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And in I went to here the birdis song
Which on the braunchis both in plaine and vale
So loude ysang that al the wode yrong,
Like as it should shiver in pieces smale
And as methoughtin that the nightingale
With so great might her voice began out wrest
Right as her heart for love would all to brest.

The soil was plaine and smoth and wondir soft
All overspread with tapettes that nature
Had made herself, covered eke aloft
With bowis grene, the flouris for to cure.

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The aire attempre and the smothe wind
Of Zephyrus emong the blossoms white
So wholsome was and nourishingley kinde
That smalè buddis and round blossoms lite
In manner gon of her brethe to delight,
To yeve us hope that there fruict shall ytake
Ayenist autumpne redy for to shake.

I saw the Daphne closed under rinde,
With the grene laurin and the wholsome pine,
Tbe' mirre also that wepeth eve'r of kinde,
The cedris bie, as upright as a line,
The filbert eke that lowe doth encline
Her bowis grene-

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There sawe I growing eke the freshe? hauthorne
In white motley, that so sote doeth ysmell,
Ash, pine and oak, with many a young acorne
And many a tree mo then I can tell
And me beforne I saw a little well,
That had his course, as I could wele beholde

Undir an hill, with quicke stremis and colde; Myrrh. 2 Mr. Gilpin, in one of his books on Picturesque Painting, condemns the hawthorn; but Chaucer praises it in different parts of his works, and I must own that I agree with our old poet in taste on this occasion.

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The gravil gold, the watir pure as glasse,
The bankis rounde the welle invironing,
And soft as velvet was the young ygrasse,
That thereupon lustilie came springyng,
The sute of trees abouten compassyng
There shadowe cast, closyng the well arounde

And all the herbis growing on the grounde; This may seem too long a digression, but these descriptions in Chaucer have given me singular pleasure. , I think also he was the only one of our English poets, most likely to have succeeded in pastoral poetry if he had attempted it.' As it is at present, I do not think we have one good pastoral poem in our language, except the Lycidas of Milton, which is indeed a true pastoral of the sublimer kind, in which he expresses Christian reflections under the veil of heathen mythology. When we talk of rich landscapes, and gay descriptions, we ought to rank among the most excellent the Description of May, by that great and ancient Scotish poet, Bishop (Gowen) Douglas, pretised as a preface to the seventh book (I think) of his celebrated translation of the. Æneid, which no man of taste,

who understands it, can read without admiration.

But to return to Theocritus. In the Bucoliastæ (Idyll. viii.) the effect which the presence of a beautiful and beloved person has on our

" Milton in a glorious passage of his prose works, where he defends his own moral character, says, that he used to rise “ with the first lark that rouses,” which answers to Theocritus's lyrigovévw xapudaraq. Chaucer in the Knight's Tale thus describes the approach of morning:

“ The besy larke the messager of day
Saleweth in his songe the morrowe gray,
And firy Phoebus riseth up so bright
That all the orient laugheth of the sight,
And with his stremis drieth in the greves

The silver droppes hanging on the leves. No poet seems to have taken more pleasure in describing the music of birds than Chaucer. One would think that the unknown author of a most beautiful copy

of verses in the Life of Colonel Gardiner, had this passage of Chaucer in his eye.

“Attend! my soul! the early birds inspire
My groveling thoughts with pure celestial fire:
They from their temperate sleep awake, and pay
Their thankful anthems for the new-born day,
See how the tuneful lurk is mounted high
And poet-like salutes the eastern sky:
He warbles through the frugrant air his lays,
And seems the beauties of the morn to praise ;
But man more void of gratitude awakes,

And gives no thanks for the sweet rest he takes," &e. &c.
After all our improvements in our language, we must own that our chief
original poets who could create, invent, and describe, are Chaucer, Spenser,
Shakspeare, Milton, and Thomson.

feelings with respect to the natural objects with which we are surrounded, is thus beautifully expressed:

Παντά έαρ, παντα δε νομοί, παντα δε γάλακτος

Ούθατα πλήθουσιν, και τα νέα τρέφεται,
*Ενθ' ά καλά παίς επινίσσεται αι δ' αν αφέρπη

ποιμαν ξηρός τηνόθι, χαι βοτάναι.-V. 41.
When here my fair one comes, spring smiles around,
Meads flourish, and the teats with milk abound;
My lambs grow fat; if she no longer stay,

Parch'd are the meads, the shepherd pines away.-Fawkes. We have immediately afterwards, “ και δρύες υψίτεραι, the oaks are higher,” where a beloved object is present. That the company of a beloved person heightens the pleasure we receive from the beauties of nature, is certain. The cowherd and shepherd in Theocritus, indeed, seem to carry the matter farther, as if such company absolutely changed the objects themselves for the better. Milton has a beautiful passage

of this kind.
“ As one who long in populous city pent
Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing on a summer’s morn to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight;
The smell of grain, or tedded grass,' or kipe
Or dairy, each rural sigbt, each rural sound ;
If chance with nymph.like step fair virgin pass,
What pleasing seem'd, for her now pleases more,
She most, and in her look sums all delight.”

Milt. Parad. Lost, b. ix. V. 445. In the same Idyllium we meet afterwards with another very striking passage, not much dissimilar to the last which was mentioned.

Κάμ' έκ τώ άντρα σύνοφρυς κόρα εχθές ιδούσα
Τας δαμάλας παρελώντα, καλόν καλόν ήμες έφασκεν.
Ου μαν ουδέ λόγον εκρίθην άπο τον πικρόν αυτά,
'Αλλα κάτω βλέψας, ταν αμετέραν οδών είρπον,
“Αδεϊ' α φωνά τάς πόρτιος, αδυ το πνεύμα
“Αδυ δε χω μόσχος γαρύεται, αδυ δε χα βώς,

"Αδυ δε τω θέρεος παρ' ύδωρ ρέον αίθριοκοιτεϊν.-v. 72. A girl with close-join’d eye-brows from the grotto spying me also

yesterday, , When driving my cows, said that I was handsome, handsome : I made her no sharp answer; But with down-cast looks I crept on my way.

1 Αδει” ά φωνά τας πόρτιος, άδυ το πεύμα. Τheocritus.

Sweet is the voice of the heifer and sweet her breath;
Sweetly the calf lows and sweetly the cow,
And sweet it is in the summer to sleep in the open air by a flowing

stream. . The same turu of expression occurs again in the 9th Idyllium at verse 7, and also a third time in the beginning of the 12th Idyllium.

«Οσσον έαρ χειμώνος, όσον μήλον βραβύλοιο
«Ήδιον, όσσον όις σφετέρης Χασιωτέρη αρνός,
"Όσσον παρθενική προφέρει τριγάμοιο γυναικός,
"Όσσον ελαφροτέρη μόσχου νεβρός, όσσον αηδών
Συμπάντων λιγύφωνος αοιδοτάτη πετεηνών,

Τόσσον έμ' εύφρηνας συ--Idyll. xii. V. 3.
As much as the spring is sweeter than winter, the apple than the plumb:
As much as the sheep has a thicker fleece than the lamb;
As much as a virgin excels a thrice-married woman,
As much as the melodious nightingale is the most musical of birds,
So much your presence delights me.

This turn of expression Milton appears to have certainly imitated, but he has greatly improved it by a beautiful repetition with some change. .

6 Sweet is the breath of morn! her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herbs, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train :
But neither breath of morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower
Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night
With this her solenın bird, nor walk by moon

Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet."
That I may not appear tedious, I shall only add two more instances
of beautiful scenery in Theocritus. The first is from the Cyclops
(Idyll. xi.): Polyphemus, in his address to the nymph Galatea, tbus
invites her:-

Ταν γλαυκάν δε θάλασσαν έα ποτί χέρσον όρεχθείν.
"Αδιoν εν τώντρω παρ' εμίν ταν νύκτα διάξεις
Εντί δάφναι τηνεί, εντί ραδιναι κυπάρισσοι:
'Εντί μέλας κισσός, έντάμπελος & γλυκύκαρπος
Έντί ψυχρόν ύδωρ, το μοι α πολυδένδρεος Αίτνα

Λευκάς εκ χιόνος, ποτόν αμβρόσιον, προΐητι.
| “Suffer the azure sea to dash against the shore;
More pleasantly you will spend the night with me in the cave;

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Here are laurels, here are spiry cypresses,
Here is the black ivy, and the vine with sweet fruit;
Here is cold water, which woody Ætna
Pours down from the white snow, as ambrosial drink.

The last instance is the fourth epigram of Theocritus, in wbich there is a most agreeable assemblage of objects, expressed in the most beautiful language, though it is exceptionable in other respects. A part of it I shall transcribe.

Τήναν ταν λαύραν τως αι δρύες, αιπόλε, κάμψας

Σύκινον εύρήσεις αρτιγλυφές ξόανον,
Σακός δ' ευ ιερός περιδέδρομεν· αέναον δε

Ρείθρον από σπιλάδων πάντοτε τηλεθάει
Δάφναις και μύρτοισι και ευώδει κυπαρίσση.

"Ένθα πέριξ κέχυται βοτρυόπαις κι
"Αμπελος" ειαρινοί δε λιγυφθόγγοισιν αοιδαίς

Κόσσυφοι αχεύσιν ποικιλότραυλα μέλη.
Ξουθαι αηδονίδες μινυρίσμασιν αντιαχεύσι,

Μέλπουσαι στόμασιν των μελίγηρυν όπα. &c. &c.
Per illum vicum, ubi quercus sunt, o caprarie, deflectens

Ficulneam invenies recens-sculptam statuam ;
-Ædes autem sacra pulchre circumcurrit, et perenne

Fluentum, e saxis undique viret
Lauris et myrtis, et odorata cupresso,

Ubi circumcirca diffusa est racemosa cum capreolis
Vitis ; vernæ autem stridulis cantibus

Merulæ modulantur varie sonora carmina :
Flavæ lusciniæ sibiles ex adverso canunt

Cantantes gutture suavissimum sonum. If any persons, who relish the poets of reason only, such as Boileau and Pope, should blame me for dwelling so much on mere scenery, I will ask them in the words of an elegant French poet ;

Avez-vous donc connu ces rapports invisibles,
Des
corps

inanimés et des êtres sensibles?
Avez-vous entendu des eaux, des prés, des bois,
La muette éloquence et la secrette voix ?”

Les Jardins, Chant I. par l'Abbé de Lille.

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