Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges, With blackbirds, larks, thrushes, and nightingales.

"The flock of Nightingales that flew South during the 'winter of our discontent' are all at home again, some here and some in Heaven.

I looked at that cot, these two handsome, happy young people, and at myself, my disordered hair and clothes, my boots covered with mud, gloomy thoughts in my mind, and I felt like an owl in a nest of nightingales.

As from the Oaken leaves the honie glides Where nightingales record upon the thorne Ge.

Rosabella thought nothing could be quite so romantic as to float on the canals of Venice by moonlight and listen to the nightingales; and she should so like to cross the Bridge of Sighs!

The lark's, the linnet's chirping lays 20 To his ill-judging ears are fine; And nightingales are all divine.

The nightingales were singing in the lofty trees at the back; on the sides were shrubs of every description intermingled with fruit trees, and the river having several falls and little rocky islets, gave an air of delightful enchantment to this most romantic scene.

HONEYCOMB calls them the Ramage de la Ville, and prefers them to the Sounds of Larks and Nightingales, with all the Musick of the Fields and Woods.

[Footnote 5: Nightingales] * *

nightingales there are none.

To them the wild bee's path is taught, The crystal spheres of rain are brought, Beside them on some silent spray The nightingales sing night away, The darkness wooes them in such sort.

* Valmontone, on the road from Naples to Rome, is a strange but enchanting spot, enveloped in shade, with magnificent rocks (agglomerated volcanic ashes) hollowed into caverns, which afford coolness in this burning climate, and where an incredible number of nightingales make the whole air musical.

Not friendship's sigh, Not reason's subtle count,not melody Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew, Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales, Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress-trees To the clear moon,nor yet the spheric laws Self-chanted,nor the angels' sweet All-hails, Met in the smile of God.

Every flower was gleaming white or crimson black, and the air was a-quiver with the thridding of small crickets and nightingales singing unseen in the depths of the trees.

" The high-road ran straight as an arrow flies, straight into the deep-blue pit of sky beneath the moon, a white and shining road between the singing nightingales, and along it he went, running now and leaping, and now walking and rejoicing, in the clothes his mother had made for him with tireless, loving hands.

Hail thy green forests proud, Hail thy silvery nightingales, Hail Steppes and wind and cloud!

And the nightingales of home with their familiar song!

Spring across the fields will be returning With her silver nightingales, ere long Through the dusky nights of silence piercing E'en thy grave with her inspiring song, And the lindens whispering, will murmur Breathless die away, and sighing cease, But thouslumber soft my heart's beloved, Death alone can bring eternal peace!

O caress thy child Whom weariness, regret, despair assail With sighing of thy groves in the soft wind beguiled, With sunbeams of thy Springtime smiling fair and mild, And with the liquid song of nightingales!

he says, "What loveliness To waste upon a hound, O. "I'd give my stags, my hills and dales, My stormcocks and my nightingales To have undone this deed, O; For deep beneath

My heart is death Which for her love doth bleed, O." He wanders up, he wanders down, On foot, a-horse, by night and noon: His lands are bleak and drear, O; Forsook his dales Of nightingales, Forsook his moors of deer, O, Forsook his heart, ah me!

through its empty dales Rings from the solemn echoing boughs The music of its nightingales.

It seems that you are like the nightingales of Ourmis; you must be caged before you can sing!"

The gentle breeze bears to me the fragrant odour of the almond-trees, the nightingales are calling to each other from the rock-crevices, behind the fortress: all breathes of life and love; and beautiful nature, full of this feeling, covers herself with a veil of mists.

A song was heard from within; pretty children played around their old grandfather, who sat with the Bible on his lap and read about God, and eternal life, and spoke of the spring that would come again: he spoke of the forest that would renew its green leaves, of the roses that would flower, of the nightingales that would sing, and of the beautiful that would again be paramount.