This bird seems to me the lively emblem of the formal hypocrite ; (1.) In that she is more in sound than substance, a loud and excellent voice, but a little despicable body ; and it recalled to my thoughts the story of Plutarch, who hearing a nightingale, desired to have one kill- ed to feed upon, not questioning but she would please the palate as well as the ear : but when the nightingale was brought him, and he saw what a poor little creature it was, Truly, said he, thou art vox et prceterea nihil, — a mere voice, and nothing else ; so is the hypocrite : did a man hear him sometimes in more public duties and discourses, O, thinks he, what an excellent man is this ! what a choice and rare spirit is he of! but follow him home, observe him in. his private con- versation and retirements, and then you will judge Plutarch's note as
applicable to him as the nightingale. (2.) This bird is observ^ed to
THE HEAVENLY USE OF ExUlTHLY THINGS. 183
chann most sweetly, and set her spirits all on work, when she per- ceives she hath engaged atttention ; so doth the hypocrite, who hves and feeds upon the applause and commendation of his admirers, and cares little for any of those duties which bring in no returns of praise from men : he is little pleased with a silent melody and pri- vate pleasure betwixt God and his own soul.
SciJ-e tuum nihil est nisi te scij-e hoc sciat alter.
Alas ! his knowledge is not worth a pin, If he proclaims not what he hath within. He is more for the theatre than the closet ; and of such Christ saith, " Verily they have their reward." (3.) Naturalists observe the nigh- tingale to be an ambitious bird that cannot endure to be outvied by any : she will rather chuse to die than be excelled ; a notable in- stance whereof we have in the following pleasant poem, translated out of Starda, concerning the nightingale and a lutanist.
Now the declinino; sun did downward bend From higher heavens, and from his looks did send A milder flame, when near to Tyber's flow, A lutanist allay'd his careful woe With soltmding charms ; and in a greeny seat. Of shady oak, took shelter from the heat ; A nightingale overheard him, that did use To sojourn in the neighbour groves, the muse That fiird the place, the syren of the wood (Poor harmless syren !) stealing near, she stood Close lurking in the leaves attentively Recording that unwonted melody : She conn'd it to herself; and evVy strain His fingers play'd her throat returned again, The lutanist perceived an answer sent From th' imitating bird, and was content To shew her play more fully : then in haste He tries his lute, and giving her a taste Of the ensuing quarrel, nimbly beats On all his strings : as nimbly she repeats ; And wildly raging o''er a thousand keys, Sounds a shrill warning of her after-lays : With rolling hand the lutanist then plies The trembling threads, sometimes in scornful wise He brushes down the strings, and strikes them all With one even stroke, then takes them several, And culls them o'er again ; his sparkling joints With busy discant mincing on the points. Reach back again with nimble touch, then stays : The bird rephes, and art with art repays.
184 HUSBAXDllY SPIRITUALIZED ; OK,
Sometimes as one unexpert, and in doubt. How she might weild her voice, she draweth out Her tone at large, and doth at first prepare A solemn strain, nor wear'd with winding air. But with an equal pitch, and constant throat, Makes clear the passage for her gliding note ; Then cross division diversly she plays. And loudly chanting out her quickest lays, Poises the sound, and, with a quivering voice, Falls back again. He wondering how so choice. So various harmony could issue out From such a little throat, doth go about Some harder lessons, and with wondVous art, Changing the strings, doth up the treble dart, And downward smite the base, with painful stroke He beats ; and as the trumpet doth provoke Sluggaixls to fight, ev'n so his wanton skill With mingled discord joins the hoarse and shrill. The bird this also tunes : and whilst she cuts Sharp notes with melting voice, and mingled puts Measures of middle sound, then suddenly ♦ She thunders deep, and jugs it inwardly With gentle murmur, clear and dull she sings By course, as when the martial warning rings. Believ't the minstrel blusht, with angry mood : Inflam'd (quoth he) thou chantress of the wood. Either from thee I'll bear the prize away. Or vanquished break my lute without delay. Inimitable accents then he strains. His hands flies on the strings ; in one he chains Far different numbers, chasing here and there. And all the strings he labours every where ? Both flat and sharp he strikes, and stately grows To prouder strains, and backward as he goes Doubly divides, and closing up his lays Like a full choir, a shiv'ring consort plays : Then pausing, stood in expectation Of his co-rival, nor durst answer on. But she, when practice long her throat had whet, Enduring not to yield, at once doth set Her spirits all to work, and all in vain ; For whilst she labours to express again, With nature's simple voice, such divers keys. With slender pipes such lofty notes as these. O'ermatch'd with high designs, ov'ermatch'd with woe ; Just at the last encounter of her foe,
THE HEAVENLY USE OF EARTHLY THINGS. ]85
She faints, she dies, falls on his instrument That conquerVl her ! a fitting monument, How far ev'n little souls are driven on, Struck with a virtuous emulation.
And even as far are hypocrites driven on by their ambition and pride, which is the spur that provokes them in their religious duties.
Upon the Sight of many small Birds chirping about a dead Hawlc.
jHeARING a whole choir of birds chirping and twinkling toge- ther, it engaged my curiosity a little to enquire into the occasion of that convocation, which mine eye quickly informed me of; fori per- ceived a dead hawk in the bush, about which they made such a noise, seeming to triumph at the death of their enemy ; and I could not blame them to sing his knell, who, like a Cannibal, w-as wont to feed upon their living bodies, tearing them limb from limb, and scaring them with his frightful appearance. This bird, which living was so formidable, being dead, the poorest wren or titmouse fears not to chirp, or hop over. This brings to my thoughts the base and igno- ble ends of the greatest tyrants, and greedy ingrossers of the world, of whom, (whilst living) men were more afraid, than birds of a hawk, but dead, became objects of contempt and scorn. The death of such tyrants is both inglorious and unlamented : " When the wicked *' perish, there is shouting," Prov. xi. 10. Which was exemplified to the life, at the death of Nero, of whom the poet thus sings ;
Cum mors crudelem rapuisset sasva Neronem^ Credibile est multos Romaon agitasse jocos.
When cruel Nero dy'd th' historian tells.
How Rome did mourn with bonfires, plays, and bells.