Boreas blows on his high wood whistle, Over the coppice and down the lane Where the goldfinch chirps from the haulm of the thistle And mangolds gleam in the farmer's wain.

] Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh effulgence, how frequently we see the goldfinch perch on some blossomed bough, and hear its song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage.