a rose on the eglantine, and the glorious azure of a violet under the sweetbriars, leaving us not the liberty of choice, make us judge that they are both one fairer than the other. The spring there composes all the seasons; there no venomous plant buds, but her breath soon betrays her safety; there the brooks relate their travels to the pebbles; there a thousand feathered voices make the forest ring with the sweet music of their songs; and the sprightful assembling of these melodious throats is so general, that every leaf in the wood seems to have taken the shape and the tongue of a nightingale.

"Sometimes you shall hear them tickle a concert, another while they will drag and make their music languish; and by and by they passionate an elegy by interrupted sobs; and then again soften the violence of their voices, more tenderly to execute pity; and at last raise their harmony, and, what with their crotchets and warbling, send forth their lives and their voices together. Echo is so delighted with it, that she seems to repeat their airs only that she may learn them; and the rivulets, featous of their music, as they fly away grumble, much troubled that they cannot equal them. On the side of the house two walks discover themselves, whose continued green frames an emerald too big for the sight: the confused mixture of colours that the spring fastens to a million of flowers scatters the changes of one another, and their tincture is so pure that one may well judge that they get so close to one another only to escape the amorous kisses of the wind that courts them.

"One would now take this meadow for a very calm sea; but when the least zephyrus comes to wanton there, 'tis then a proud ocean full of waves, whose face furrowed with frowns threatens to swallow up those little fools. But, because this sea has no shore, the eye, as if affrighted to have run so long without finding any coast, quickly dispatches the thought to the end of the world; and the thought, being doubtful too, doth almost persuade himself that this place is so full of charms, that it hath forced the heavens to unite themselves to the

earth. In the midst of this so vast and yet so perfect carpet, runs in with silver bubbles and streams a rustic fountain, who sees the pillows of her head enamelled with jessamines, orangetrees, and myrtles; and the little flowers that throng round about would make one believe that they dispute who shall view himself in the stream first. Seeing her face so young and smooth as it is, which discovers not the least wrinkle, 'tis easy to judge she is yet in her mother's breast; and those great circles which she binds and twines herself, by reverting so often upon herself, witness that 'tis to her grief and against her will that she finds herself obliged to go from her native home. But above all things I admire her modesty, when I see her (as ashamed to be courted so near her mother) murmur and thrust back the bold hand that touches her. The traveller that comes hither to refresh himself, hanging his head over the water, wonders 'tis broad day in his horizon when he sees the sun in the antipodes, and never hangs over the bank but he's afraid to fall into the firmament,"

65 MEADOWS.

"Ye have been fresh and green,

Ye have been fill'd with flowers;
And ye the walks have been

Where maids have spent their hours.

Ye have beheld how they

With wicker arks did come,

To kiss and bear away

The richer cowslips home.

Ye've heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round;
Each virgin like a spring,

With honeysuckles crown'd.

But now we see none here,

Whose silvery feet did tread,

And with dishevell'd hair

Adorn'd this sweeter mead.

Like unthrifts, having spent

Your stock, and needy grown,

Y'are left here to lament

Your poor estates alone."

HERRICK.

On the beauty of forest scenery Gilpin says: "There are few extensive forests which do not contain, in some part or other, a specimen of every species of woody landscape. The wild forest view differs essentially from the embellished one; though sometimes we find even the forest lawn in a polished state, when browsed by deer into a fine turf and surrounded by stately woods. The forest disdains all human culture-on it the hand of Nature only is impressed: it not only pleases the eye, but arouses the imagination. Forests are natural woods set apart for the purpose of securing game: the trees of which they are formed consist of all ages and sizes, from the ancient fathers of the forest to the young scion and seedling. They grow in that wild, disordered manner which Nature prescribes, as the root casually runs which throws up the scion, or as the seed or acorn finds soil and room to establish itself and increase. The wild and rough parts of Nature produce the strongest effects on the imagination. Swaneveldt and Waterloo delighted in these: they penetrated the close forest scene, they studied its various forms;-how the bold protuberances of an old trunk received the light and shade; how easily the large boughs parted, and how negligently the smaller were interwoven; how elegantly the foliage hung, and what various shapes its little triflings. exhibited. These they characterised with truth, which gave a value to their pictures. A sandy bank, a piece of rocky ground, a winding road in the forest, or a pool of water shaded with trees, reflecting from its deep black mirror the mossy branches of an oak, or other objects which have received a strong touch of sunshine, never fails to please. The reeds and other aquatic plants which grow around the margin of streams or pools in the forest add much to the beauty of the scenery.

Nor is the cottage, which is often found in the woody scenes of the forest, without its effect it not only embellishes the scene, but shows us a dwelling where happiness may reside unsupported by wealth-a place where peace may still be enjoyed, though deprived of the favours of fortune.

"The holly often adds to the beauty of forest scenery, growing round the stem of some noble oak, and filling up all the space of the lower boughs. In summer it is a fine appendage: and in autumn its brilliant leaf and scarlet berry make a pleasing mixture with the wrinkled bark, and hoary moss, and auburn leaves of the venerable tree which it encircles. The hawthorn, too, performs the same office with good effect. Shrubs, and weeds, and wild flowers, also add to the richness of the whole. Among these, the heath and broom with their purple and yellow tints, the foxglove with its pale red pendant bells, the wide-spreading dock, and many of the thistle tribe, are very beautiful. The hue of the furze, too, is pleasant with its deep golden bloom; the greater coltsfoot also throws out magnificent masses of light and sharp touches of shade, while the exquisite rich yellowish-green which its velvet-looking leaf exhibits gives a peculiar freshness and vigour to the foreground. But, among all the minuter plants, fern is the most picturesque : we admire the form of its leaf, its elegant mode of hanging, and its dark brown polished stem; while its bright green hue in summer and its ochre tint in autumn join each season with its corresponding tinge.

"There are also incidental beauties in forest scenery arising from the weather and the seasons ;-from the weather, when it is hazy and misty, or when the sky is invested by some cold tint, or when the sun rises, or shines full at noon, or when it sets, or the day is stormy. Nothing appears through mist more beautiful than trees a little removed from the eye, when they are opposed to trees at hand; for as the foliage of a tree consists of a great number of parts, the contrast is very pleasing between the varied surface of the tree at hand, and the dead,

unvaried appearance of the removed one. Smoke is often attended with peculiar beauty in woody scenes: when we see it spreading in the forest glade, and forming a soft bluish background to the trees which intercept it, it shows their foliage and ramification to great advantage, and often assumes very pleasing and grotesque forms.

"The first dawn of day exhibits a beautiful obscurity when the east begins just to brighten with the reflections only of effulgence: a pleasing progressive light, dubious and amusing, is thrown over the face of things. A single ray is able to assist the picturesque eye, which by such slender aid creates a thousand imaginary forms if the scene be unknown, and, as the light steals gradually on, is amused by correcting its vague ideas by the real objects. What in the confusion of twilight perhaps seemed a stretch of rising ground broken into various parts, becomes now vast masses of wood and an extent of forest. As the sun begins to appear above the horizon, another change takes place: what was before only form, being now enlightened, begins to receive effect. This effect depends on two circumstances, -the catching lights which touch the summits of every object, and the mistiness in which the rising orb is commonly enveloped. The effect is often pleasing when the sun rises in unsullied brightness, diffusing its ruddy light over the upper parts of objects, which is contrasted by the deeper shadows below; yet the effect is then only transcendent when he rises accompanied by a train of vapours in a misty atmosphere. Among lakes and mountains this happy accompaniment often forms the most astonishing visions; and in the forest it is nearly as great. With what delightful effect do we sometimes see the sun's disk just appear above a woody hill, or

'Stand tiptoe on the misty mountain's top,'

and dart his diverging rays through the rising vapour! The radiance catching the tops of the trees as they hang midway upon the shaggy steep, mixes its ruddy tint with the surround