as in young ſparrows: the head, back, and coverts of the wings are of a pale tawny, daſhed with olive: the throat, breaſt, and upper part of the belly are of a light gloſſy aſh colour, but lower near the vent the feathers are white. The tail is near three inches long, and conſiſts of twelve feathers of a deep tawny red; the rump and feathers that cover the root of the tail are of the ſame colour. There are eighteen quill feathers in each wing, the exterior webs of which are of a duſky red. The legs and feet are of a fleſh colour in ſome, but in others duſky. The irides of this bird are yellow, and the eyes are remarkably large and piercing. In this ſpecies there are no particular marks to diſtinguiſh the cock from the hen, though in general it may be obſerved the colours are more lively in the former.
Though the nightingale has no exterior charms, no beautiful colours to pleaſe the eye, though he is not diſtinguiſhed for the fineneſs of his dreſs, and the elegance of his plumage, he has other qualifications to recommend him, other accompliſhments which render him truly amiable. The melody of his voice ſufficiently compenſates for his want of beauty, and no other bird can vie with him in the ſoftneſs, the ſtrength, the boldneſs, and the variety of his notes. Though he does not exceed the ſparrow in magnitude, he is the loudeſt warbler of the woods, and the moſt pleaſing of all the grove. Its melody is ſo ſoft, and its tuneful tranſitions ſo ſweet, that it ſooths the imagination, agreebly lulls the mind, delights the ear, and wonderfully elevates the hearts of thoſe who liſten with attention to its inimitably pleaſing ſtrains. Lovers of nature, and thoſe who are fond of retirement in particular, it charms in a peculiar manner, and nothing can afford ſuch ſoft and innocent muſic to them who are addicted to ſolitude and contemplation, as the agreeable trillings of this night-warbling bird.
Philomela (if we may uſe the poetical epithet) has in all ages been highly eſteemed and admired, and almost every poet mentions it with delight.—Milton was remarkably ſtruck with its melody, and often did his muſe invite him to ſing of his much-favoured bird: often were the charms of the nightingale the ſubject of his rapturous theme. In Paradiſe Loſt, Book IV. Verſe 595, &c. he deſcribes, in a very beautiful and elegant manner, the ſolemn approach of night, and the ſweet warbling of the nocturnal bird.
Now came ſtill evening on, and twilight grey
Had in her ſober liv'ry all things clad;
Silence accompany'd for beaſt and bird,
They to their graſſy couch, theſe to their neſts
Were ſlunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;
She all night long her am'rous deſcant ſung.
At the conſummation of the nuptials of our primæval parents, Milton again introduces his favourite bird to chaunt the marriage ſong, and all nature ſeems to exult, all nature ſeems to concur in expreſſing her joy at the ſuperlative happineſs of the bleſſed pair!
—————The earth
Gave ſigns of gratulation, and each hill;
Joyous the birds; freſh gales and gentle airs
Whiſper'd it to the woods, and from their wings
Flung roſe, flung odours from the ſpicy ſhrub,
Diſporting, till the am'rous bird of night
Sung ſpouſal, and bid haſte the evening ſtar
On his hill top to light the bridal lamp:
Theſe lull'd by nightingales embracing ſlept,
And on their naked limbs the flow'ry roof
Strew'd roſes, which the morn repair'd.
This bird is the more valued, becauſe it entertains us when all the reſt are ſilent. It takes its name from night, and the Saxon word galan, to ſing, expreſſive of the time of its harmony. They begin their ſong at the approach of eve, and commonly perſevere in it the whole night. 'Tis true it ſings frequently in the day too when the weather is ſerene; but the duſky hour is its favourite ſeaſon: and when the whole creation is ſolemn and huſhed in ſilence, methinks its ſong is more pleaſing, and ſtrikes the mind with an agreeable awe and veneration.
When the ſable ſhadows are ſtreched over the earth, and ſober eve ſucceeds the golden day, delightful is the
