51�Թ�

There also are many birds, throstle, thrush and nightingale, goldfinch and woodlark, which sing merrily day and night.

The throstles sang in the elm-trees as though glad to be alive, and in the uplands the young lambs sported in the sunshine.

The crowd would press and jostle To hear their favourite warbler, from whose throat, Clear as the lark, and mellow as the throstle, The limpid melody would soar and float.

And as they rode along, Lady mine, The throstle gave them song, And the buds peeped through the grass To see youth and beauty pass, Lady mine.

All in vain; the great bird of prey bore down upon him like a hawk upon a throstle, gaining, gaining every moment.