and for the next fifty years.

8. In the meantime, you yourselves, or, to speak more generally, the
young rising scholars of England,--all of you who care for life as well
as literature, and for spirit,--even the poor souls of birds,--as well
as lettering of their classes in books,--you, with all care, should
cherish the old Saxon-English and Norman-French names of birds, and
ascertain them with the most affectionate research--never despising
even the rudest or most provincial forms: all of them will, some day or
other, give you clue to historical points of interest. Take, for
example, the common English name of this low-flying falcon, the most
tamable and affectionate of his tribe, and therefore, I suppose,
fastest vanishing from field and wood, the buzzard. That name comes
from the Latin "buteo," still retained by the ornithologists; but, in
its original form, valueless, to you. But when you get it comfortably
corrupted into Provencal "Busac," (whence gradually the French busard,
and our buzzard,) you get from it the delightful compound "busacador,"
"adorer of buzzards"--meaning, generally, a sporting person; and then
you have Dante's Bertrand de Born, the first troubadour of war, bearing
witness to you how the love of mere hunting and falconry was already,
in his day, degrading the military classes, and, so far from being a
necessary adjunct of the noble disposition of lover or soldier, was,
even to contempt, showing itself separate from both.

"Le ric home, cassador,
M'enneion, e'l buzacador.
Parlan de volada, d'austor,
Ne jamais, d'armas, ni d'amor."

The rich man, the chaser,
Tires me to death; and the adorer of buzzards.
They talk of covey and hawk,
And never of arms, nor of love.

"Cassador," of course, afterwards becomes "chasseur," and "austor"
"vautour." But after you have read this, and familiarized your ear with
the old word, how differently Milton's phrase will ring to you,--"Those
who thought no better of the Living God than of a buzzard idol,"--and
how literal it becomes, when we think of the actual difference between
a member of Parliament in Milton's time, and the Busacador of to-day;--and
all this freshness and value in the reading, observe, come of your
keeping the word which great men have used for the bird, instead of
letting the anatomists blunder out a new one from their Latin
dictionaries.

9. There are not so many namable varieties, I just now said, of ro