in ornithology; a species of Motacilla; under which article it happened to be omitted.

The nightingale takes its name from night, and the Saxon word galan, “to sing;” expressive of the time of its melody. In size it is equal to the redstart; but longer-bodied, and more elegantly made. The colours are very plain. The head and back are of a pale tawny, dished with olive: the tail is of a deep tawny red: the throat, breast, and upper part of the belly, of a light glossy ash-colour: the lower belly almost white: the exterior webs of the quill-feathers are of a dull reddish brown; the interior of brownish ash-colour: the irides are hazel, and the eyes remarkably large. large and piercing: the legs and feet a deep ash-colour.

This bird, the most famed of the feathered tribe, for the variety, length, and sweetness of its notes, visits England in the beginning of April, and leaves us in August. It is a species that does not spread itself over the island. It is not found in North Wales; or in any of the English counties north of it, except Yorkshire, where they are met with in great plenty about Doncaster. They have been also heard, but rarely, near Shrewsbury. It is also remarkable, that this bird does not migrate so far west as Devonshire and Cornwall; counties where the seasons are so very mild, that myrtles flourish in the open air during the whole year: neither are they found in Ireland. Sibbald places them in his list of Scotch birds; but they certainly are unknown in that part of Great Britain, probably from the scarcity and the recent introduction of hedges there. Yet they visit Sweden, a much more severe climate. In England they frequent thick hedges, and low coppices; and generally keep in the middle of the bush, so that they are very rarely seen. They form their nest of oak leaves, a few bents and reeds. The eggs are of a deep brown. When the young ones first come abroad, and are helpless, the old birds make a plaintive and jarring noise with a sort of snapping as if in menace, pursuing along the hedge the passers-by.

They begin their song in the evening, and continue it the whole night. These their vigils did not pass unnoticed by the ancients: the slumber of these birds were proverbial; and not to rest as much as the nightingale, expressed a very bad sleeper (a). This was the favourite bird of the British poet, who omits no opportunity of introducing it, and almost constantly noting its love of solitude and night. How finely does it serve to compose part of the solemn scenery of his Penforsos; when he describes it

In her fadest sweetest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of night; While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, Gently o'er th' accustomed oak. Sweet bird, that flutters the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chantress, oft the woods among, I woo to hear thy evening song.

In another place he styles it the solemn bird; and again speaks of it,

As the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and, in fadest covert hid, Tunes her nocturnal note.

The reader will excuse a few more quotations from the same poet, on the same subject; the first describes the approach of evening, and the retiring of all animals to their repose.

Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, there to their nests Were sunk; all but the watchful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descent sung.

When Eve passed the irksome night preceding her fall, she, in a dream, imagines herself thus reproached with losing the beauties of the night by indulging too long a repose.

Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save where silence yields

(a) Elian var. hist. 577. both in the text and note.

To the night-warbling bird, that now awake Tones sweetest his love-labour'd song.

The same birds sing their nuptial song, and lull them to rest. How rapturous are the following lines! how expressive of the delicate sensibility of our Milton's tender ideas!

The earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night Sung spondaic, and bid haste the evening star On his hill-top to light the bridal lamp. There, lull'd by nightingales, embracing slept; And on their naked limbs the flowery roof Show'd roses, which the morn repair'd.

These quotations from the best judge of melody, we thought due to the sweetest of our feathered choiristers; and we believe no reader of taste will think them tedious.

Virgil seems to be the only poet among the ancients who hath attended to the circumstance of this bird's singing in the night time.

Qualis populat marens Philomela sub umbra Amicus queritur fetus, quos durus arator Observans nido implamis detraxit: at illa Flet nomen, ramique fedens miserabile cermon Integra, et melius late loco quislibus implet.

Georg. IV. I. 511.

As Philomel in poplar shades, alone, For her lost offspring pours a mother's moan, Which fond rough shepherdman marking for his prey, From the warm nest, unfeast'd hath dragg'd away; Perch't on a bough, she all night long complains, And fills the grove with sad repeated strains. F. Warton.

Pliny has described the warbling notes of this bird, with an elegance that bespeaks an exquisite sensibility of taste, lib. x. c. 29.

If the nightingale is kept in a cage, it often begins to sing about the latter end of November, and continues its song more or less till June.—A young canary-bird, linnet, skylark, or robin (who have never heard any other bird), are said best to learn the note of a nightingale.