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# The Zoologist/4th series, vol 1 (1897)/Issue 674/The Autumn Song of Birds

Published in: The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 1, issues 674 (August, 1897), p. 358–359
THE AUTUMN SONG OF BIRDS.
By Charles A. Witchell.
In a paper on "The Evolution of Bird-Song" which appeared in 'The Zoologist,' 1890, p. 233, and attracted some criticism, I stated that "in autumn the young male Sky Larks, Thrushes, and Blackbirds begin to sing," and Mr. Aplin supports this statement (Zool. 1894, p. 411), saying that on account of the quality of the autumn songs it seems likely that they are produced by young birds of the year. He had never heard a Blackbird sing the autumn song; nor have I; but I have heard the young Blackbird practising a soft-warbled strain in October, in the manner of a young Thrush.
Mr. Aplin classes the Robin and Starling with the Thrush and Hedgesparrow, as commencing to sing in November, or even in October (Zool. 1894, p. 410); but the two former birds begin their autumn song (if such it be) in August (see Zool. 1890, p. 242, also 'Evolution of Bird-Song' [1896], p. 65), or earlier. I have often observed the Robin recommencing its song during the first week in August; and this year, in Kent, numbers began before the middle of July. The Starling I have observed year by year to recommence in the first week in August.
Mr. Aplin found the Willow Wren silent soon after the middle of June (Zool. 1894, p. 411); and so have I for a week or two; but I have heard numbers in song early in July (in Gloucestershire and in Kent), and this year and last dozens could be heard every morning. I have often seen a Willow Wren sing when in heavy moult. This bird is the most persistent singer of all our summer visitors, not ceasing till the middle of August. The Blackcap I have once heard in September.
I can find no distinction between the spring and autumn songs of these birds, except that the Robin makes great use of ​the call-note (and even of the distress-note) in its morning songs in August (and see "Bird-Songs in Summer," in 'Knowledge,' July, 1897), and that the Starling at the same period rarely utters its love-call in song ('Evolution of Bird-Song,' p. 53). The Robin's song is often employed before combat (op. cit. p. 38).
If an autumn singer makes much use of its call-note, we may infer that the song has an exotic origin, but when the call is not used (as in the Starling) it is difficult to see why we should not credit the singer with a sense of pleasure in his surroundings expressed in song; and this is the more reasonable since so many birds have a strong local attachment.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Zoologist/4th series, vol 1 (1897)/Issue 675

Contents :
| | | PAGE |
| Murie, James | Our Economic Sea Fishes | 389 |
| Whitlock, F.B. | The Breeding Habits of the Purple Heron | 407 |
| Aplin, O.V. | The Autumn Song of Birds | 410 |
| Grabham, Oxley | Taxidermy—De Omnibus Rebus | 412 |
| Mathew, Murray A. | Garden Lists of Birds | 417 |
| | Notes and Queries | 424 |
| | Editorial Gleanings | 434 |
# To lose one's faith—surpass

To lose one's faith — surpass The loss of an Estate — Because Estates can be Replenished — faith cannot —
Inherited with Life — Belief — but once — can be — Annihilate a single clause — And Being's — Beggary —
# To lose thee—sweeter than to gain

To lose thee — sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. 'Tis true the drought is destitute, But then, I had the dew!
The Caspian has its realms of sand, Its other realm of sea. Without the sterile perquisite, No Caspian could be.
# To help our Bleaker Parts

To help our Bleaker Parts Salubrious Hours are given Which if they do not fit for Earth Drill silently for Heaven —
# To his simplicity

To his simplicity To die — was little Fate — If Duty live — contented But her Confederate.
# To know just how He suffered—would be dear—

* "To know just how he suffered" in Poems (1890)
* "To know just how he suffered would be dear" in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924)
# To hear an Oriole sing

* "The Oriole's Secret" in Poems: Second Series (1891)
* "To hear an oriole sing" in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924)
# To improve consideration by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission of the costs and benefits of its regulations and orders. (H.R. 1003; 113th Congress)

* related portals: United States Congress.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
H.R. 1003 as introduced
113th CONGRESS
1st Session
H. R. 1003
IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
March 6, 2013
Mr. Conaway (for himself, Mr. David Scott of Georgia, Mr. Jordan, Mr. McHenry, and Mr. Garrett) introduced the following bill; which was referred to the Committee on Agriculture
A BILL
To improve consideration by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission of the costs and benefits of its regulations and orders.

# Section 1. Consideration by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission of the costs and benefits of its regulations and orders

Section 15(a) of the Commodity Exchange Act (7 U.S.C. 19(a)) is amended by striking paragraphs (1) and (2) and inserting the following:

   ## (1) In general–

   Before promulgating a regulation under this Act or issuing an order (except as provided in paragraph (3)), the Commission, through the Office of the Chief Economist, shall assess the costs and benefits, both qualitative and quantitative, of the intended regulation and propose or adopt a regulation only on a reasoned determination that the benefits of the intended regulation justify the costs of the intended regulation (recognizing that some benefits and costs are difficult to quantify). It must measure, and seek to improve, the actual results of regulatory requirements.

   ## (2) Considerations–

   In making a reasoned determination of the costs and the benefits, the Commission shall evaluate—
       (A) considerations of protection of market participants and the public;
       (B) considerations of the efficiency, competitiveness, and financial integrity of futures and swaps markets;
       (C) considerations of the impact on market liquidity in the futures and swaps markets;
       (D) considerations of price discovery;
       (E) considerations of sound risk management practices;
       (F) available alternatives to direct regulation;
       (G) the degree and nature of the risks posed by various activities within the scope of its jurisdiction;
       (H) whether, consistent with obtaining regulatory objectives, the regulation is tailored to impose the least burden on society, including market participants, individuals, businesses of differing sizes, and other entities (including small communities and governmental entities), taking into account, to the extent practicable, the cumulative costs of regulations;
       (I) whether the regulation is inconsistent, incompatible, or duplicative of other Federal regulations;
       (J) whether, in choosing among alternative regulatory approaches, those approaches maximize net benefits (including potential economic, environmental, and other benefits, distributive impacts, and equity); and
       (K) other public interest considerations..
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# To love thee Year by Year—

To love thee Year by Year — May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease — However, dear, Forever might be short, I thought to show — And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.
# To his Attendant

* To his Attendant, in Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans, 1836.
* To his Attendant, in Poems of Felicia Hemans, Blackwood, 1872.
# To learn the Transport by the Pain

* "To learn to transport by the pain" in Poems: Second Series (1891)
* "To learn the transport by the pain" in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924)
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Spirit

THE SPIRIT.
On Sunday—sacred holiday! As late at eve I stayed to pray (By the bright lamps that light that shrine) To God, and to his orders nine, In yonder church, that to my eyes Appears a second Paradise— A sudden tremor shook the ground! Towards the deep and awful sound, Thus questioning, I turned me round: “By Him who in the sacred host Is present—and the Holy Ghost! Thou that thus lurkest in the gloom— Thus low upon the pavement here, Beneath the corner of the tomb! Whose rugged murmurings I hear, Livest thou—thing of mournful song? Or dost thou to the dead belong? If, flick’ring shape! thou livest still, Thou art in melancholy plight.” With thoughtful face, and accents shrill, Thus answered the departed sprite: “Unholy man, with joyous air! I cannot profit by thy care! In this sad form I dwell in cold, And quake with anguish!—though of old Buoyant with youth, and proud and bold, I roamed and carolled every where—
Found praise and honour at command, Like thee—the darling of the land! I once had lovely auburn hair, Like woodbine curled in tresses fair, And eyes with lustre pure and bright, Gifted with keen and searching sight— A tongue with matchless stanzas gay, And glory in the time of May; The brilliant summer hours I spent With maidens, mead, and merriment! An end at last came to my pride, With all my hopes and vaunts—I died! And, like a stranger, from my head In deaf dumb earth my hair I’ve shed: My flesh is mingled with the mould, And here, proud bard, thou dost behold A sermon to the cot and hall— I am a sermon now to all! They who possess me well may preach! For who my origin can teach? And who can tell my name or race? I have no longer nose or face! Or voice—I am for ever dumb! Or eyes—my eyes are holes become! Or jaws—ah! skull so blank and damp, Thou mouldy, foul, obstructive lamp!
Remember when, amid the stones, Thou see’st my bare and fleshless bones, Thou too must the long journey take, That all of mortal birth must make! Thou too must blacken in the sod, And in that hour—oh! may thy God In mercy raise thy soul to heaven— The God whose grace is freely given Unto the dead on this blessed day— The dead—attired in pale array!”
* ↑ These lines are evidently a description of the bard himself; the ‘spirit’ is in fact nothing else than the poet’s melancholy picture of his own approaching fate.
* ↑   ‘Thou mouldy, foul, obstructive lamp!’ There is a singular resemblance between this line and the celebrated expression of Shakspeare: ‘To lie in cold obstruction and to rot.’
* ↑   ‘On this blessed day.’ The bard, at the beginning of the poem, says that this incident occurred on Sunday.
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Moon

THE MOON.
THE MOON HIS LOVE ENVOY, OR GUIDE TO MORVYTH.
Ah, woe is me! I long to roam Far as the foam-hued lady’s home; But how, alas! can I command A guide to that far distant land?
I am too poor—I cannot pay A youthful guide for that long way. A withered beldame’s footsteps slow, Cold-blooded wretch! I will not hire, Nor journey with a lamp of fire At night, or waxen flambeau’s glow. I love not thus at night to stray, And sleep at home the livelong day; How can the beauty recognize Her bard, when darkness veils the skies! To me the candles will be giv’n Of him who rules above in heav’n, To guide me safely through the night— My path to Morvyth’s home to light! Praise to the great Creator’s name, Who made that sparkling orb of flame, Nought has he dress’d in lovelier rays Than that round star so small and clear. Candle of God, whose golden blaze Illumes the land to me most dear, From me nor treachery nor time Can snatch thy guardian light sublime! Nor autumn’s blast at random driv’n, Blessed “wafer” lifted up in heav’n!
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Snow Image

THE SNOW IMAGE.
The bard, in going on a visit to Morvyth, tumbles over an image of snow.
Woe to the bard who feels the hate So oft—of unpropitious fate! Last night as from the inn I came To her who wears the clear moon’s flame, In thought exulting—and beguiled By spirits boisterous and wild— O’er savage hills I took my way, Amid the wintry tempest’s fray; The snow came pelting fierce and fast, Hurled in thick vollies by the blast; Drifts lined the mountains and the rocks— And every bower had frosty locks! The blinded bard, amid those bowers, Laughed not, I ween—as in Spring’s hours! As vexed and goaded on by fear, I hurried thus in full career, I marked not that the landscape’s hue At every step still whiter grew!
I marked not from afar the site Where lurked that most unhallowed wight, Taught by the pangs, with which I groan, Since then the wretch too well I’ve known, By his base treach’ry tripp’d and thrown! By his unwieldy form of snow Roughly arrested in my track, Onward, like arrow from a bow, I sprung—then fell, and broke my back! Detested form! that—like the trunk Of aged tree—the bard o’erthrew; How like thou art in form and hue To an old miser—or a monk, A miser, and his bags of gold! Woe to the miscreant who rolled Thy figure from the snow, to be A fence for “Hunchback” against me; A fence to Hunchback, caitiff rude, A plague to all the neighbourhood! Thou loaf-shaped heap—thou rustic fort, To break my legs—ill mannered sport! Meal-coloured castle—snow-white pump, Reared (where none need thee) on the hill; Thou frigid post—thou frosty stump, Ah, thou hast wrought me grievous ill! And wrung with thy untimely blows Blood from my feet and from my nose!
Thou rugged heap, thou cumbrous mass, That wilt not let a stranger pass; Like a bear’s skull—may the sun’s light Melt and disperse thy wintry height, And break thy snowy forts—and may The gallows tree the wretch repay, The man of infamy and guilt, Who thy untoward turrets built! Ah, fatal haste! that made me break My nose for beauteous Morvyth’s sake!
* ↑ Tafarn Gwin, ‘the tavern of wine.’
* ↑ ‘How like thou art in form and hue To an old miser—or a monk.’ This is one of the poet’s sneers at the religious orders of his time. In another poem, addressed to the Owl, he compares that bird to ‘an old abbess.’
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Snow

THE SNOW.
To-day I may not quit my home; For maiden’s love or maiden’s plight I dare not o’er my threshold roam; For field and flood and vale and height Are chained with frost, with snows are white! Close as the scales on dragon’s breast, Those flakes would cluster round my vest; And in a miller’s lowly guise, Conceal the bard from beauty’s eyes! Brightly to all created things The lime-white vest of winter clings; Fair as a grey stoled hermit’s robe It wraps this dark and dreary globe! O’er every wood, o’er every grove, Its veil of dazzling light is wove; Spotless and glittering as mail, Those snowy showers at random sail; Not April’s choicest flowers outvie Those chilly blossoms of the sky. Those show’rs of foam intensely driven, In fleecy clouds from earth to heaven! They seem mid Gwyneth’s stormy skies, Like the white bees of Paradise!
And hill and glen, and rock and height, Are one wild maze of beauteous blight! What soul their native home can guess, What band those silv’ry floods restrain, Vanescent, beauteous, numberless, Like the blue pavement of the main!
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Mist

THE MIST.
At dawn, as to my love I sped, A treacherous fog my steps misled; Long through its labyrinths I strayed, Then thus reviled the child of shade:—
Hence with thy yellow misty bower! Oh, vanish for one single hour, Thou cassock! wove by wizard spell— Smoke of the goblin forge of hell— Spread like the spider’s filmy roof, Veil of the skies, the tempest’s woof. The pathless snow is in thy breast— In thee secure the felons rest. On wings obscure, with frosty wreath, Thou spread’st the brittle boughs of heath; And as thou float’st, the fairy tribe Make thy long flaggy skirts their gibe! Fleece of the rock—cowl of the heav’n, Thou banish’d wave from ocean driv’n; Cloud of the crooked mountain tow’r, Canst thou not burst one single hour? The swarth excretion of the night Veil’d path and heath, and mountain height, With many a dark and mantling wave, Till heav’n was rayless as a cave. Hung o’er the rocks a scowling tent, It wrapp’d heav’n’s dawning battlement: The woods, the hills, the shore, the sea, The birchen shrubs, were lost to me. In endless viewless swamps I fell, In every dank and dwarfish dell; A hundred wry-mouthed goblins cast Mad laughter on me—as I past An oath of hearty wrath I swore, Yon mist should never lead me more, The jest of fiends, through brier and brake, E’en for my matchless Morvyth’s sake.
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Owl

THE OWL
DISTURBS THE BARD’S SLEEP.
Wretched owlet! worthless bird! Always are her accents heard; She must ever wail and cry— While the stars are in the sky! I can never rest or sleep For the noise she loves to keep! With the bat she lives together, In the rainy—snowy weather! Every day my ear she tears With her shrieks and hideous airs— Every night all slumber flies (At her wild salute) my eyes; I am vexed, the long night through, With her vile “to-hoo to-hoo!” I believe that with these yells, She the dogs of night impels! Filthy and untoward fowl, With fat head, and hideous howl, Forehead broad, and ruddy breast— Foe of mice, with mouse-hued vest! Worthless thing with formal port, Dingy hue, and leafy court; With demure and solemn face— Goblin of the feathered race!
Her each bird a buffet gives— It is strange that still she lives! More she utters on the hill, Than the nightingale—at night; But in hollow tree, she still Guards her head—in the day-light! Bird of Gwyn ap Neath! too long, Her unseemly form I’ve known; Dolt of darkness! whose harsh song By the thieves is deemed their own; How I hate her luckless tone! Never shall I want a lay, Though her voice were far away. Firebrands, till the frost is past, In each ivy-bush I’ll cast!
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Swan

THE SWAN.
The bard asks the swan of Llyn Syvaddon (Anglice, Brecknock Mere), a lake near Brecon, to be his love envoy.
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like abbot white! Bird of the spray, to whom is giv’n The raiment of the men of heav’n; Bird of broad hand, in youth’s proud age, Syvaddon was thy heritage! Two gifts in thee, fair bird, unite To glean the fish in yonder lake, And bending o’er yon hills thy flight A glance at earth and sea to take! Oh! ’tis a noble task to ride The billows countless as the snow; Thy long fair neck (thou thing of pride!) Thy hook to catch the fish below; Thou guardian of the fountain head, By which Syvaddon’s waves are fed! Above the dingle’s rugged streams, Intensely white thy raiment gleams; Thy shirt like crystal tissue seems; Thy doublet, and thy waistcoat bright, Like thousand lilies meet the sight;
Thy jacket is of the white rose, Thy gown the woodbine’s flow’rs compose; Thou glory of the birds of air, Thou bird of heav’n, oh, hear my pray’r! And visit in her dwelling place The lady of illustrious race: Haste on an embassy to her, My kind white-bosomed messenger— Upon the waves thy course begin, And then at Cemaes take to shore; And there through all the land explore, For the bright maid of Tal y llyn, The lady fair as the moon’s flame, And call her “Paragon” by name; The chamber of the beauty seek, And mount with footsteps slow and meek; Salute her, and to her reveal The cares and agonies I feel— And in return bring to my ear Message of hope, my heart to cheer! Oh, may no danger hover near (Bird of majestic head) thy flight! Thy service I will well requite!
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Peat Pool

THE PEAT POOL.
The bard, on returning from a visit to Morvyth, falls into a pool amongst the peat bogs.
Woe to the bard who, far astray, Moans o’er his errors with dismay! Dark is the night upon the shore— All dark upon the mountain moor— All—all is darkness far and near— (Oh, madness, thou hast brought me here!) Dark is the treacherous earth to-night, And dark the young moon’s orb of light! Oh that the maid of glorious hue, The gloom of this black midnight knew; And that the bard who sings her praise, In the keen blasts of darkness strays! Oh, luckless hour! Oh, wayward thought! That to this pass his footsteps brought, And far from home, on hostile ground, Him and his dappled steed have bound; And worst of all, that such a fate, Him journeying homeward should await, With lady’s tenderness elate! It was a grievous fate, indeed, That plunged the poet and his steed
Into this gulf upon the heath, This fishing-pond of Gwyn ap Neath; Abyss that glen and mead divides— This palace of the elfin race— “Lake vinegar,” with bay-hued tides,— The foul swine’s fav’rite bathing place! I spoiled with mud my stockings there, y “kersey” stockings brought from Caer. Oh, sad disgrace! Oh, shame decreed! In this dark swamp to bard and steed! Cold breezes pinch him for his pains, Who dug this pond in sunlight clear; If e’er firm land the bard regains, He’ll never send his blessing here!
* ↑ ‘Gwyn ap Neath,’ the Faery King.
* ↑ ‘Caer,’ applied to many places in Wales, as Caernarvon, Caermarthen; also, and most properly, to Chester.
* ↑ The pond into which the poet fell was an accumulation of water in one of the hollows from which peat had been dug during the season of the year usually employed for that purpose.
# Translations into English Verse from the Poems of Davyth ap Gwilym/The Poet's Petition

THE POET’S PETITION
TO THE WAVE THAT PREVENTED HIM CROSSING THE RIVER DOVEY TO VISIT MORVYTH.
Hoarse wave, with crest of curling foam, Back to thy native ocean roam; And leave the fords of Dovey free, That Morvyth separate from me! No bard before hath loved to tell Thy glassy tower—thy lordly swell— Thou branch of ocean’s mighty stem— Thou sailor’s friend—thou briny gem! The storm—the rush of hostile ranks, Jamm’d ’twixt the close and cleftless banks— The war-steed’s sinewy chest of might— Are faint to thee, thou billowy height! No organ, harp, no vocal tone, Are like thy vast and fearful moan. To her no other pledge I’ll give, The snow-white maid for whom I live, Than call her beauty like the light, And as thy circling waters bright! Thou bright round billow, let me pass Beyond thy ring of azure glass; For long my love, awaiting me, Stands by Lanbadarn’s birchen tree. Of sunken rocks, thou mantle hoar, Chafed on the wild and rugged shore—
Friend of the sea—knight of the spray— Oh, did’st thou know, for this delay, What penalty the bard must pay, Thou would’st not raise thy gloomy face Between him and the trysting-place! What though for Indeg’s charms sublime, My limbs thy dreadful heights must climb;— Though death were in thy eddies stern;— Death and thy hate I’ll rather spurn, Than back from Morvyth’s shore return!
[The foregoing and a few other poems in this volume have previously appeared in the “Cambrian Quarterly Magazine.”]
# Treaty between the United Kingdom and Siam (1909)/annexed map

NEW BOUNDARY
BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN AND SIAM
AS LAID DOWN IN THE BOUNDARY PROTOCOL
ANNEXED TO THE TREATY OF
March 10, 1909.
# Treaty between the United Kingdom and Siam (1909)/front matter

TREATY SERIES. No. 19.
1909.
TREATY
BETWEEN
THE UNITED KINGDOM AND SIAM.
Signed at Bangkok, March 10, 1909.
[Ratifications exchanged at London, July 9, 1909.]
[With Map.]
Presented to both Houses of Parliament by Command of His Majesty.
July 1909.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HIS MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE,
BY HARRISON AND SONS, ST. MARTIN’S LANE,
PRINTERS IN ORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY.
And to be purchased either directly or through any Bookseller, from
WYMAN AND SONS, Ltd., Fetter Lane, E.C.: and
32, Abington Street, Westminster, S.W.; or
OLIVER AND BOYD, Tweeddale Court, Edinburgh; or
E. PONSONBY, 116, Grafton Street, Dublin.