THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE. 155

beautiful gardens, that crystal river, the purple
mountains, the glorious city—I know them all!
Your song transports me there once more. It is
the Tagus I hear rushing, as it pours from hills
and woods to water the gardens on its banks!
Oh, waters of comfort and refreshment—oh, gar-
dens of delight! why am I banished among
strangers, insensible and dull of heart ?”

“The same sun by day, the same moon by night,
stars watching above,’ sang the Nightingale in
reply. Fountains flowing for all, hopes that
comfort all, love all-embracing, joy for ever in
store, one home at last, ours, ever ours.”

Now this was merely the end of his song.
What he had said besides, only his listeners can
tell you.

“How our country must miss you!” sighed
another (the Tomata, who had lately been planted
out), “ but how could you leave it? Who brought
you away? Shall you ever go back? If you
do, take me with you. Back, back to the sunny
fields where we grew together in beauty by thou-
sands. Here I feel I must perish before the sun