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II.

RURAL PLEASURES.

HERE happy would they stray in summer hours,
To spy the birds in their green leafy bowers,
And learn their various voices; to delight
In the gay tints, and ever bickering flight
Of dragon-flies upon the river's brim;
Or swift king-fisher in his gaudy trim
Come skimming past, with a shrill, sudden cry;
Or on the river's sunny marge to lie,

And count the insects that meandering trace,
In some smooth nook, their circuits on its face.
Now gravely ponder on the frothy cells.
Of insects, hung on flowery pinnacles;
Now, wading the deep grass, exulting trace
The corn-crake's curious voice from place to place;
Now here now there-now distant-now at
hand-

Now hush'd, just where in wondering mirth they stand.

To lie abroad on Nature's lonely breast,

Amidst the music of a summer's sky,

Where tall, dark pines the northern bank invest

Of a still lake, and see the long pikes lie Basking upon the shallows; with dark crest,

And threatening pomp, the swan go sailing by; And many a wild-fowl on its breast that shone, Flickering like liquid silver, in the joyous sun; The duck, deep poring with her downward head, Like a buoy floating on the ocean wave;

The Spanish goose, like drops of crystal, shed
The water o'er him, his rich plumes to lave;
The beautiful widgeon, springing upward, spread
His clapping wings; the heron, stalking grave
Into the stream; the coot and water-hen
Vanish into the flood, then, far off, rise again :
Such were their joys!

III.

FLORA AND THE BOY.

A BOY one morn into a garden stray'd,

Which Flora had adorn'd with sweetest flowers;

Roses, azalias, lilies, pinks, display'd

Their various charms, their fascinating powers.

The little rogue delighted view'd the rich parterre,
And long'd to rifle ev'ry beauty there;

But Flora, when she saw him thus disposed,
Drew near, and wisely interposed:

She smiling said, "My little friend,

To one alone your choice must be confined;
Look round, select one to your mind,
Where balmy odours with rare beauty blend."
He quickly laid his hand upon a rose,

Whose charms might well his little heart engage,
When soon the thorns his rude attack oppose;
With indignation fired,

He from the lurking enemy retired, And scornful thus express'd his idle rage: "Go wither on thy stem, thou treach'rous flower, There pine and fade, neglected and forlorn ; I'll seek another rose in yonder bower,

Who, fair like thee, shall blow without one thorn."

He ran to pluck one from the clust'ring store,
Each bow'r examined o'er and o'er,

As vainly search'd the garden round

Alas! no rose without a thorn was to be found.

His heart beat high with rising pride,

That thus his wishes were denied

(For he had never felt control);

At length a flood of tears relieved his swelling soul. Flora, diverted at such childish grief,

Yet willing to encourage him, approach'd again : My son," she said, "thy tears are vain;

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But take my counsel, you will find relief.
Courage and perseverance never fail :
First o'er the thorns prevail,

Each difficulty you will then remove,
And gain the object of your love."

To this each little student may compare
The hours of learning, often mix'd with care;
Yet while the road to knowledge is in view,
With diligence its winding paths pursue;
And tho' some briars on the way appear,
Those will be conquer'd, if you persevere;
And having well employ'd your youthful hours,
Reap with advantage Time's most precious flow'rs.

IV.

WONDERS AND MURMURS.

STRANGE that the Wind should be left so free,
To play with a flower, or tear a tree;
To range or ramble where'er it will,
And, as it lists, to be fierce or still;
Above and around to breathe of life,
Or to mingle the earth and sky in strife;
Gently to whisper, with morning light,
Yet to growl like a fetter'd fiend ere night;
Or to love, and cherish, and bless, to-day,
What to-morrow it ruthlessly rends away!

Strange, that the Sun should call into birth
All the fairest flowers and fruits of earth,
Then bid them perish, and see them die,
While they cheer the soul and gladden the eye.
At morn, its child is the pride of Spring-
At night, a shrivell'd and loathsome thing!
To-day, there is hope and life in its breath,
To-morrow, it shrinks to a useless death.

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