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When labour tires, and pleasure palls,
Still let the stream untroubled be,
As down the steep of age it falls,

And mingles with eternity.

HAWKSWORTH.

"Pliny has, as well as I recollect," writes Sir H. Davy, "compared a river to human life. I have never read the passage in his works, but I have been a hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant-it is more beautiful than useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its movements; it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately barge in this mature state, it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters."

APPROACH OF SPRING.

SWEET are the omens of approaching Spring,
When gay the elder sprouts her winged leaves;
When tootling robins carol-welcomes sing,

And sparrows chelp glad tidings from the eaves.
What lovely prospects wait each wakening hour,
When each new day some novelty displays,
How sweet the sunbeam melts the crocus-flower,
Whose borrow'd pride shines dizen'd in his rays;
Sweet, new-laid hedges flush their tender green;
Sweet peep the arum-leaves their shelter screen;

Ah! sweet is all that I'm denied to share ;
Want's painful hindrance holds me to her stall,-
But still Hope's smiles unpoint the thorns of care,
Since Heaven's eternal Spring is free from all.

CLARE.

THE FIRE-FLY.

TELL US,
O Guide! by what strange natural laws
This winged flower throws out, night by night,
Such lunar brightness? Why,-for what grave cause
Is this earth-insect crown'd with heavenly light?
Peace! rest content! see where, by cliff and dell,
Past tangled forest paths and silent river,
The little lustrous creatures guide us well,
And where we fail, his little light aids us ever,-
Night's shining servant! pretty star of earth!

B. CORNWALL.

The amiable and excellent Bp. Heber, in his Tour through Ceylon, thus speaks of these singular insects:-"We returned home long after sunset, which here is speedily followed by darkness, our road illuminated by myriads of Fireflies; accustomed as I have been for two years to these insects, I could not avoid a momentary start as they lit upon me, so perfectly do they resemble sparks of fire.

Yet mark as fade the upper skies,

Each thicket opes ten thousand eyes :
Before, beside us, and above,
The fire-fly lights his lamp of love,
Retreating, chasing, sinking, soaring,

The darkness of the copse exploring.

Connected with the history of this insect we may mention, on the authority of Dr. Buchanan, that the birds at Cape Comorin illuminate their pendulous nests with three or four fire-flies, that their blaze of light may dazzle the eyes of bats, which often destroy their young.-Memoirs, vol. 2., p. 55.

THE WEEPING-WILLOW.

GREEN willow! o'er whom the perilous blast
Is sweeping roughly, thou dost seem to me
The patient image of humility,

Waiting in meekness, till the storm be pass'd;
Assur'd the hour of peace will come at last :-
That there will be for thee a calm bright day,
When the dark clouds are gather'd far away;
How canst thou ever sorrow's emblem be?
Rather I deem thy slight and fragile form,

In mild endurance bending gracefully,

Is like the wounded heart, which, 'mid the storm,
Looks for the promis'd time which is to be
In pious confidence. Oh! thou should'st wave
Thy branches o'er the lonely martyr's grave.
MISS LANDON.

The Weeping-Willow, Salix Babylonica, a native of the Levant, was not cultivated in this country till 1730, when it was accidentally introduced by the celebrated Alexander Pope. This tree, with its long, slender, drooping branches, is one of the most elegant ornaments of English scenery.

TO THE CROW.

SAY, weary bird, whose level flight
Thus, at the dusky hour of night,
Tends through the midway air,

Why yet beyond the verge of day
Is lengthen'd out thy dark delay,
Adding another to the hours of care?

The wren within her mossy nest
Has hush'd the little brood to rest:
The wild wood-pigeon, rock'd on high,

Has coo'd his last soft note of love,
And fondly nestles by his dove,

To guard their downy young from an inclement sky.

Each twittering bill and busy wing,
That flits through morning's humid Spring,

Is still,-listening perhaps so late,

To Philomel's enchanting lay,

Who now, asham'd to sing by day,

Trills the sweet sorrows of her fate.

Haste, bird, and nurse thy callow brood,
They call on Heaven and thee for food,

Bleak,- -on some cliff's neglected tree;
Haste, weary bird, thy lagging flight-
It is the chilling hour of night,

Fit hour of rest for thee!

"The Carrion Crow, Corvus corone, is perhaps the most generally known and least beloved, of all our land birds; having neither melody of song, nor beauty of plumage, nor civility of manners, to recommend him; on the contrary, he is branded as a thief and a plunderer. Hated as he is by the farmer, watched and persecuted by almost every bearer of a gun, who all triumph in his destruction, had not Heaven bestowed on him intelligence and sagacity far beyond common, there is reason to believe, that the whole tribe would long ago have ceased to exist. The myriads of worms, moles, mice, caterpillars, grubs, and beetles, which he destroys, are altogether overlooked; but on account of his depredations among the poultry and game, no mercy is shown him."

For further information respecting this wary bird, see Wilson's Amer. Ornith., and also a paper by Mr. Waterton in the Mag. of Nat. Hist., vol. 6., where this amusing writer states, that the Crow is a very early riser, and retires to rest later than any other of our British birds.

AMPHIBIOUS ANIMALS.

AMPHIBIOUS monsters haunted the lagoon;
The Hippopotamus, amidst the flood,
Flexile and active as the smallest swimmer;
But on the bank, ill-balanc'd and infirm,
He graz'd the herbage, with huge head declin'd,
Or lean'd to rest against some ancient tree.
The Crocodile, the dragon of the waters,
In iron panoply, fell as the plague,

And merciless as famine, cranch'd his prey;
While from his jaws, with dreadful fangs all serried,
The life-blood dyed the waves with deadly streams.
The Seal and the Sea-lion, from the gulf

Came forth, and, couching with their little ones,
Slept on the shelving rocks that girt the shore,
Securing prompt retreat from sudden danger.
The pregnant Turtle, stealing out at eve,
With anxious eye and trembling heart, explor'd
The loneliest coves, and in the loose warm sand

Deposited her eggs, which the sun hatch'd:
Hence the young brood, that never knew a parent,
Unburrow'd and by instinct sought the sea;
Nature herself, with her own gentle hand,
Dropping them one by one into the flood,
And laughing to behold their antic joy,
When launch'd in their maternal element.

MONTGOMERY.

THE PHEASANT.

CLOSE by the borders of the fringed lake,
And on the oak's expanding bough, is seen,
What time the leaves the passing zephyrs shake,
And gently murmur through the sylvan scene:
The gaudy Pheasant, rich with varying dyes,
That fade alternate, and alternate glow,
Receiving now his colours from the skies,
And now reflecting back the watery bow.
He flaps his wings, erects his spotted crest;
His flaming eyes dart forth a piercing ray;
He swells the lovely plumage of his breast,
And glares a wonder of the orient day.
Ah! what avail such heavenly plumes as thine,
When dogs and sportsmen in thy ruin join!

The inimitable lines on this bird by Pope, may here be aptly quoted :

See! from the brake the whirring Pheasant springs,

And mounts exulting on triumphant wings;

Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,

Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.

Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes,

His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes;

The vivid green his shining plumes unfold,

His painted wings and breast that flames with gold!

:

The various tints of green-gold, blue, and violet in the plumage of this bird, exceed description; these colours possess the wonderful property of varying their shades according to the direction in which the light falls upon them. M. Viellot considers, that the metallic feathers of birds owe their brilliancy to their density, to the polish of their surface, and to the great number of little concave mirrors, which are perceptible on the fringes.-Rennie's Field Nat. Mag. vol. 1, p. 299-304. See also interesting observations on the Covering of Birds, in Paley's Nat. Theol., chap. 12.

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