14.-THE BIRDS' WEDDING ANTICIPATED.-Cowper. It chanced, upon a winter's day,-but warm, and bright, and calm as May, the birds, conceiving a design to forestal sweet St. Valentine, in many an orchard, copse and grove, assembled on affairs of love; and with much twitter and much chatter, began to agitate the matter. At length ... a Bullfinch, who could boast more years and wisdom than the most, entreated, opening wide his beak, a moment's liberty to speak; and, silence publicly enjoin'd, deliver'd briefly thus his mind :-"My friends! be cautious how ye treat the subject upon which we meet; I fear we shall have winter yet." A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, with golden wing and satin poll,—a last year's bird, who ne'er had tried what marriage means, thus pert replied: "Methinks the gentleman," quoth she, "opposite, in the apple-tree, by his good will would keep us single till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle; or (which is likelier to befal) till Death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado; my dear Dick Redcap, what say you ?" . . Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, turning short round, strutting, and sideling, attested glad his approbation of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments so well express'd, had wondrous influence on the rest; all pair'd and each pair built a nest. But, though the birds were thus in haste, the leaves came on not quite so fast; and Destiny, that sometimes bears an aspect stern on Man's affairs, not altogether smiled on theirs. The wind, of late breath'd gently forth, now shifted east, and east-by-north; bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, could shelter them from rain and snow: stepping into their nests, they paddled; themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled. Soon every father-bird and mother grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other-parted without the least regret, except that they had ever met; and learn'd in future to be wiser than to neglect a good adviser!...Misses! the tale that I relate this lesson seems to carry:-Choose not alone a proper mate, but proper time to marry. 15. THE UNGRATEFUL CUPID.-Hughes. At dead of night, when mortals lose their various cares in soft repose, I heard a knocking at my door: "Who's that," said I, "at this late hour disturbs my rest?" It sobb'd and cried, and thus in mournful tone replied : "A poor unhappy child am I, that's come to beg your charity; let Cupid in. You need not fear; I mean no harm, I vow and swear; but, wet and cold, crave shelter here; betray'd by night, and led astray, I've lost, alas! I've lost my way." Moved with this little tale of fate, I took a lamp, and oped the gate when, see! a naked boy before the threshold; at his back he wore a pair of wings, and by his side a crooked bow and quiver tied. "My pretty angel! Come," said I, "come to the fire, and do not cry." I stroked his neck and shoulders bare, and squeezed the water from his hair; then chafed his little hands in mine, and cheer'd him with a draught of wine. Recover'd thus, says he, "I'd know, whether the rain has spoilt my bow; let's try"-then shot me with a dart. The venom throbb'd, did ache and smart, as if a bee had stung my heart. "Are these your thanks, ungrateful child! are these your thanks ?" The impostor smiled. Farewell, my loving host," says he, "all's well; my bow's unhurt, I see; but what a wretch I've made of thee!" 66 16.-TO THE CUCKOO.-Wordsworth. O blithe new-comer! I have heard, I hear thee, and rejoice; Thrice welcome! darling of the Spring! even yet thou art to me The same whom in my schoolboy days I listen'd to; that cry 17.-AUTUMN-A DIRGE.-Shelley. The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, the bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying; and the Year-on the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, is lying. Come, Months, come away, from November to May, in your saddest array,-follow the bier of the dead cold Year, and like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre ! 2 The chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, the rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling for the Year; the blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone to his dwelling. Come, Months, come away; put on white, black, and gray;-let your light Sisters play; ye follow the bier of the dead cold Year, and make her grave green with tear on tear. 18.-THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS.-Spenser. And is there care in Heaven? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, How oft do they their silver bowers leave, They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, 19.-LIFE.-Tucker. Days of my youth! ye have glided away; been 20.-MINSTREL'S SONG IN ELLA.-Chatterton. 10 sing unto my roundelay! O drop the briny tear with me! Dance no more at holiday; like a running river be:-My love is dead, gone to his death bed, all under the willow-tree! 2 Black his hair as the winter night; white his neck as summer snow; ruddy his face as the morning light;-cold he lies in the grave below. 3 Sweet his tongue as throstle's note, quick in dance as thought can be; deft his tabor, cudgel stout; 0, he lies by the willow-tree! 4 Hark! the raven flaps his wing in the brier'd dell below; Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing to the night-mares as they go. See, the white moon shines on high! whiter is my true love's shroud; whiter than the morning sky, whiter than the evening cloud. My love is dead, gone to his death-bed, all under the willow-tree! 5 21. SUMMER BIRDS.-Mary Howitt. 1 How pleasant the life of a bird must be, flitting about in each leafy tree; in the leafy trees so broad and tall, like a green and beautiful palacehall, with its airy chambers, light and boon, that ope to the sun, and stars, and moon; that open unto the bright blue sky, and the frolicsome winds as they wander by! 2 They have left their nests in the forest bough,those homes of delight they need not now and the young and the old may wander out, and traverse the green world round about; and, hark! at the top of this leafy hall, how, one to the other, they lovingly call:-" Come up, come up!" they seem to say, "where the topmost twigs in the breezes play! 3 Come up, come up, for the world is fair, where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!" And the birds below give back the cry, "We come, we come, to the branches high!" How pleasant the life of the birds must be, living in love in a leafy tree; and away through the air what joy to go, and to look on the green bright earth below! pleasant the life of a bird must be, skimming about on the breezy sea, creşting the billows like silvery foam, and then wheeling away to its cliffbuilt home! What joy it must be to sail upborne by a strong free wing, through the rosy morn; to meet the young sun, face to face, and pierce like a shaft the boundless space; 5 to pass through the bowers of the silver cloud, and to sing in the thunder's halls aloud; to spread out the wings for a wild free flight with the upper cloud-winds,-oh, what delight! Oh, what would I give, like a bird to go right on through the arch of the sunlit bow, and to see how the water-drops are kissed, into green, and yellow, and amethyst! 6 How pleasant the life of a bird must be, wherever it listeth there to flee; to go when a joyful fancy calls, dashing adown 'mong the waterfalls; then wheeling about, with its mates at play, above and 4 How below, and among the spray; hither and thither, with screams as wild as the laughing mirth of a rosy child! 7 What a joy it must be, like a living breeze to flutter about 'mong the flowering trees; lightly to soar, and to see beneath the wastes of the blossoming purple heath; and the yellow furze, like fields of gold that gladden some fairy region old....On mountain tops, on the billowy sea, on the leafy stems of the forest tree, how pleasant the life of a bird must be! 22.-THE NEGLECTED CHILD.-T. H. Bayley. I never was a favourite; my mother never smiled On me with half the tenderness that bless'd her fairer child. How blessed are the beautiful! love watches o'er their birth. And wished-for others wished it too!-I never had been born! I'm sure I was affectionate; but in my sister's face There was a look of love that claim'd a smile or an embrace. But soon a time of triumph came—a time of sorrow too! |