And from thy ever-varying measure,
Snatch the purest sweets of pleasure,

In strains that bid grief's wilder tumults cease,
That warm to piety, and soothe to peace!

What delightful emotions are produced in our souls by the ineffable sounds which issue from the forests, the meadows, and the valleys.

The feathered songsters are found in every hahitable part of the globe; and it is remarkable, that wherever man erects a hut for his dwelling, the neighbouring songsters of the groves come and settle around it :-

Birds of sweetest song

Attune from native boughs their various lay,
And cheer the forest; those of brighter plume
With busy pinion skim the glitt'ring wave,
Or tempt the sun, ambitious to display
Their several merit.

SHENSTONE.

Birds in a wild state do not commonly sing above ten weeks in the year, and it is the male birds alone which sing. Buffon, and some other naturalists, ascribe their singing to a desire of pleasing their mates during the period of incubation; but, however agreeable to the fancy this theory may be, it cannot be reconciled with many known facts. No reason can be suggested why such an instinct, if it exists, should not be common to the whole feathered tribe, and yet by far the greater part of birds do not sing at all. Neither among those who sing, is the exercise of their vocal powers confined to periods of joy alone. To the human mind it seems as if few things were more calculated to silence the voice of song than the loss of liberty; yet the most vocal of birds appear to be little affected by it. An experienced catcher of nightingales has affirmed, that these birds, the instant they are caught, begin to jerk; and he shewed one which had only been a few hours in a cage, and was yet in a full roar of song. Nor has even the prospect of death itself the power to subdue this vocal propensity. A bird which was on the point of perishing by a fire in the house where it was caged, sung till it

was rescued; and another, which was unhappily starved to death, burst into an ecstasy of song just before it expired. The continuance of the singing power in birds, when confined in a cage, is still more conclusive against the supposition of its arising from attention to their mates. It can be no inducement of this sort which makes them sing nearly the whole year round, even during the inclemency of winter. It is ascribed, with great appearance of truth, to their sense of pleasure, arising from always having plenty of food, and to the emulation inspired by the warblings of other birds confined in the same house, or stationed within hearing. Many very interesting facts might be adduced in proof of the real musical excellence which belongs to some birds; but the following observations of Mr. Daines Barrington, on the singing of the nightingale, will place the matter beyond doubt:

"I have a nightingale, which, when it sings its whole song round, displays sixteen different beginnings and closes, while the intermediate notes are commonly altered in their succession with such judgment as to produce a most pleasing variety. It is not, however, in tone and variety alone that the nightingale excels; it sings (if I may so express myself) with superior judgment and taste. I have commonly observed that my nightingale began softly, like the ancient orators, reserving its breath to swell certain notes, which by this means had a most astonishing effect, and which exceed all verbal description. I have indeed taken down certain passages, which may be reduced to our musical intervals; but though, by these means, one may form an idea of some of the notes used, yet it is impossible to give their comparative durations in point of musical time, upon which the whole effect must depend. I once procured a very capital player on the flute to execute the notes which Kircher has engraved in his Musurgia, as being used by the nightingale, when, for want of not being able to settle their comparative duration, it was almost impossible to observe any traces of the nightingale's song. The last point of superiority in this bird is, the length to which it can prolong its notes. I have observed this bird to continue its song for not less than twenty minutes at a time, and whenever respiration became necessary, it was taken with as much judgment as by an opera singer.'

"

Almost all travellers agree that the harmony of the

groves of Europe is superior to that of the other parts of the globe. Thompson the poet, in noticing this superiority of the European birds, regards it as a compensation for their great inferiority in point of gaudy plumage. The canary forms no exception to this remark. Few persons are perhaps aware that these sing either the titlark or nightingale notes; their plumage is of a foreign clime, but their music is altogether European. When imported directly from the Canary Islands, they have seldom any song at all; nor until they have the advantage of a Tyrolese education, have they the least chance of becoming singers. It may, however, be interesting to mention, that the breed is not now kept up by importation. Most of the canaries which are brought hither from the continent, have been educated by parents, the progenitors of which were instructed by nightingales. There is a place for breeding them at Inspruck, whence they are sent to every part of the continent; and the Tyrolese, who carry them on their backs a thousand miles, as well as pay a heavy duty upon them, still make a handsome profit by selling them at five shillings each.

Greaves's Invitation to the feathered race is so appropriate to the subject, that I shall make no apology for introducing it in this place:

Again the balmy zephyr blows,
Fresh verdure decks the grove;
Each bird with vernal rapture glows,
And tunes his notes to love.

Ye gentle warblers! hither fly,
And shun the noon-tide heat:
My shrubs a cooling shade supply;
My groves, a safe retreat.

Here freely hop from spray to spray,
Or weave the mossy nest:

Here rove and sing the livelong day;

At night, here sweetly rest.

Amid this cool translucent rill,

That trickles down the glade,

Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill,
And revel in the shade.

No school-boy rude, to mischief
E'er shews his ruddy face,

prone,

Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone,
In this sequester'd place.

Hither the vocal thrush repairs;
Secure the linnet sings;

The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares,
To clog her painted wings.

Sad Philomel! ah, quit thy haunt
Yon distant woods among,
And round my friendly grotto chaunt
Thy sweetly plaintive song.

Let not the harmless redbreast fear,
Domestic bird, to come,
And seek a sure asylum here,
With one that loves his home.

My trees for you, ye artless tribe,
Shall store of fruit preserve:
Oh! let me thus your friendship bribe;
Come, feed without reserve.

For you, these cherries I protect;
To you, these plums belong :

Sweet is the fruit that you have peck'd;
But sweeter far your song.

Let, then, this league betwixt us made
Our mutual interests guard:
Mine be the gift of fruit and shade;
Your songs be my reward.

Both philosophers and physicians have prescribed Music as a powerful means of alleviating the sorrows and cares of human life. Music revives the languishing soul, affects not only the ears, but the very arteries, awakens the dormant powers, raises the animal spirits, and renders the most dull, and severe, and sorrowful mind, elate and lively.

"

Although the effects attributed to Music, in the relief and care of various maladies, are so marvellous as to excite very just suspicion of their truth, many of them are too well authenticated to be denied. Martinus Capella assures us that fevers were removed by song; and that Asclepiades cured deafness by the sound of the trumpet. Plutarch says, that Thelates, the Cretan, delivered the Lacedemonians from the pestilence by the sweetness of his lyre. Cicero notices the astonishing power of Music; and Plato supposes that the

effect of harmony on the mind is equal to that of air on the body. The Phrygian pipe is recommended by many of the ancient fathers as an antidote to sciatica. Modern times also furnish numerous instances of the effects of Music on diseases. M. Dodat, in the History of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris for 1707, gives a remarkable case of a musician, who, in the course of ten days, was cured of a raging fever, and a lamentable species of delirium, by Music, which he would have almost continually in his chamber. In a work recently published in Germany, many cases of severe hemorrhage are cited as being cured by the application of Music. Dr. Bianchini says, in many cases of acute and chronical diseases, it has been used with great effect; and Dr. Cox relates a case in which great benefit was obtained in the cure of a soldier by the music of a fife. Picus Mirandola observes, in explanation of its being used medicinally, that Music moves the spirits to act upon the soul and the body. Monsieur de Maican, in his History of the Academy of Sciences, says, that it is from the mechanical involuntary connection between the organs of hearing, and the consonances excited in the outward air, joined to the rapid communication of the vibrations of these organs to the whole nervous system, that we owe the cure of spasmodic disorders, and of fevers attended with deliriums and convulsions. Dr. Leake says, that Music produces its salutary effects by exciting a peculiar sensation on the nerves of the ear, which communicate with the brain and general nervous system.

The effect of Music upon the human soul is wonderful; Athenæus calls it a matchless and inexhaustible treasure; and Cassiodorus says, it will not only expel the severest grief, soften the most violent hatred, mitigate the sharpest spleen, but extenuate fear and fury, appease cruelty, abate heaviness, and bring the mind to quietude and rest. The harps of Orpheus, Amphion, and Arion, charmed all nature with their powers; even

Things inanimate have mov'd,

And, as with living souls, have been inform'd
By magic numbers and persuasive sounds.

Music, divine Music, has the power of dispelling most diseases of the mind, and is a sovereign remedy against despair and melancholy. Evil spirits fly before it. Canus, a musician at Rhodes, when Apollonius inquired what he could effect by means of his