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P. 273, 1. 1, 2
, 2.

As heavenly bodies through the ether move
Silently, stormful regions far above.

"The propagation of sound, however, requires a much denser medium than light or heat; its intensity diminishes as the rarity of the air increases, so that at a very small height above the surface of the earth the noise of the tempest ceases, and the thunder is heard no more in those boundless regions where the heavenly bodies accomplish their periods in eternal and sublime silence."-SOMERVILLE'S Connection of the Physical Sciences, 2nd ed. p. 260.

P. 275, 1. 9.

As fabled trees for ever blossoming.

See Ariosto's description of the Garden of Logistilla, Canto x. Stanzas 62, 63. Also, Spenser's description of the "Garden of Adonis," Book iii. Canto vi. Stanza 42.





THIS is the balmy breathing-time of spring,
All Nature smiles, and Mirth is on the wing;
The sun is shining on this lovely scene,
Gladdening with light the meadow's tender green,
Studding the waters with its lustrous gems,
More brilliant than ten thousand diadems.
Beautiful Avon !-how can I pourtray

Thy varied charms, where'er thou wind'st thy way?
Now through the sunny meads,-now in the glade
Thou sleep'st, beneath the wood's o'er-arching shade
The "sedge-crown'd" Naiads, from their cool retreats,
Welcome my loved one, with their gather'd sweets.—

We cull'd these flowers at break of day,
Take, oh, take them, lady fair;
Fresh in the light of the morning ray,
They glisten on thy nut-brown hair.
Merrily, merrily in the trees,
The birds are merrily singing-

While rose-buds are opening,
And fruit-trees are blossoming.
How clear-how musical

Is yonder water-fall !—

Oh, God! how glorious is the genial ray
That issues from thy "Light of lights" to-day!

Now seek we, my love, yon green-flourishing wood,
That long in theatric luxuriance has stood,
Where paths intersect its dank moss-cover'd steep,
And above's a turf gallery ample and deep.
Their temples with ivy and oak-apples crown'd,
See, the wood-nymphs advance, now they all dance

Their leafy adornments now rustle and play

With their light limbs as briskly they foot it away:
Come-beneath yon bowering tree

We've prepared a couch for thee;
Such a couch was never seen

Even by our chaste-eyed queen;
Dione never laid her head

On such a spring-embellish'd bed,

Nor Galatea's bosom heaved

Beneath a beech more richly leaved.—

All the many-colour'd bowers

We have rifled of their flowers.

Sweet to us are thy beauties rare,

But sweeter the scent of vernal air:

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