On the voice of birds.

  • Duncan, Philip Bury, 1772-1863.
Date:
[between 1830 and 1839?]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: On the voice of birds. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by The Royal College of Surgeons of England. The original may be consulted at The Royal College of Surgeons of England.

    51/52 (page 47)
    As sounds the trumpet when its loud alarms Inspire each heart, and wake the soul to arms.— With conscious shame the minstrel blushed to find How weak was all the science of mankind, When plastic Nature could with voice inspire Her meanest child, and emulate the lyre. Fired at this humble thought, “One more,” he cried, “ One trial more the contest shall decide. “ Should I again be forc’d to yield to thee, “ My broken harp shall mourn on yonder tree.” E’en as he speaks each chord beneath his hand Starts to new life, and answers his command ; The golden wires rebound in rushing tide; Th’ awaken’d concert swells on every side, As here and there his artless fingers range, From shrill to deep, th’alternate numbers change, Now fast and clear, now murmuring and slow; Now in short starts, or undivided flow. At length, collecting for the closing strife Each latent power and energy of life, With great and matchless art he sends along One full-toned chorus of commingled song. Then stood expectant once again to hear The rival warbling of his small compeer. But she, poor bird ! (though wearied by display, Her little voice bad lost its loveliest lay,) Reluctant still to yield, recalls in vain Each modulation of her earliest strain ; For whilst her simple throat attempts to swell Above the raptures of the ten-string’d shell, Unable to achieve a task so great, Unable to sustain her vanquish’d fate, A few weak notes she heav’d, her falt’ring breath Grew short and faint beneath the touch of death— She fell upon the harp with gasping sigh, And gave at once her life and victory.