the most admired. The skylark is one of the most, if not the most, common of our native songsters: and many, very many of our poets have written verses in its praise, and drawn useful lessons from its life and habits. Except when soaring, its abode is on the earth, and very rarely does it alight on a tree, hedge, or bush. Its roosting place is the ground, where too it builds its nest. It does not hop, like most of the smaller birds, but runs along with great rapidity. It is very fond of rolling itself in the dust, like our common fowl, for the purpose of cleansing its plumage; hence those who keep a lark ought to provide the captive with a constant and plentiful supply of fresh river sand. Though so lowly a bird in the choice of its abode, on the other hand, its flight is indeed a lofty one. It soars higher and higher, becoming by degrees such a tiny speck in the bright blue sky, that the eye is weary with looking at it, till at last it disappears alto gether to the sight, though we still hear its minstrel strains. It is then that we may truly say, Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings. The contrast between its humble dwelling-place and its lofty upward soaring is thus beautifully given by Charles Swain :— Wherefore is thy song so gay? Wherefore is thy flight so free? Scarcely sheltered from the mould, Tirral-la! Tirral-la! Humbly though my dwelling lie, Shall I silently repine, When these birds of loftier airs Say no parent race of mine Built a nest as high as theirs? Give me but a summer morn, Sweet with dew and golden light, And the richest plumage born Through the azure halls of day, Where the path of freedom lies, Tirral-la! is still my lay Onward, upward to the skies! The oft-repeated 'Tirral-la' is one of the common notes of this bird. And what a beautiful song that of the skylark is, as he soars aloft, singing to cheer his mate as she sits below on her eggs or broods o'er her young! What powerful notes! When he is but as a speck, or even lost to our tired gaze, his music comes ringing to our ears, so clearly and distinctly, that we wonder how so small a thing can utter it. The poet Shelley, in one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry ever written, has thus celebrated the song of the bird: Hail to thee, blithe spirit! That from heaven, or near it, In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still, and higher, From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The deep blue thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever, singest. All the earth and air As, when night is bare, The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aërial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view. Sounds of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. Teach me half the gladness The world should listen then, as I am listening now. It is said that a person accustomed to the varied song, can tell by the notes and method of singing whether the bird is ascending, is stationary in the air, or is descending, without seeing it. |