As, first, the lark, when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself and those that hear her; she then quits the Earth, and sings as she ascends higher into the air, and having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute and sad, to think she must descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch, but for necessity.
How do the blackbird and thrassell, with their melodious voices, bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed months warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to?
Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular seasons, as, namely, the leverock, the titlark, the little linnet, and the honest robin, that loves mankind both alive and dead.
But the nightingale (another of my airy creatures) breeds such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, then it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased.
Isaac Walton, The Compleat Angler (Wordsworth Classics, 1996) p. 84