Their eyries inaccessible, and train'd
Their hardy broods to forage in all weathers;
Others, more gorgeously apparell'd, dwelt
Among the woods, on Nature's dainties feeding,
Herbs, seeds, and roots; or, ever on the wing,
Pursuing insects through the boundless air:
In hollow trees or thickets these conceal'd
Their exquisitely woven nests; where lay
Their callow offspring, quiet as the down
On their own breasts, till from her search the dam
With laden bill return'd, and shared the meal
Among the clamorous suppliants, all agape;
Then, cowering o'er them with expanded wings,
She felt how sweet it is to be a mother.
Of these, a few, with melody untaught,
Turn'd all the air to music within hearing,
Themselves unseen; while bolder quiristers
On loftier branches strain'd their clarion-pipes,
And made the forest echo to their screams
Discordant,--yet there was no discord there,
But temper'd harmony: all tones combining,
In the rich confluence often thousand tongues,
To tell of joy and to inspire it. Who
Could hear such concert, and not join in chorus?
Not I;--sometimes entranced, I seem'd to float
Upon a buoyant sea of sounds: again
With curious ear I tried to disentangle
The maze of voices, and with eye as nice
To single out each minstrel, and pursue
His little song through all its labyrinth,