one hear the Turtles in the tree. Beyond these he notices the Swan (Purg. xix. 46); the Nightingale (Purg. xvii. 20), that delights in its own song; the Blackbird, that sings its song of joy for fair weather (Purg. xiii. 123) ("come fa il merlo per poca bonaccia"); but, above all the common birds, the Lark (Purg. XX. 71)—
"Qual lodoletta, die 'n aere si spazia,
Prima cantando, e poi tace contenta,
Dell' ultimo dolcezza clie la sazia."
Of which Landor says: "All the verses that ever were written on the Nightingale are scarcely worth the beautiful triad of this divine poet on the Lark. In the first of them do you not see the twinkling of her wings against the sky? As often as I repeat them my ear is satisfied; my heart, like hers, contented."
In conclusion, I would notice the birds at break of day. As one would imagine, Dante was an early riser, and must have often gone out to wander ere the day had fully dawned. We have already had a picture of early morning with the shepherd. In the "Paradise" (Par. xxiii. 1) he describes the bird sitting on its callow young through the night; then, eager to behold its nestlings, and to get them food,
"Previene il tempo in sul aperta frasca,
E con ardente affetto il sole aspetta,
Fiso guardando, pur che l'alba nasca."
So again (Purg. xviii.), he speaks of the tuneful quire of little birds, who cease not to employ all their skill —
"Ma con piena letizia l'ore prime,
Cantando, riceveano intra le fogli,
Che tenevan bordon alle sue rime."
And of the Swallow (Purg. ix. 14), that near the dawn "comincia i tristi lai." But of all his similes of birds in the early morning, the most perfect is that of the Rooks (Par. xxi. 35):—"And, as following their natural custom, the Rooks gather together at the break of day, move to warm their cold feathers; then some go away without return, others return whence they set out, and others, wheeling round, stay where they are." A perfect picture of a rookery waking up, and one which
