Dentirostres

"A melancholy bird! O idle thought!In nature there is nothing melancholy:But some night-wandering man, whose heart was piercedWith the remembrance of a grievous wrong,Or slow distemper, or neglected love,(And so, poor wretch! fill'd all things with himselfAnd made all gentle sounds tell back the taleOf his own sorrow,) he, and such as he,First named these notes a melancholy strain,And many a poet echoes the conceit.—————— We have learntA different lore: we may not thus profaneNature's sweet voices, always full of loveAnd joyance! Tis the merry nightingaleThat crowds, and hurries, and precipitatesWith fast thick warble his delicious notes,As he were fearful that an April nightWould be too short for him to utter forthHis love-chant, and disburthen his full soulOf all its music! ..........Far and nearIn wood and thicket over the wide groveThey answer and provoke each other's songs,With skirmish and capricious passagings,And murmurs musical, and swift 'jug, jug,'And one low piping sound more sweet than all,Stirring the air with such a harmony,That should you close your eyes you might almostForget it was not day."