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4. Fraught with transient, frozen shower,
If a cloud should haply lower,
Sailing o'er the landscape dark,
Mute, on a sudden, is the lark;
But when gleams the sun again,
O'er the pearl-besprinkled plain,
She mounts, and less'ning to the sight,
Salutes the blithe return of light,
And high her tuneful track pursues,
'Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues.
5. O'er the broad fields, a tender race,
Frisk the lambs, with faltering pace,
And with eager bleatings fill
The foss that skirts the beacon'd hill.
His free-born vigor, yet unbroke
To lordly man's usurping yoke,
The bounding colt forgets to play,
Basking beneath the noon-tide ray,
And stretched among the daisies' pride,
Of a green dingle's sloping side:
While far beneath, where nature spreads
Her boundless length of level meads,
(In loose luxuriance taught to stray,)
A thousand tumbling rills inlay,
With silver veins, the vale, or pass
Redundant through the sparkling grass.

6. Yet in these presages rude,
'Mid her pensive solitude,
Fancy, with prophetic glance,
Sees the teeming months advance;
The field, the forest, green and gay,
The dappled slope, the tedded hay;
Sees the reddening orchard glow,
The harvest wave, the vintage flow;
Sees June unfold his glossy robe
Of thousand hues, o'er all the globe;
Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn,
And plenty load her ample horn.

T. WARTON.

LESSON CXXV.

THE LITTLE BROOK AND THE STAR.

1. ONCE upon a time, in the leafy covert of a wild, woody dingle, there lived (for it was, indeed, a thing of life) a certain little brook, that might have been the happiest creature in the world, if it had but known when it was well-off, and been content with

the station assigned to it by an unerring Providence. But in that knowledge and that content, consists the true secret of happiness; and the silly little brook never found out the mystery, until it was too late to profit by it.

2. I cannot say, positively, from what source the little brook came; but it appeared to well out from beneath the hollow root of an old thorn; and, collecting together its pellucid waters, so as to form a small pool within that knotty reservoir, it swelled imperceptibly over its irregular margin, and slipped away, unheard, —almost unseen,—among mossy stones and entangling branches. No emerald was ever so green: never was velvet so soft, as the beautiful moss which encircled that tiny lake: and it was gemmed and embroidered, too, by all flowers that love the shade; pale primroses and nodding violets; anemones, with their fair, downcast heads; and starry clusters of forget-me-not, looking lovingly, with their pale, tender eyes, into the bosom of their native rill.

3. The hawthorn's branches were interwoven above, with those of a holly; and a woodbine, climbing up the stem of one tree, flung across to the other its flexible arms, knotting together the mingled foliage, with its rich clusters and elegant festoons, like a fair sister, growing up under the guardianship of two beloved brothers, and, by her endearing witchery, drawing together, in closer union, their already united hearts. Never was little brook so delightfully situated; for its existence, though secluded, was neither monotonous nor solitary. A thousand trifling incidents (trifling, but not uninteresting,) were perpetually varying the scene; and innumerable living creatures, the gentlest and loveliest of the sylvan tribes, familiarly haunted its retreat.

4. Beautiful, there, was every season with its changes! In the year's fresh morning, delicious May or ripening June, if a light breeze but stirred in the hawthorn tops, down on the dimpling water came a shower of milky blossoms, loading the air with fragrance as they fell. Then, came the squirrel with his mirthful antics. Then, rustling through fern and brushwood, stole the timid hare, half startled, as she slaked her thirst at the still fountain, by the liquid reflection of her own large, lustrous eyes. There was no lack of music round about. A song-thrush had his domicil hard by; and, even at night, his mellow voice was heard, contending with a nightingale, in scarce unequal rivalry. And other vocalists, innumerable, awoke those woodland echoes. Sweetest of all, the low, tremulous call of the ring-dove floated, at intervals, through the shivering foliage, the very soul of sound and tenderness.

5. In winter, the glossy green and coral clusters of the holly, flung down their rich reflections on the little pool, then visited

through the leafless boughs with a gleam of more perfect daylight; and a red-breast, which had built its nest, and reared its young among the twisted roots of that old tree, still hovered about his summer bower, still quenched his thirst at the little brook, still sought his food on its mossy banks; and, tuning his small pipe, when every other feathered throat, but his own, was mute, took up the eternal hymn of gratitude, which began with the birth-day of Nature, and shall only cease with her expiring breath. So every season brought but changes of pleasantness to that happy little brook: and happier still it was,-or might have been,-in one sweet and tender companionship, to which passing time and revolving seasons brought no change.

6. True it was, no unintercepted sunshine ever glittered on its shaded waters; but, just above the spot where they were gathered into that fairy fount, a small opening in the overarching foliage admitted, by day, a glimpse of the blue sky; and, by night, the mild, pale ray of a bright fixed-star, which looked down into the stilly water, with such tender radiance as beams from the eyes we love best, when they rest upon us with an earnest gaze of serious tenderness. Forever, and forever, when night came, the beautiful star still gazed upon its earth-born love, which seemed, if a wandering air but skimmed its surface, to stir, as if with life, in responsive intercourse with its bright visitant.

7. Some malicious whispers went abroad, indeed, that the enamored gaze of that radiant eye was not always exclusively fixed on the little brook; that it had its oblique glances for other favorites. But I take it, those rumors were altogether libelous, mere rural gossip, scandalous tittle-tattle, got up between two old, gray, mousing owls, who went prowling about and prying into their neighbors' concerns, when they ought to have been in their beds, at home. However that may be though I warrant the kind creatures were too conscientious to leave the little brook in ignorance of their candid conjectures-it did not care one fig about the matter, utterly disregarding every syllable they said. This would have been highly creditable to the little brook, if its light mode of dismissing the subject had not been partly owing to the engrossing influence of certain new-fangled notions and desires, which, in an unhappy hour, had insinuated themselves into its hitherto untroubled bosom.

8. Alas! that elementary, as well as human natures, should be liable to moral infirmity! But that they are, was strongly exemplified in the instance of our luckless little brook. You must know, that, notwithstanding the leafy recess, in which it was so snugly located, was, to all inward appearance, sequestered as in the heart of a vast forest, in point of fact, it only skirted the edge

of an extensive plain, in one part of which lay a large pond, to which herds of kine and oxen came down to drink, morning and evening, and wherein they might be seen standing motionless for hours together, during the sultry summer noon; when the waveless water, glowing like a fiery mirror under the meridian blaze, reflected, with magical effect, the huge forms and varied coloring of the congregated cattle, as well as those of a flock of stately, milk-white geese, accustomed to swim upon its bosom.

9. Now, it so chanced, that from the nook of which we have spoken, encircled as it was by leafy walls, there opened, precisely in the direction of the plain and the pond, a cunning little peep-hole, which must have been perforated by the demon of mischief, and which no eye would ever have spied out, save that of a lynx or an idle person. Alas! our little brook was an idle person; she had nothing in the world to do from morning to night, and that is the root of all evil; so, though she might have found useful occupation, (every body can, if they seek it in right earnest,) she spent her whole time in peering and prying about, till, one unlucky day, what should she hit upon, but that identical peep-hole, through which, as through a telescope, she discovered with unspeakable amazement the great pond, all glowing in the noon-day sun; the herds of cattle and the flocks of geese, so brilliantly redoubled on its broad mirror.

10. "My stars!" ejaculated the little brook, (little thought she at that moment, of the one faithful star.) "My stars! what can all this be? It looks something like me, only a thousand times as big. What can be shining so upon it? and what can those great creatures be? Not hares, sure, though they have legs and tails; but such tails! And those other white things, that float about, they cannot be birds, for they have no legs, and yet they seem to have feathers and wings. What a life of ignorance have I led, huddled up in this poor, little, dull place, visited only by a few, mean, humdrum creatures, and never suspecting that the world contained finer things and grander company."

11. Till this unfortunate discovery, the little brook had been well enough satisfied with her condition; contented with the society of the beautiful and gentle creatures which frequented her retreat, and with the tender admiration of her own "bright unchanging star." But now there was an end to all content, and no end to garrulous discontent and endless curiosity. The latter, she soon found means to satisfy, for the sky-lark brought her flaming accounts of the sun, at whose court he pretended to be a frequent visiter; and the water-wagtail, was dispatched to ascertain the precise nature of those other mystorious objects, so bewildering to the limited faculties of the curious little brook.

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12. Back came the messenger, mopping, and mowing,* and wagging his tail with the most fantastic airs of conceited imporWell, what is it?" quoth my lady brook. Water, upon my veracity," quoth Master Wagtail, "monstrous piece of water, five hundred thousand million times as big as your ladyship.' "And what makes it so bright and glowing, instead of my dull color?" quoth my lady. "The sun, that shines full upon it," rejoins the envoy. "Oh! that glorious globe, the sky-lark talks of. How delightful it must be to enjoy his notice! But what are those fine creatures with legs, and those others with wings and no legs ?" "Oh! those are cows, and oxen, and geese; but you cannot possibly comprehend their natures, never having seen any thing larger than a hare or wood-pigeon." How now, Master Malapert!" quoth my lady, nettled to the quick at his impertinence; but her curiosity was not half satiated; so she was fain to gulp down her own insulted dignity, and went on questioning and cross-questioning, till she was ready to bubble over with spite and envy at Master Wagtail's marvelous relations. Poor thing! she did not know what allowance to make, for travelers' stories. LITERARY SOUVENIR.

66

LESSON CXXVI.

THE SAME CONCLUDED.

1. THENCEFORWARD, the little brook perfectly loathed her own peaceful, unobtrusive lot. She would have shrunk away, had it been possible, from the poor, innocent creatures, who had so long enlivened her pleasant solitude. And, worst of all, most unpardonable of all, she sickened at the sight of her benignant star, which continued to look down upon her as fondly and kindly as ever, still happily unconscious of her heartless estrangement. Well, she went on fretting and repining, from day to day, till dame Nature, fairly tired out with her wayward humor, resolved to punish her, as she deserved, by granting her heart's desire. One summer morning, came two sturdy woodmen, armed with saws, axes, and bill-hook; to work they went, lopping, hewing, and clearing, and before night-fall, there lay the little brook, exposed to the broad canopy of heaven, revealed in all its littleness, and effectually relieved from the intrusion of those insignificant creatures, which had been scared from their old familiar haunt, by that day's ruthless execution.

* Making wry faces.

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