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that most poetical of old mansions; and the ancient of relations also in America: the Whip-poor-Will, housekeeper, at that time its sole inhabitant, pointed the Willy-come-go, the Work-away, and the Who out this flower with a particular emphasis. “And are-you? being all of the same family. In Africa here is the rose of May," said she, drawing out a and among the American Indians these birds are slender spray from a tangle of jessamine that hung looked upon with reverence or fear; for, by some about the stone-work of the terrace; “a main pretty they are supposed to be haunted by the dead, and by thing, though there's little store set by it now-a. others 10 be obedient to gloomy or evil spirits. The days."
Dor-Hawk of our own country bas been subject to slander, as his name of the goal-sucker shows. This
name originated of course in districts where goals THE DOR-HAWK.
were used for milking, and furnished, no doubt, an
excuse for the false herd, who stole the milk and FERN-OWL, Churn-owl, or Goat-sucker,
blamed the bird. Night-jar, Dor-hawk, or whate'er
The Dor-Hawk, like the owl, is not seen in the Be thy name among a dozen,
day; and like it also, is an inhabitant of wild and Whip-poor-Will's and Who-are-you's cousin,
gloomy scenes; heathy tracks abounding in fern; Chuck-Will's-widow's near relation,
moors, and old woods. It is so regular in the time Thou art at thy night vocation,
of beginning its nightly cry, that good old Gilbert Thrilling the still evening air !
White declares, it appeared to him to strike up ex. In the dark brown wood beyond us,
actly when the report of the Portsmouth evening gun Where the night lies dusk and deep;
was heard. He says also, that its voice, which reWhere the fox his furrow maketh,
sembles the loud purring of a cat, occasions a singuWhere the tawny owl awaketh
lar vibration even in solid buildings; for that, as he Nightly from his day-long sleep;
and some of his neighbours sate in a hermitage on a
steep hill-side, where they had been taking tea, a There Dor-hawk is thy abiding,
Dor-Ilawk alighted on the little cross at the top, and Meadow green is not for thee;
uttered his cry, making the walls of the building While the aspen branches shiver,
sensibly vibrate, to the wonder of all the company. 'Mid the roaring of the river,
I can give no anecdotes of the bird from my own Comes thy chirring voice to me.
experience. I know him best by his voice, heard Bird, thy form I never looked on,
mostly from scenes of a wild and picturesque charAnd to see it do not care ;
acter, in the gloom and shadow of evening, or in the Thou hast been, and thou art only
deep calm of summer moonlight. I heard him first As a voice of forests lonely,
in a black, solemn-looking wood, between Houghton Heard and dwelling only there.
Tower, and Pleasington Priory, in Lancashire. Since
then I have become familiar with his voice in the Bringing thoughts of dusk and shadow; pleasant woods of Winter-down, and Claremont, in
Trees huge-branched in ceaseless change; Surrey.
Sing for the Oak-Tree,
The monarch of the wood;
Sing for the Oak-tree,
That groweth green and good ;
That groweth broad and branching
Within the forest shade;
That groweth now, and yet shall grow
When we are lowly laid!
The Oak Tree was an acorn once,
And fell upon the earth;
And sun and showers nourished it,
And gave the Oak-tree birth.
The little sprouting Oak-Tree!
Two leaves it had at first,
Till sun and showers had nourished it,
Then out the branches burst.
Its root was like a thread, ria, as in the hot jungles of India, and the lion-haunted Till the kindly earth had nourished it, furests of Africa, has, as we have said, a large class Then out it freely spread :
On this side and on that side
Thou art some pixy, quaint and queer;
Thou art not canny, Poll, I fear!
Look at that impish leer of thine;
List to thy scream, thy shout, thy whine,
And none will doubt but thou must be
A creature of the faëry.
Or tell me, Poll, art thou not kin
To Jack o' lanthern? Come, begin!
Answer me, Poll, was ’t 'mong the fairies
Thou learnt thy many strange vagaries?
Speak, pretty Poll!
Well, I don't care if I tell you all. Nor doth its verdure fail;
You've got some company, I see; a short gentleman Its heart is like the iron-wood,
and a tall; Its bark like plated mail.
Many ladies, too, altogether two or three dozens, Now, cut us down the Oak-Tree,
I should not wonder if they are some of your uncles The monarch of the wood;
and cousins! And of its timbers stout and strong
Pray am not I a very fine bird,
Green, and yellow, and scarlet?
Upon my word! The Oak-Tree of the forest
That man has a coat on like our Captain!
Poll, how do you do, my dear?
You look well; it's fine living here!
Ha, Captain, how do you do ?-Captain, your health,
I say ; Then sing for the Oak-Tree,
Captain, I'll have the pleasure of drinking your The monarch of the wood;
health to-day! ha! ha ! ha! Sing for the Oak-Tree,
I'm very glad to see you !-You remember, perhaps, That groweth green and good ;
That wood in Carolina, the guns and all the traps ;That groweth broad and branching
To be sure you do !- Ladies, I'm a Carolina bird, Within the forest shade ;
Some come from the East Indies, from the Cape, too, That groweth now, and yet shall grow,
I have heard ;
But I'm of Carolina — to the Big-bone lick I've
Our Captain knows thal! Ay, Captain, I say,
Do you remember crossing the Cedar Swamp one
particular day, Parrots, with all their cleverness, are not capa- When I got out of your pocket and few away? ble of keeping up a dialogue ; otherwise we might Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! How it makes me laugh! suppose something like the following to be in charac- You'd a pretty chase after me!-ha! ha! a pretty ter with their humour and experience.
chase! Poll's MISTRESS.
And I sat in the hiccory trees, laughing in your face!
Ha! ha! ha! bow I did laugh. I've heard of imp, I've heard of sprite ;
What cypress-berries, cockle-burrs, and beech-nuts Or fays and fairies of the night; Of that renowned fiend Hobgoblin,
You may look all this country over, and find nono Running, racing, jumping, hobbling; Of Puck, brimful of fun; also
And what fun it was—me, and a thousand beside, Of roguish Robin Goodfellow. I've seen a hearth where, as is told,
To fly in the merry sunshine through those forests
wide, Came Hobthrush in the days of old,
And build our nests - Oh, what nests we had ! To make the butter, mend the linen,
Did you ever see one of our nests, Captain? Eh, my And keep the housewife's wheel a-spinning.
lad ?" I've heard of pigmies, pixies, lares,
I've heard of nests of cinnamon,
With the great Phænix set thereon;
And swallows' nests, so rich and sweet, There, now, I am better! but my throat is quite hot; or which the Chinese people eat;
Can't I have a glass of water?—(She coughs.) Bless But of your nests I never heard,
me, what a cold I've got! What kind are they, I pray thee, bird? Do, shut that window, Jenny, or we shall all die of
cold ; PARROT.
And mend the fire, can't you, as you already have Nests! ha! ha! ha! what sort of nests should they be? been told! You may fancy if you please, but you 'll never know And let's have a cup of tea, for I'm just tired to from me!
death. I never blab, not I! What sort of nest is built ? What a shocking cold it is! and I'm so short of Ha! ha! ha! with sheets and blankets and a fine breath!-(She coughs again.) Marseilles quilt! ha! ha! ha!
(She speaks in another voice.) Put it down in your little book, — a four-post bed, 1 Tea 's ready, if you please. Rendy is it? say,
With the water in the pot? With damask moreen hangings, and made every day! Yes, ma'am! Well, then, I'll go and have my tea, ha! ha! ha!
while the muffin's hot! Oh, how it makes me laugh! ha! ha! ha!
Erit POLL. I shall split my sides with laughing some of these days! ha! ha! ha!
The Parrot of which we have been reading, may
be supposed to have been the one of which so interCAPTAIN.
esting an account is given by Wilson in his American Come, now. you silly prate-a-pace
Ornithology. It was taken at the Big-bone lick, Tell us about that Big-bone place,
where he witnessed the extreme affection and strong Where our acquaintance first began; sympathy which the parrots have for each other, and And of those swamps, untrode by man, of which we have imagined our bird to speak. Its Where you came, impudent and merry, merriment, too, respecting the nests of the tribe, may For cockle-burr and hackle-berry.
pass as natural, considering the little light Wilson
could obtain on the subject, and the vivacious mockPARROT.
ery of the bird's disposition, even if it had had the of the Big-bone lick, did you say ?-Ay, we used to power of giving him the requisite information.
The parrot has been made to speak of her travels A Parrot 's very fond of salt! I really declare
with “the Captain" through the morasses and cedarI've seen ten thousand of us there altogether,
swamps, and of the trouble she gave him, “when A beautiful sight it was, in fine summer weather,
many a time," says he, (Wilson) “I was tempted to
And in this manner," he goes on to Like a grand velvet carpet, of orange, green, and abandon it.” yellow,
say, “ I carried it upwards of a thousand miles in my Covering the ground! Ah, Captain ! my good fellow, pocket, where it was exposed all day to the jolting I had reason to rue the day you came there with your
of the horse, but regularly liberated at meal-times gun!
and in the evening, at which it always expressed I would laugh if I could, but to me it was no fun- great satisfaction.” The Chickasaw and the Chacheigh-ho!
taw Indians, among whom he was travelling, collectNo fun at all, Captain, heigh-ho!
ed about him whenever he stopped, men, women,
and children, laughing greatly at his novel compaCAPTAIN.
nion. Kelinky was the name the Chickasaws called
the parrot; but hearing the name of Poll, they imNay, Poll, cheer up, you 're better here
mediately adopted it, and through Poll's medium, he Than at the Big-bone lick, my dear!
and the Indians always became very sociable. “On PARROT.
arriving," says Wilson, “at Mr. Dunbar's, below
Natchez. I procured a cage, and placed it under the Captain, how you talk! we Parrots love each other, piazza, where, by its call, it soon attracted the passThere you shot dozens of us.—my father and my mo- ing flocks, such is the attachment they have for each ther,
other. Numerous parties frequently alighted on the I shall not forget it in a hurry,—what wailing and trees immediately above, keeping up a continual concrying.
versation with the prisoner. One of these I woundWhat flying round and round there was! What com- ed slightly in the wing, and the pleasure Poll express. forting the dying !
ed on meeting with this new companion, was really You, yourself, laid down your gun,-overcome by the amusing. She crept close up to it, as it hung on the sight,
side of the cage; chattered to it in a loud tone of And said you would not shoot again, at least that voice, as if sympathusing in its misfortunes; scratched night!
about its head and neck with her bill; and both, at Heigh-ho! I am just ready to cry!
night, nestled as close as possible to each other, someAnd I think I shall cry before I have done! (She times Poll's head being thrust among the plumage of cries like a child.)
the other. On the death of this companion, she ap
peared restless and inconsolable for several days. On reaching New Orleans, I placed a looking-glass inside the place where she usually sat, and the instant she perceived her image, all her former fondness seemed to return, so that she could scarcely absent herself from it for a moment. It was evident that she was completely deceived. Always when evening drew on, and often during the day, she laid her head close to that of the image in the glass, and began to doze with great composure and satisfaction. In a short time she had learned to know her name; to answer and come when called on; to climb up my clothes, sit on my shoulder, and eat from my mouth. I took her with me to sea, determined to persevere in her education." And, to give an ending rather different to Mr. Wilson's, here we have presented her to our readers in the possession of an English lady, and with her education, for a Parrot, very complete.
To the exiled prophet good
POET. Wondrous miracle of love!
RAVEN on the blasted tree,
POET. I know it, bird. And when rain no more was heard Plashing down in torrents wild; When the face of heaven grew mild, And from mountain-summits brown The subsiding noods went down, And the prisoned creatures fain Scented the young earth again; Wherefore when the patriarch forth Sent thee to look round the earth And bring tidings to his door, Cam'st thou to the ark no more?
Doth it thus thy spirit more?
Raven, thou art spirit-cheering;
RAVEN. Narrow was the ark, but wide And fair the earth on every side ; And all around in glens and plains Lay of liso the lorn remains; Man and beast and bird, like seed Scattered on the harvest mead : How could I return to bear Tidings? I was feasting there!
POET. Raven, ha! I thought the same. But in after times ye came,
An cousin Blanche, let's see
Loving, thoughtful, wise, and kind,
Fair white lilies, having birth
Now for madcap Isabel — What shall suit her, pr’ythee tell ! Isabel is brown and wild; Will be evermore a child; Is all laughter, all vagary, Has the spirit of a fairy. Are you grave ? — The gipsy sly Tums on yon her merry eye, And you laugh, despite your will. Isabel is never still, Always doing, never done, Be it mischief, work, or fun. Isabel is short and brown, Soft to touch as eider-down ; Tempered, like the balmy south, With a rosy, laughing mouth; Cheeks just tinged with peachy red, And a graceful Hebe-head; Hair put up in some wild way, Decked with a hedge-rose's spray. Now, where is the bud or bell That may match with Isabel ? Streaky tulip jet and gold, Dearly priced whenever sold; Rich in colour, low and sweet, This for Isabel is meet.
LITTLE STREAMS. LITTLE streams, in light and shadow Flowing through the pasture meadow; Flowing by the green way-side : Through the forest dim and wide: Through the hamlet still and small; By the cottage ; by the hall; By the ruined abbey still; Turning, here and there, a mill; Bearing tribute to the river; Little streams, I love ever! Summer music is there flowing ; Flowering plants in them are growing ; Happy life is in them all, Creatures innocent and small; Little birds come down to drink Fearless on their leafy brink; Noble trees beside them grow, Glooming them with branches low, And between, the sunshine glancing, In their little waves is dancing. Little streams have flowers a many, Beautiful and fair as any; Typha strong, and green bur-reed; Willow-herb with cotton-seed; Arrow-head with eye of jet, And the water-violet ; There the flowering rush you meet, And the plumy meadow-sweet; And in places deep and stilly, Marble-like, the water-lily. Little streams, their voices cheery Sound forth welcomes to the weary, Flowing on from day to day Without stint and without stay. Here, upon their flowery bank, In the old-times Pilgrims drank; Here have seen, as now, pass by Kingfisher and dragon-ly ; Those bright things that have their dwelling Where the little streams are welling. Doun in valleys green and lowly, Murmuring not and gliding slowly ; Up in mountain hollous wild, Fretting like a peevish child; Through the hamlet, where all day In their waves the children play, — Running west, or running easi, Doing good to man and beast, Always giving, weary never, Lilile streams, I love you ever!
Last for Jeanie, grave and mild Jeanie never was a child! Sitting on her mother's knee, Hers was thoughtful infancy ; Growing up so meek and good, Even from her baby hood. All her mother's labour sharing; For the house and children caring; To her bed in silence creeping; Rising early, little sleeping; Learning soon of care and need; Leaming late to write and read; To all hardships reconciled, For she was a poor man's child! What's the lowly flower of earth Match for Jeanie's humble worth?
THE WOLF. THINK of the lamb in the fields of May Cropping the dewy flowers for play ; Think of the sunshine, warm and clear; Of the bending corn in golden ear;
Soon por Jeanie's flower is met,The meek, precious violet!