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THE BULFINCH'S SONNET.

Loxia Pyrrhula.-LINNÆUS.

"The bulfinch whistles soft his flute-like notes."

SAVAGE.

We live without LAW, and we love without care;
And my mate is delighted my feelings to share.
We live without LAW, and we love without strife ;
Oh what is so sweet as the bulfinch's life?

Our Laws are our FEELINGS, which prompt us to show
Affection to all that inhabits below.

From my mate is ne'er heard the harsh word of command;

But a look, always kind, is the wizard's sole wand.
Son of freedom himself, he's the friend of the free;
No constraint could be pleasing to him or to me.
It is thus he insures the AFFECTIONS' control;
And thus, without LAW, he possesses my soul.

Come, MAN! and learn THOU, from the birds of the

grove,

What HAPPINESS waits on such generous love! (49)

(49) ORDER, PASSERES, (Linn.) BULFINCH.

The BULFINCH, (Loxia Pyrrhula,) Red-hoop, Hoop, Tonyhoop, Alp, or Nope, is so well known as to need little description. The head, wings, and tail, are black; the breast and belly red; the upper tail coverts and vent white. The male is distinguished from the female by the superior blackness of his crown, and by the rich crimson which adorns his cheeks, breast, belly, and throat; those parts of the female being of a dirty buff colour. The plumage is, however, variable, some individuals being wholly black; others white, with black spots on the back. About six inches long.

This is one of the few species of birds of which the female also sings. See Mr. SWEET's letter in the Introduction. This bird is so docile that, having but two or three harsh notes, it becomes, by regular education, proficient in music. It may be taught to speak as well as sing. It is found in our woods and thickets throughout the year; seen sometimes in gardens attacking the buds of plums, and generally considered destructive to them; but its object, most probably, is not the bud itself, but the worm in it. Builds in a black or white thorn bush; eggs four or five, bluish white, speckled and streaked with purple.

THE RING-DOVE'S LAMENT.

Columba Palumbus.--(LINN:)

Dear is my little native vale,

The RING-DOVE builds and murmurs there.

ROGERS.

Why, alas! am I forsaken?

If forsaken ?-Is it true?Still AFFECTION will awaken

Thoughts of Happiness and you ;—

You-you-you!

How have I in aught offended?
With disdain why me pursue?
AFFECTION, with my being blended,
Ever dwells, in thought, with You;-

You-you-you.

More professing you may find one,—
More imposing-not more true;
But a heart-where meet more kind one,
One that, e'er, will beat for you?

You-you—you.

O, return!-return! and gladden
This poor heart, forlorn, yet true;-
Bid begone all cares that sadden ;-
Here waits Happiness for you;

You-you-you! (50)

(50) Order, PASSERES, (Linn.) COLUMBA, (Lath.) WOODPIGEON.

The Columba Palumbus, WoOD-PIGEON, Ring-Dove, RingPigeon, Queeze, Quest, Wood-Quist, or Cushat,* is cinereous, tail feathers black on the bind part; primary quill feathers whitish on the outer edge; neck each side white; eighteen inches long; inhabits Europe, our own country, and, occasionally, Siberia; heard sometimes near London, as, in Kensington Gardens. Flesh of course good. It is indigenous to this country, and migrates, most probably, only from the northern to the southern parts. In winter they assemble in large flocks, and constantly resort to woods to roost on the highest trees; on which too they build their nests, composed only of a few sticks, (see the Introduction.) Eggs two, white, exactly oval, and larger than those of the domestic pigeon, with which, and with this species, attempts have been made to produce a breed, but without sucFeeds on grain, seeds, &c.

cess.

The cooing notes of the wood-pigeon are somewhat loud, yet hoarse, aud uttered very slowly; they seem to be notes of sorrow, and consist principally of such sounds as are conveyed by the words two, two, two, taffy take two; they are probably neither more nor less than the natural expressions of pleasurable sensation peculiar to this tribe of birds. See note (7.)

* "Perch'd on his wonted eyrie nigh,
Sleep seal'd the tercelet's wearied eye,
That all the day had watch'd so well
The cushat dart across the dell."

SIR WALTER SCOTT's Rokeby, Cunto vi.

THE BLACK-CAP'S SONG.

Motacilla Atricapilla.—LINNÆUS.

Sylvia Atricapilla.-LATHAM.

"The mimic melodist,

The BLACK-CAP from some tangled sloe bush trills
His varying song: now as some merulid's,

Now as Luscinian Sylviad's* aloud

His note; and now in strain original

Excites the woods to listen.".

From an unpublished Poem

Her loveliness, oh, who shall tell,

Or, of beauty, what is the magic spell;-
And what that affection, pure and fine,
That around the heart unseen doth twine?

And who shall tell the deep feeling now
That is hid in the leaves of the waving bough;-
And who shall tell that breast's delight,
When my song lays it gently to rest at night?

Hush, hush, ye winds! and ye noises rude!
On my love's repose how dare ye intrude;
Begone with thy steeds, thou garish day!
And then I will warble my love a lay. (1)

The Nightingale.

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