wrens" here mentioned seems to be the whether this sustained and varied mel"fire-crested wren," a rarer variation ody,' so well described in of the golden-crested species with a still brighter crest of fiery orange. It As 'twere a hundred-throated nightingale, The strong tempestuous treble throbbed is quite a rare bird, but nothing is rare to the keen eye of Tennyson. We now come to the "Luscininae," those "song-warblers" who have preeminent claims on the notice of the singer of "bird's love and biru's song," "men's song and men's love," if indeed such a comparison be not matter for laughter in these latter days when the simplicity of our natural songsters does little to suggest the sickly mosaic of fantastic phrases, and the decadent artistic passimism of most of the minor poets of the day. Chief of these warblers is the far-famed nightingale (Luscinia Philomela), which has been many a time "married to immortal verse." The bird seems to be rather local, but most people have probably heard it some time or other. Tennyson, while at Cambridge, may well have heard hardly a mile out on the town on the Trumpington Road such a chorus of song as the present writer enjoyed one summer's night, when the trees seemed full of innumerable melodists. The Bulbul or Oriental nightingale, so often celebrated by Hafiz and Sadi, which finds a fitting place in the "Recollections of the Arabian Nights" and a passage of Eastern metaphor in "The Princess," differs from its English compeer in boasting a gaudy plumage, but, if travellers may be trusted, our English bird is, if plain in the neatness of his attire, far the better songster. Yet the Oriental writers refer to their bird on every page. A cynic would account for this by the fact that "nightingale" in Persian rhymes with "rose" and "wine." The male bird is plain in appearance, but the hen is still more soberly attired, and, it need hardly be said, does not, as many poets following Greek legend have supposed, sing, but merely lays those four or five olive-green eggs, of which Tennyson has so exquisitely said: "The music of the moon sleeps in the plain eggs of the nightingale." A question difficult to decide is and palpitated, is an expression of gaiety or sadness. and all traditions classical and Oriental, And all about us pealed the nightingale snare. One great feature of Tennyson's references to birds is his full and felicitous vocabulary, seen for instance to great advantage in the Swallow-song of "The Princess." One can well believe the story of the man who sat up all night searching for the adjective, and was annoyed and pleased at the same time to discover, when he had found it at last, that Tennyson had used it before him. Bryant, a poet, of by means contemptible taste and expression, wrote in his "Death of the Flowers:" no The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay, And from the woodtop calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Tennyson would never have gathered up two such different notes as those of the jay and the crow in one verb, still less would he have sanctioned the reading of "caws" for "calls" as Bryant is reported to have done. Jays, as a won 8 White ("Nat. Hist. of Selborne," Lett. xlv.) speaks of "their transitions as so rapid that he cannot well ascertain their key." derful appreciation of the bird by America's foremost humorist will not let us forget, do not "caw," but laugh. Of the nightingale and the lark the word "warble" is admirably descriptive, and the English poet uses it with great effect in the refrain of the touching lyric "In the Garden at Swainston" -the garden where he first conceived "Maud," a poem full of all the midsummer passion, which the nightingale and Heine (and few other singers) bring before us so vividly. To those who have really heard the bird, and know its music well, “jug, jug" is surely not a fair reproduction of its voice; a passage of Tennyson's with a bold originality expresses it better. The grandmother, in the rather weak poem of that title, shows, as is usual with a rustic, no fine appreciation of the note in her "Whit, whit, whit in the bush beside me chirrupt the nightingale," but in "The Princess" we read: "At my ear Bubbled the nightingale and heeded not." This bold expression seems to render the liquid quality of note which distinguishes the nightingale from other birds better than other poets have done with all their raptures careless or elaborated. The same tine discrimination, far above the mere verbal prettiness which some can only see in Tennyson, is marked in the passage where the delicate modulations of Enid's voice moved Geraint And made him like a man abroad at morn, And he suspends his converse with a friend To think or say "There is the nightingale." In this passage, and in the epithet "sudden," Tennyson points to one of the chief charms of the bird, which is, that it sings unseen, thus cleverly anarrangement ticipating the best of modern orchestras. In Italy, if we may trust Pliny, it was cleverer still, being taught by Drusus and Germanicus to deliver long oratorical passages in Latin and Greek. This is as bad as Hans Andersen's story of the artificial clockwork bird, and we are glad to think that no such professional training in England has substituted artificial prose for the natural melody which rings through the woods "full-toned in middle May." We have no space to do more than refer to "The Gardener's Daughter," "The Palace of Art," and that strangely neglected poem "The Ancient Sage," for further notice of the nightingale. After the nightingale are classed the redbreast or robin, and those “winged nothings," the titmice. The robin, a most combative bird, is well known for the strange friendships which it strikes up with man, even going so far as to drive other birds jealously from its friend. Tennyson has a twice-repeated line As careful robins eye the delver's toil— which suggests something of the formality of the eighteenth-century manner, and is not so successful as many of the natural images of the "Idylls of the King." A reference in "Enoch Arden" is more picturesque, and shows the deft hand which so often wrote well of our wretched English weather, and even glorified an autumn fog, On the high-naked tree the robin piped Disconsolate, and thro' the dripping haze The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down. All will recall one of the many signs of the prime season of the year in "Locksley Hall" In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast. The titmice are singularly lively little birds. They "glance" (as is said in "The Progress of Spring"), and are among the birds which share the lover's joy at "Ay"— Look how they tumble the blossom, the mad little tits! Maud, the exquisite, wins all flowers and birds, and "the titmouse hopes to win her with its chirrup at her ear." To the blackbird a whole poem has been addressed, which, though written in elaborate and polished style, hits off well the glories of the golden bill, and that other marked characteristic of the bird-a taste for ripe fruit, especially cherries-which often brings it to an untimely end. The song thrush or throstle (Turdus musicus) takes a high rank among singing birds, and has also been noticed by Tennyson in a separate poem of his later years, full of the spring, and, if somewhat marred by over repetition, fit to stand beside his "Swallow," if only for the phrase "my wild little poet." In his "Juvenilia" he wrote somewhat Keenly critical indeed and fine in taste was the poet who could afford to omit such things from his works. A similar reference, however, to the woodpecker survives in "The Princess:" And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth An echo like a ghostly woodpecker Of all birds, crows and rooks are considered the most prophetical and ominous. The Arab says, "I have seen the raven of separation.” The “fatal raven" was the device of Odin and the Danish standard; Cicero was forewarned of his death by these "sad affectedly, "the callow throstle lispeth," presaging" birds; Shakespeare calls but later, in Then while a sweeter music wakes And thro' wild March the throstle calls, he has done more justice to this simple songster. The missel thrush (Turdus viscivorus), which is larger than its brother, the song thrush, is quite as musical, and may be referred to in "In Memorian" (91): When rosy plumelets tuft the larch, And rarely pipes the mounted thrush. The crow family includes the wellknown jay, whose Latin title, Garrulus glandularius (a talkative eater of acorns), is more descriptive than usual. The bird's sarcastic sounding cry is well hit off in: Thro' damp holts new flushed with may Ring sudden scritches of the jay. The word italicized is an instance of Tennyson's careful reworking of his material. He wrote originally "laughters of the jay," but reserved this expression for the woodpecker in a poem now omitted from his works. His portrait gallery of fair maids once included "Kate:" I know her by her angry air, Her bright black eyes, her bright black hair, Her rapid laughter, wild and shrill, From the bosom of the hill. them "night's black agents." This is, perhaps, due to their solemn black plumage. The crow, raven and rook, are all very alike in appearance, and Tennyson (like Shakespeare in "Macbeth," iii., 2) does not care to distinguish them, e.g., "the many-wintered crow leads the clanging rookery home." An interesting query arises here. Was the epithet "manywintered" suggested by Shakespeare's "Phoenix and Turtle," "Thou trebledated crow," or by Horace with his annosa cornix (Od. iii., 17. 13)? Both sources were so often drawn upon by the poet that we cannot decide for either with certainty. For the ominous use of the bird, cf. "For a raven ever croaks at my side, keep watch and ward, keep watch and ward;" and in "Guinevere" A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high, Croak'd, and she thought, "He spies a field of death." Tennyson has noted the fondness of rooks for elm trees in "The Princess" and "The May Queen" has-"The buildtree." We may content ourselves with ing rook'll caw from the windy tall elm two more references. There is: Autumn with a noise of rooks That gather in the waning woodsand a passage in "Maud:" Birds in the high Hall-garden, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, They were crying and calling. Concerning which Mrs. Ritchie has told a pleasant story. The "Maud, Maud, Maud," represents "caw, caw, caw," and Tennyson expected those to whom he read his poem to realize this with as fine an ear for sound as his own. The striking phrase of the "Battle of Brunanburh" "the horny-nibb'd raven" -is due to the Anglo-Saxon chronicler there translated. Nothing is more remarkable than the fine instinct with which the poet preserves other men's flowers for his own posies. He was, like Keats, a "lover of fine phrases." All the crow family, which includes the magpie and jackdaw, are great conversationalists. This feature is happily referred to in the lines to F. D. Maurice: You'll have no scandal while you dine, But honest talk and wholesome wine, And only hear the magpie gossip Garrulous under a roof of pine. The jackdaw can talk too, but he is more mischievous than the magpie, and his vivacious chatter seems often not O wretched set of sparrows, one and all, Who pipe of nothing but of sparrowhawks Their song, brings us to the linnets. though not powerful, is very sweet, and aptly compared to that of women, whose voices should, on good authority, be "low and soft." The lyrics of "The Princess" are introduced by the words:— the women sang Between the rougher voices of the men, Like linnets in the pauses of the wind. There are at least three references to the bird in "In Memoriam" which will be familiar to readers. Naturalists say that linnets prefer the seed of the thistle to other food; so Tennyson makes the little novice's father in "Guinevere" be hold three spirits mad with joy Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower, That shook beneath them as the thistle shakes, When three grey linnets wrangle for the seed. Few birds are better known than the quite good-humored, as the epithet of linnet, yet many have failed to recog "In Memoriam" hints: quarry trench'd along the hill, And haunted by the wrangling daw. Human metaphor applied to birds is bold, but generally successful with Ten nyson. It is effective in "The starling claps his tiny castanets." But such versatility of expression leads into dangerous pitfalls, and, lest we should seem to praise indiscriminately, we quote from an early poem, "Cries of the partridge like a rusty key turn'd in a lock." This is over grotesque, and not particularly happy. In the same poem (The Lover's Tale), a general reference to birds, "Till thou wake refresh'd, then when the first low matin chirp hath grown full quire," is rather affected and formal. A passing reference to the humble sparrow who, with his "chirrup on the roof," adds to the dreary loneliness of "Mariana," and supplies Geraint with a scornful image: nize it, says Wood, as it is one of those which "make ready for their bridal time by change of feather." sis) is very fully noticed by Tennyson, The exquisite skylark (Alauda arven fail to love so "blithe a spirit." The present poet-laureate, in a quatrain on the Postman-poet, wrote: and indeed by all the poets who cannot O Lark-like poet! carol on and was accused in the daily papers of poetical larceny from "In Memoriam" (canto 115): And drown'd in yonder living blue, All this is most unfair and in the best slashing and ignorant style affected by the literary critics of the daily newspapers. To begin with, the passage is nothing like a plagiarism; one might as well say that Tennyson had copied Wordsworth, or cut out on the same grounds at least half of Mr. William Watson's work. A slight study of Tennyson would show that he has often is gone almost before it has been seen. This is expressed in an idiomatic perfect tense in "The Flight:”— listen how the birds copied much more literally the work of Begin to warble yonder in the budding earlier men without incurring blame or acknowledging his debt. His successor is then quite at liberty to echo him, and could hardly, if the passage quoted is really an echo, choose a better source to copy from. No one pretends that the present laureate is the equal of his predecessor in the office; but all serious students of literature must regret the foolish and unjust attacks on him which are fashionable at present. On the subject of the skylark perhaps Shelley has said the most notable things; but, exquisite as his poem is, one feels that he writes not of the bird itself as seen everywhere, but of an ideal lark, a beautiful abstraction too philosophic and vaguely atmospheric to recall reality. Tennyson's lark, on the contrary, is no dream or vision, but the living pleasure and delight of our English country life. It is pleasant to notice that the chief modern representative society of our English farmers— the "British Produce Supply Association"-has refused to trade in larks. The many references which Tennyson makes to the lark also illustrate two notable points in his style. One is the use of compound adjectives, which appears in "the quick lark's closest caroll'd strains," and "lavish carol of clear-throated larks." He has also a great fondness for negative words. "Sightless" occurs in the passage of "In Memoriam" (canto 115) quoted above, and in the silent isle of "The Voyage of the Maeldune" there was "a songless lark." Faith "hears the lark within the songless egg" in "The Ancient Sage." The rapid flight of the bird is well rendered in "The Princess:" Morn by morn the lark Shot up and shrilled in flickering gyres, and, when the spring is come, "upleaps the lark gone wild to welcome her." The lark "drops down" at the poet's feet. Indeed the course of the bird from earth to heaven is so swift that it orchard trees! The lark has past from earth to Heaven upon the morning breeze! A lyrical song of his latest period in "The Promise of May" begins:O happy lark, that warblest high Above thy lowly nest. The "Idylls of the King" are full of the most natural and unstudied similes: Gareth "would whistle rapid as any lark," and Lancelot says: Always in the quiet house I heard The barge in "Morte d'Arthur" moves "like some full-breasted swan," and Galen hisses like "the white swanmother sitting when she hears a strange knee rustle thro' her secret reeds." After the lark the cuckoo sounds "clamorous," as Tennyson has called it. A popular rhyme says of the bird: In June he alters his tune, In July he prepares to fly, and Tennyson refers to the loss of tone in the cuckoo as the year goes on in "the cuckoo of a joyless June," and "the cuckoo of a worse July." The usual significance of the Shakespearian cuckoo is not very edifying, and the modern poet has wisely not reproduced it. The line "I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl" refers to a curious phenomenon, which many naturalists have noticed. Smaller birds have a way of following the cuckoo through the air, as if he were a hawk. The references to the dove are perhaps a little conventional. To call a girl a dove is natural, and there are plenty of instances in the Song of Solomon and elsewhere. Twice in "In Memoriam" a dove brings a summons like the biblical one of the ark. Admirable, however, |