I sate, my being blended in one thought (Thought was it? or Aspiration? or Resolve?) Absorb'd, yet hanging still upon the sound And when I rose, I found myself in prayer. THE NIGHTINGALE; A CONVERSATION POEM. Written in April 1798. No cloud, no relique of the sunken day And hark! the Nightingale begins its song, * "Most musical, most melancholy" Bird! "Most musical, most melancholy."] This passage in Milton possesses an excellence far superior to that of mere description. It is spoken in the character of the melancholy man, and has therefore a dramatic propriety. The author makes this remark, to rescue himself from the charge of having alluded with levity, to a line in Milton: a charge than which none could be more painful to him, except perhaps that of having ridiculed his Bible. A melancholy Bird? Oh! idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so poor Wretch ! fill'd all things with himself Poet who hath been building up the rhyme When he had better far have stretch'd his limbs By Sun or Moon-light, to the influxes Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself Be lov'd like Nature! But 'twill not be so; Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs My Friend, and thou, our Sister! we have learnt And I know a grove Of large extent, hard by a castle huge, In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, 1 And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, And one, low piping, sounds more sweet than all- That should you close your eyes, you might almost You may perchance behold them on the twigs, Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full, Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade Lights up her love-torch. A most gentle Maid, Who dwelleth in her hospitable home Hard by the castle, and at latest eve (Even like a Lady vow'd and dedicate To something more than Nature in the grove) Glides thro' the pathways; she knows all their notes, That gentle Maid! and oft a moment's space, With one sensation, and these wakeful Birds |