. Bards and the birds; . the mute silence hist along,Less Philomel will deign a song,In her sweetest, saddest plight,Smoothing the rugged brow of night,While Cynthia checks her dragon oer the accustomd oak : 348 BARDS AND THE BIRDS Sweet bird, that shunnst the noise of folly,Most musical, most melancholy !Thee, chantress, oft the woods amongI woo to hear thy even-song;And, missing thee, I walk unseenOn the dry smooth-shaven behold the wandering near her highest one that had been led astrayThrough the heavens wide pathless way,And oft, as if her head s
. Bards and the birds; . the mute silence hist along,Less Philomel will deign a song,In her sweetest, saddest plight,Smoothing the rugged brow of night,While Cynthia checks her dragon oer the accustomd oak : 348 BARDS AND THE BIRDS Sweet bird, that shunnst the noise of folly,Most musical, most melancholy !Thee, chantress, oft the woods amongI woo to hear thy even-song;And, missing thee, I walk unseenOn the dry smooth-shaven behold the wandering near her highest one that had been led astrayThrough the heavens wide pathless way,And oft, as if her head she bowd,Stooping through a fleecy on a plat of rising ground,I hear the far-off curfew some wide-waterd shore,Swinging slow with sullen roar. MILTON. From PARADISE LOST To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like the morn : all heaven,And happy constellations, on that hourShed their selectest influence ; the earthGave sign of gratulation, and each hill;Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs. ... Nor then the solemn NightingaleCeased warhling, but all night tuned her soft lays. Milton. SONNET 349 Whisperd it to the woods, and from their wingsFlung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub,Disporting, till the amorous bird of nightSung spousal, and bid haste the evening starOn his hill top, to light the bridal lamp. MILTON. SONNETTO THE NIGHTINGALE. O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy sprayWarblest at eve, when all the woods are still,Thou with fresh hope the lovers heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,First heard before the shallow cuckoos success in love; O if Joves will Have linkd that amorous power to thy soft lay. Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; As thou from year to year hast sung too lateFor my relief, yet hadst no reason why: Whether the muse or love call thee his mate,Both them I serve, and of their train am
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectbirdsin, bookyear1894
