Bird of paradise

“ The bird himself is almost hidden in his own shower-bath, but the emerald throat and the yellow-plush head look out of it and gleam like jewels as he peeps and peers about from side to side to see if any one is looking at him. For, of course, the Great Bird of Paradise does not make himself so very beautiful just for nothing. ”

“ Only, when he actually hears it for the first time, the hearer makes the sad discovery that the bird he has for long years been listening to in fancy—the nightingale heard by the poet with an aching heart, and the wish that he, too, could fade with it into the forest dim—was a nightingale of the brain, a mythical bird, like the footless bird of paradise and the swan with a dying melody. ”

“ That is the difference between life and death. A live Bird of Paradise is hundreds [Pg 53] of times more beautiful than a live blackbird or thrush or swallow or robin-redbreast, but when it is dead it is not so beautiful as they are. Its feathers are more beautiful, still, of course, but where are the waving feathers, the floating plumes, the bright eyes, the quick, graceful movements, and the flight—the glorious flight—of a bird. They are gone, they are gone for ever, and, in their place, there is only stiffness and deadness and dustiness. ”

“ And now, if you were to ask a Bird of Paradise where it was he used to live, and why he had lost his voice and got his feathers scorched, he would not know one bit what you were talking about. In hundreds of thousands of years a great many things are forgotten, and the Birds of Paradise of to-day are quite happy. The earth is quite good enough for them, and if they were not shot and put into hats for the women with the frozen hearts to wear, they would have nothing to complain of. ”

“ You know those lovely plumes that I told you about, that the Great Bird of Paradise has growing from both his sides, under the wings, and how he lifts up his wings and shoots them right up into the air, so that they fall all over him, like two most beautiful fountains that meet in the air and mingle their waters together. ”

“ It is at the rising and setting of the sun that the Bird of Paradise goes to seek its food. In the middle of the day it remains hidden under the ample foliage of the teak-tree, and comes not forth. He seems to dread the scorching heat of the sun, and to be unwilling to expose himself to the attacks of a rival. ”

“ That part of earth where man sinks nearest the level of the beast is the scene of triumph of the bird, where his extraordinary pomp of attire, luxurious and superabundant, has justly won for him the name of bird of paradise. ”

“ Strange birds fly out with a cry, to bathe Their wings in the sunset glory, While the shadows pass O’er the quiet face and the dewy grass.
God pity the bride who waits at home, With her lily cheeks and her violet eyes, Dreaming the sweet old dream of love, While her lover is walking in paradise! God strengthen her heart as the days go by, And the long, drear nights of her vigil follow, Nor bird, nor moon, nor whispering wind, May breathe the tale of the hollow ”

“ Lovely and pure ­ no bird of Paradise, to feed on dew and flower-fragrance, and never to alight on earth, till shot by death with pointless shaft; but a rose, to fix its roots in the genial earth, thence to suck up nutriment and bloom strong and healthy, ­ not to droop and fade amid sunshine and zephyrs on a soilless rock! ”

“ The lovers of the marvellous in the West built upon this weak foundation a most poetic superstructure, and believed that the bird was indeed the denizen of paradise, fed upon the dew of heaven, incapable of contact with earth, building no nest, but hatching its eggs in a cavity upon its own back; ever soaring in the sunlight far above earth, and independent of all mundane association. ”

“ We chase the bird of Paradise, whose nest Was never found amid the bowers of earth.* * According to a belief in the East, which is associated with one of the loveliest and most familiar of Oriental superstitions, the bird of Paradise is never seen to rest upon the earth, and its nest is never to be found. ”

“ nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stooped from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; ”

“ The birds that fled last fall our wintry skies
People again the woods on joyous wing;
At dawn soft rustling pinions waken me,
And swallows darken window-pane and door;
Breathless I listen, gazing wistfully,
Alas, the bird I wait for comes no more.
A high ambition swept my pulses through;
Gazing one day upon the eagle’s flight,
I pierced with him the heaven’s o’erarching blue,
And beat my pinions at the gates of light.
To-day the bird of Jove alone defies
The sun-god’s burning glance, the tempest’s roar;
I watch his flight unmoved, with listless eyes,
The bird I fondly wait for comes no more. ”

“ Why, then, does the youth's heart tremble—what secret sorrow preys upon him?
God's little bird knows neither care nor labour, [Pg 271] Why should it strive to build a lasting nest? The night is long, but a branch suffices for its sleeping place. When the sun comes in his glory, birdie hears the voice of God, flutters his plumage, and sings his song. After spring, Nature's fairest time, comes hot summer. Late autumn follows, bringing mist and cold. Poor men and women are sad and dismal. To distant lands, to warmer climes beyond the blue sea, flies birdie to the spring. ”

“ The waking birds take eager flight
Up through the golden rain of light,
With happy song.
Into my life, that knew no day,
A maiden winged a kindly ray,
And, flying wearily and slow,
Far fled the sombre bird of woe
I harbored long.{96}
My heart no longer pined in night,
The mists that hid hope’s stream took flight,
Life’s hills a sunnier aspect took,
And I found many a pleasant nook
Within life’s grove.
And now my thoughts, like birds, arise,
Singing, towards the golden skies,
Afar from earthly doubt and strife,
Through the pure radiance of her life,
On wings of love. ”

“ The sky, which a moment since was bright as burnished gold, has already changed to a dusky grey, with here and there streaks of purple hue. A solitary bird, truant to its mate, or perhaps a mourner for its loss during the day's excursion, is seen like a wayfarer, with tired flight, wearily labouring to reach the wood ere nightfall. ”

“ I now saw that the birds must be seen alive in their native forests, in order to fully comprehend the poetic beauty of the words Birds of Paradise. They seem the inhabitants of a fairer world than ours, things that have wandered in some way from their home, and found the earth to show us something of the beauty of worlds beyond. ”

“ He not only imagined, but said that he actually saw angels nestling in a tree, and walking among the haymakers in a field.
In these country rambles, we have one of the germs of his peculiar character and genius. Human powers and opportunities act and re-act on each other. The fledgling bird has, enfolded in its bosom, the passion for flight and for song, and realises by foretaste, one might think, as the winds rock its nest, the music of the woods and the rapture of the illimitable air. ”

“ That is because you cannot imagine how beautiful real Birds of Paradise are, for these Birds of Paradise were not more beautiful than the other ones that lived there. All were as beautiful as each other though in different ways, and it was just that which made these Birds of Paradise discontented. “If we go down to earth,” said they, “the birds of all the world will do homage to us on account of our superior beauty, for there will be none to equal us. ”

“ Fierce hawk, croaking raven, ravenous vulture, obscene birds, birds of discord, birds of darkness, birds of tempest, birds of blood and death—these are all typical of the heart’s base passions; these all brood and nestle within, and fly forth to darken, pollute, and destroy. And the Master is not here speaking of some hearts, but of the human heart generally. In the woods we find occasionally a bird with a false note, in the fields a misshapen flower, yet beauty and music are the prevailing characteristics of the landscape ”

“ In the flood of the sunshine, when a thousand birds are about us, we go upon our way with a sense that there is melody around, but singling perhaps [185] no one note to take home to the heart and make a worship of. But the one bird that sings to us in the dim and silent night—oh! none but they on whom the night has fallen can know how dear its song becomes, filling with its music all the deserted mansions of the lonely soul. ”

“ And thus this dream and joy of glorious motion, this elemental spirit of a bird, floats and flickers along, cradled in air, looking like a shadow upon it, sweeping and gliding, rising and falling, in circles of consummate ease. No, this is not dominion, but union and sweet accord. There is no in-spite-of, no proud compelling, here. Lighter than the air that it rides on, the bird seems married to it, clasps it as a bride. ”

“ A sweet picture of innocent happiness does this bird present; he pours out his heart in thrilling song far above the world in the full beams of the bright sun, and then sinks to repose in his humble nest, where the embrace of love welcomes him, and his infant progeny call forth all his fondness and all his joy! ”

“ Before that, she had been as a flower, growing by the universal will, one of those things that are created pure and beautiful and fragrant from the first without thought or merit of their own; and then, as a young bird in the nest, high in air, in a deep forest, in early summer, looking out and wondering, but not knowing yet, its little heart beating fast with only one instinct, to be out and alone on the wing. ”

“ Nature has painted upon our eastern hills a symphony in gray greens, a canvas of artemisia, simple, ample, insistent. And still the people stand before it hesitating—it is so common—is it considered beautiful, pray? Well, at least a bird thinks so, a bird whose whole life has been spent in the sage. ”

“ Like weary sea-birds spent with flight
And faltering,
The slow hours beat across the night
On leaden wing.
The wild bird knows where rest shall be
Soe'er he roam,
Heart of my heart! apart from thee
I have no home. ”

“ Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!"
And the birds below give back the cry,
"We come, we come to the branches high!"
How pleasant the life of the birds must be,
Living above in a leafy tree!
And away through the air what joy to go,
[66] And to look on the green, bright earth below!
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Skimming about on the breezy sea,
Cresting the billows like silvery foam,
Then wheeling away to its cliff-built home! ”

“ By its general grace and beauty, by its sportings and piracies, its speed of flight and the rushing sweeps of its attack, this bird must ever live in the memories of those who have known it: but, most of all, it will live there by the inspiring music of its cry. ”

“ And touched by a spark of the spirit the dust explodes with life, the soil opens, waving the flowers of new spring, and again breathes joyous in the splendor of the day.
VII.
The soul-bird builds her cage herself,—with songs and flapping of her wings,—and enters then its gates all fascinated with the life.
But soon the winged guest, from the infinity, newcomer, striking her prison's trellis-wall, reddens her golden pinions with the ruby blood.
She hushes then in the dusky shadows of her house; a longing eats her heart away for the freedom of the dawn. ”

“ The wings flitting home thro' the crimson glow
That steeps the woods when the sun is low,
The voice of the night-bird that sends a thrill
To the heart of the leaves when the winds are still—
I hear them!—around me they rise, they swell,
They call back my spirit with Hope to dwell,
They come with a breath from the fresh spring-time,
And waken my youth in its hour of prime. ”

“ A light, restless wind has piled snowy, errant clouds above the mountain tops, the little green leaves are uncurling, the sun shining as it shines only in the spring and on an awakened world—and the birds——A lover bird, just the kind to capture a little lady bird’s heart, has been pouring out a passionate mating song for two whole days. ”

“ In the mist of the early night-fall that drips from their hair like rain.
The bird in my heart’s a-flutter, for the bitter wind of the sea
Shivers with thyme and woodbine as my body with memory;
I feel their perfumes ooze in my ears like melody—
The scent of the mead at the harping I shall not hear again.
The bird in my heart’s a-sinking to a hushed vale hid in the sea,
Where the moonlit dew o’er dead fighters is stirred by the feet of the Shee,
Who are lovely and old as the earth but younger than I an be
Who have known the forgetting of dying to a life one lonely pain. ”

“ Angels and genii have always been provided by prophets, romancers, and artists with swanlike wings, springing from behind their shoulders, reckless of comparative anatomy—otherwise how could these “heavier-than-air” beings accomplish their travelling?
I have said that the theory that the disengaged soul departs to heaven in the form of or by aid of a bird is historically very old. ”

“ The moon set, and still in the dark sang the bird, and the grey light came, and the bird ceased; and when it was white day they saw that all the ground and every stalk of bracken was hoary with frost, and every ivy-leaf was crusted white round the edge, but within the edge it was all glossy green.
"What bird is this that sings so sweet before day in the bitter cold?" said the Abbot. "Surely no bird at all, but an Angel from heaven waking us from the death of sleep." ”

“ ’Tis the sole great thing
This side of death,
Heart on heart in the wonder of Spring!’
So the bird saith—
The wise bird saith! ”

“ He worked out of my sight and hers, in the inner part of his garret, but the swallows saw and told me. There are never any secrets between birds and flowers.
We used to live in Paradise together, and we love one another as exiles do; and we hold in our cups the raindrops to slake the thirst of the birds, and the birds in return bring to us from many lands and over many waters tidings of those lost ones who have been torn from us to strike the roots of our race in far-off soils and under distant suns. ”