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Another and the same!

of vapour-they alone are seen flying moun- as if we belonged to them and not they to us tains high-dashing, but howling not-and in forgetting that they are made to perish, we to their silent ascension, all held together by the live for ever! same spirit, but perpetually changing its But let us descend the mountain by the side beautiful array, where order seems ever and of this torrent. What a splendid series of anon to come in among disorder, there is a translucent pools! We carry the Excursion grandeur that settles down in the soul of in our pocket, for the use of our friends; but youthful poet roaming in delirium among the our presentation copy is here--we have gotten mountain glooms, and “pacifies the fever of it by heart. And it does our heart good to his heart."

hear ourselves recite. Listen ye Naiads to Call not now these vapours waves ; for the famous picture of the Ram :movement there is none among the ledges, and

“Thus having reach'd a bridge, that overarch'd ridges, and roads, and avenues, and galleries, The hasty rivulet, where it lay becalm'd and groves, and houses, and churches, and In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw

A twofold image; on a grassy bank castles, and fairy palaces-all framed of mist.

A snow-white Ram, and in the crystal flood Far up among and above that wondrous re

Most beautiful gion, through which you hear voices of water

On the green turf, with his imperial front

Shaggy and bold, and wreathed horns superb, falls deepening the silence, behold hundreds

The breathing creature stood; as beautiful of mountain-tops-blue, purple, violet--for

Beneath him, show'd his shadowy counterpart ; the sun is shining straight on some and aslant

Each had his glowing mountains, each his sky,

And each seem'd centre of his own fair world. on others-and on those not at all; nor can Antipodes unconscious of each other, the shepherd at your side, though he has lived Yet, in partition, with their several spheres,

Blended in perfect stillness to our sight. among them all his life, till after long ponder

Ah! what a pity were it to disperse ing tell you the names of those most familiar Or to disturb so fair a spectacle, to him ; for they seem to have all interchanged

And yet a breath can do it." sites and altitudes, and Black Benhun himself, Oh! that the Solitary, and the Pedlar, and the Eagle-breeder, looks so serenely in his the Poet, and the Priest and his Lady, were rainbow, that you might almost mistake him here to see a sight more glorious far than that for Ben Louey or the Hill of Hinds.

illustrious and visionary Ram. Two ChristoHave you not seen sunsets in which the pher Norths-as Highland chieftains in the mountains were embedded in masses of clouds Royal Tartan--one burning in the air-the all burning and blazing-yes, blazing—with other in the water-two stationary meteors, unimaginable mixtures of all the colours that each seeming native to its own element! This ever were born-intensifying into a glory that setting the heather, that the linn on fire--this absolutely became insupportable to the soul | a-blaze with war, that tempered into truce; as insufferable to the eyes—and that left the while the Sun, astonied at the spectacle, nor eyes for hours after you had retreated from knowing the refulgent substance from the the supernatural scene, even when shut, all resplendent shadow, bids the clouds lie still filled with floating films of cross-lights, cutting in heaven, and the winds all hold their breath, the sky imagery into gorgeous fragments? And that exulting nature may be permitted for a were not the mountains of such sunsets, whe- little while to enjoy the miracle she unawares ther they were of land or of cloud, sufficiently has wrought-alas! gone as she gazes, and vast for your utmost capacities and powers of gone for ever? Our bonnet has tumbled into delight and joy longing to commune with the the Pool--and Christopher-like the Ram in Region then felt to be in very truth Heaven? the Excursion-stands shorn of his beams-Nor could the spirit, entranced in admiration, no better worth looking at than the late Laird conceive at that moment any Heaven beyond- of Macnab. while the senses themselves seemed to have Now, since the truth must be told, that was had given them a revelation, that as it was but a Flight of Fancy--and our apparel is created could be felt but by an immortal spirit. more like that of a Lowland Quaker than a

It elevates our being to be in the body near Highland chief. 'Tis all of a snuffy brownthe sky—at once on earth and in Heaven. In an excellent colour for hiding the dirt. Sinthe body? Yes we feel at once fettered and gle-breasted our coatee-and we are in shorts. free. In Time we wear our fetters, and heavy Were our name to be imposed by our hat, it though they be, and painfully riveted on, sel would be Sir Cloudesly Shovel. On our back dom do we welcome Death coming to strike a wallet-and in our hand the Crutch. And them off-but groan at sight of the executioner. thus, not without occasional alarm to the catIn eternity we believe that all is spiritual--and tle, though we hurry no man's, we go stalking in that belief, which doubt sometimes shakes along the sward and swinging across the but to prove that its foundation lies rooted far stream, and leaping over the quagmires-by down below all earthquakes, endurable is the no means unlike that extraordinary pedestrian sound of dust to dust. Poets speak of the spirit, who has been accompanying us for the last while yet in the flesh, blending, mingling, being half hour, far overhead up-by yonder, as if he absorbed in the great forms of the outward uni- meant mischief; but he will find that we are verse, and they speak as if such absorption up to a trick or two, and not easily to be done were celestial and divine. But is not this a brown by a native, a Cockney of Cloud-Land, material creed? Let Imagination beware how a long-legged awkward fellow with a head she seeks to glorify the objects of the senses, like a dragon, and proud of his red plush, and having glorified them, to elevate them into in that country called thunder-and-lightning a kindred being with our own, exalting them breeches, hot very, one would think, in such that we may claim with them that kindred being, sultry weather-but confound us if he has

not this moment stript them off, and be not but all choral movements and melodies forpursuing his journey in puris naturalibus-yes, sook the mountains, still and silent as so much as naked as the minute he was born-our Sha- painted canvas. Waterfalls first tamed their dow on the Clouds!

thunder, then listened alarmed to their own The Picture of the Ram has been declared echoes, wailed themselves away into diminuby sumphs in search of the sublime to border tive murmurs, gasped for life, died, and were on the Burlesque. They forget that a sumph buried at the feet of the green slippery precimay just as truly be said to border on a sage. pices. Tarns sank into moors; and there was All things in heaven and on earth, mediately the voice of weeping heard and low lament and immediately, border on one another-much among the water-lilies. Ay, millions of pretty depends on the way you look at them-and flowrets died in their infancy, even on their Poets, who are strange creatures, often love mother's breast; the bee fainted in the desert to enjoy and display their power by bringing for want of the honey-dew, and the groundthe burlesque into the region of the sublime. cells of industry were hushed below the heaOf what breed was the Tup? Cheviot, Lei- ther. Cattle lay lean on the brownness of a cester, Southdown? Had he gained

Had he gained the Cup hundred hills, and the hoof of the red-deer lost at the Great North Show? We believe not, its fleetness. Along the shores of lochs great and that his owner saw in him simply a fine stones appeared within what for centuries had specimen of an ordinary breed--a shapely been the lowest water-mark; and whole bays, and useful animal. In size he was not to once bright and beautiful with reed-pointed be named on the same day with the famous wavelets, became swamps, cracked and Ram of Derby, “whose tail was made a rope, seamed, or rustling in the aridity with a useless sir, to toll the market-bell.” Jason would have crop, to the sugh of the passing wind. On the thought nothing of him compared with the shore of the sea alone you beheld no change. Golden Fleece. The Sun sees a superior sire The tides ebbed and flowed as before-the of flocks as he enters Aries. Sorry are we to small billows racing over the silver sands to say it, but the truth must be spoken, he was the same goal of shells, or climbing up to the somewhat bandy-legged, and rather coarse in same wild-flowers that bathe the foundation of wool. But heaven, earth, air, and water con- some old castle belonging to the ocean. spired to glorify him, as the Poet and his friends But the windows of heaven were openedchanced to come upon him at the Pool, and, and, like giants refreshed with mountain-dew, more than them all united, the Poet's own soul; the rivers flung themselves over the cliffs with and a sheep that would not have sold for fifty roars of thunder. The autumnal woods are shillings, became Lord Paramount of two fresher than those of summer. The mild harworlds, his regal mind all the time uncon- vest-moon will yet repair the evil done by the scious of its empiry, and engrossed with the outrageous sun; and, in the gracious afterthought of a few score silly ewes.

growth, the green earth far and wide rejoices Seldom have we seen so serene a day. It as in spring. Like people that have hidden seems to have lain in one and the same spirit themselves in caves when their native land over all the Highlands. We have been wan- was oppressed, out gush the torrents, and dedering since sunrise, and 'tis now near sunset; scend with songs to the plain. The hill-country yet not an hour without a visible heaven in all is itself again when it hears the voice of the Lochs. In the pure element overflowing streams. Magnificent army of mists! whose so many spacious vales and glens profound, array encompasses islands of the sea, and who the great and stern objects of nature have all still, as thy glorious vanguard keeps deploying day long been looking more sublime or more among the glens, rollest on in silence more beautiful in the reflected shadows, invested sublime than the trampling of the feet of with one universal peace. The momentary horses, or the sound of the wheels of chariots, evanescence of all that imagery at a breath to the heath-covered mountains of Scotland, we touches us with the thought that all it repre- bid thee hail! sents, steadfast as seems its endurance, will In all our wanderings through the Highlands, as utterly pass away. Such visions when towards night we have always found ourselves gazed on in that wondrous depth and purity on at home. What though no human dwelling a still slow-moving day, always inspire some was at hand? We cared not--for we could such feeling as this; and we sigh to think how find a bed-room among the casual inclinations transitory must be all things, when the setting of rocks, and of all curtains the wild-brier sun is seen to sink behind the mountain, and forms itself into the most gracefully-festooned all the golden pomp at the same instant to draperies, letting in green light alone from the evanish from the Loch.

intercepted stars. Many a cave we know ofEvening is preparing to let fall her shades— cool by day, and warm by night-how they and Nature, cool, fresh, and unwearied, is lay- happen to be so, we cannot tell-where no ing herself down for a few hours’ sleep. There man but ourselves ever slept or ever will had been a long strong summer drought, and a sleep; and sometimes, on startling a doe at week ago you would have pitied-absolutely evening in her thicket, we have lain down in pitied the poor Highlands. You missed the her lair, and in our slumbers heard the rain cottage-girl with her pitcher at the well in the pattering on the roofing birk-tree, but felt not brae, for the spring scarcely trickled, and the one drop on our face, till at dawning we struck water-cresses were yellow before their time. a shower of diamonds from the fragrant Many a dancing hill-stream was dead-only tresses. But to-night we shall not need to sleep here and there one stronger than her sisters among the sylvans; for our Tail has pitched attempted a pas-seul over the shelving rocks;lour Tent on the Moor-and is now sweeping the mountain with telescope for sight of our wrong with this planet of ours, and creation descending feet. Hark! signal-gun and bag- were falling back into chaos. But we love pipe hail our advent, and the Pyramid bright scenes of beautiful repose too profoundly ever ens in its joy, independent of the sunlight, that to dream of “transferring them to canvas.” has left but one streak in the sky.

Such employment would be felt by us to be desecration--though we look with delight on the work when done by others--the picture without the process the product of genius

without thought of its mortal instruments. We FLIGHT FIRST.-GLEN-ETIVE,

work in words, and words are, in good truth,

images, feelings, thoughts; and of these the Yes! all we have to do is to let down their outer world, as well as the inner, is composed, lids—to will that our eyes shall see--and, lo! let materialists say what they will. Prose is there it is-a creation! Day dawns, and for poetry--we have proved that to the satisfaction our delight in soft illumination from the dim' of all mankind. Look! we beseech you-how obscure floats slowly up a visionary loch- a little Loch seems to rise up with its tall heisland after island evolving itself into settled ronry—a central isle--and all its silvan braes, stateliness above its trembling shadow, till, till it lies almost on a level with the floor of our from the overpowering beauty of the wide con Cave, from which in three minutes we could fusion of woods and waters, we seek relief, but hobble on our crutch down the inclining greenfind none, in gazing on the sky; for the east is sward to the Bay of Waterlilies, and in that in all the glory of sunrise, and the heads and canoe be afloat among the Swans. All birches the names of the mountains are uncertain -not any other kind of tree-except a few among the gorgeous colouring of the clouds. pines, on whose tops the large nests reposeWould that we were a painter! Oh! how we and here and there a still bird standing as if should dash on the day and interlace it with asleep. What a place for Roes ! night! That chasm should be filled with en- The great masters, were their eyes to fall during gloom, thicker and thicker, nor the sun on our idle words, might haply smile-not himself suffered to assuage the sullen spirit, contemptuously—on our ignorance of artnow lowering and threatening there, as if por- but graciously on our knowledge of nature. tentous of earthquake. Danger and fear should All we have to do, then, is to learn the theory be made to hang together for ever on those and practice of art—and assuredly we should cliffs, and halfway up the precipice be fixed forth with set about doing so, had we any reathe restless cloud ascending from the abyss, so sonable prospect of living long enough to open that in imagination you could not choose but an exhibition of pictures from our own easel. hear the cataract. The Shadows should seem As it is, we must be contented with that Gallery, to be stalking away like evil spirits before richer than the Louvre, which our imagination angels of light-for at our bidding the Splen- has furnished with masterpieces beyond all dours should prevail against them, deploying price or purchase-many of them touched with from the gates of Heaven beneath the banners her own golden finger, the rest the work of of morn. Yet the whole picture should be high but not superior hands. Imagination, who harmonious as a hymn-as a hymn at once limns in air, has none of those difficulties to sublime and sweet-serene and solemn—nor contend with that always beset, and often baffle, should it not be felt as even cheerful-and artists in oils or waters. At a breath she can sometimes as if there were about to be merri- modify, alter, obliterate, or restore; at a breath ment in Nature's heart-for the multitude of she can colour vacuity with rainbow huesthe isles should rejoice-and the new-woke crown the cliff with its castle-swing the drawwaters look as if they were waiting for the bridge over the gulf profound-through a breezes to enliven them into waves, and wearied night of woods roll the river along on its moonof rest to be longing for the motion already lit reach-by fragmentary cinctures of mist beginning to rustle by fits along the silvan and cloud, so girdle one mountain that it has shores. Perhaps a deer or two-but we have the power of a hundred-giant rising above opened a corner of the fringed curtains of our giant, far and wide, as if the mighty multitude, eyes the idea is gone-and Turner or Thom- in magnificent and triumphant disorder, were son must transfer from our paper to his can- indeed scaling heaven. vas the imperfect out-line-for it is no more To speak more prosaically, every true and --and make us a present of the finished pic- accepted lover of nature regards her with a

painter's as well as a poet's eye. He breaks Strange that with all our love of nature, and not down any scene rudely, and with “many of art, we never were a Painter. True that an oft-repeated stroke;" but unconsciously and in boyhood we were no contemptible hand at insensibly he transfigures into Wholes, and all a Lion or a Tiger-and sketches by us of such day long, from morn till dewy eve, cats springing or preparing to spring in keela- ceded, as he walks along, by landscapes retir vine, dashed off some fifty or sixty years ago, ing in their perfection, one and all of them the might well make Edwin Landseer stare. Even birth of his own inspired spirit. All non-esyet we are a sort of Salvator Rosa at a savage sentials do of themselves drop off and disap scene, and our black-lead pencil heaps up con- pear-all the characteristics of the scenery fused shatterings of rocks, and flings a moun- range themselves round a centre recognised tainous region into convulsions, as if an earth by the inner sense that cannot err-and thus quake heaved, in a way that is no canny, making it is that “ beauty pitches her tents before him." people shudder as if something had gone that sublimity companions the pilgrim in the waste wilderness—and grandeur for his sake Fairies be, they pray heaven to let fall on the keeps slowly sailing or settling in the clouds. AWFUL THRISSIL all the health and happiness With such pictures has our Gallery been so that are in the wholesome stars. thickly hung round for many years, that we The dawn is softly-slowly-stealing upon have often thought there was not room for one day; for the uprisen sun, though here the other single frame; yet a vacant space has edge of his disc as yet be invisible, is diffusing always been found for every new chef-d'æuvre abroad “the sweet hour of prime," and all the that came to add itself to our collection-and eastern region is tinged with crimson, faint the light from that cupola so distributes itself and fine as that which sleeps within the that it falls wherever it is wanted—wherever wreaths of the sea-sounding shells. Hark! it is wanted not how tender the shadow! or the eagle's earliest cry, yet in his eyry. Anhow solemn the gloom !

ture.

he is pre

other hour, and he and his giant mate will be Why, we are now in Glen-Etive--and sitting seen spirally ascending the skies, in many a with our sketch book at the mouth of our glorious gyration, tutoring their offspring to Tent. Our oft-repeated passionate prayer, dally with the sunshine, that when their plumes “Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness !" are stronger, they may dally with the storm.

O Forest of Dalness ! how sweet is thy name! has once more, after more than twenty years' Hundreds of red-deer are now lying halfabsence, in this haunt of our fanciful youth asleep among the fern and heather, with their and imaginative manhood, been granted, and antlers, could our eyes now behold them, Christopher, he thinks, could again bound motionless as the birch-tree branches with along these cliffs like a deer. Ay, wellnigh which they are blended in their lair. At the quarter of a century has elapsed since we signal-belling of their king, a hero uncon, pitched this selfsame snow-white Tent amid quered in a hundred fights, the whole herd the purple heather, by the Linn of Dee. How rises at once like a grove, and with their statefleetly goes, winnowing on the air, even the weariest waving of Time's care-laden ly heads listed aloft on the weather-gleam, wings! A few yellow weather-stains are on and wide surcharged with the honey-dew yet

snuff the sweet scent of the morning air, far the canvas—but the pole is yet sound—or unmelting on the heather, and eye with the call it rather mast-for we have hoisted our looks of liberty the glad daylight that mantles topgallant,

the Black Mount with a many-coloured gar" And lo! the silver cross, to Scotland dear,"

ment. Ha! the first plunge of the salmon in languidly lifts itself up, an ineffectual streamer, the Rowan-tree Pool. There again he shoots in the fitful morning breezes !

into the air, white as silver, fresh run from Bold son, or bright daughter of England! the sea! For Loch-Etive, you must know, is hast thou ever seen a SCOTTISH Turissil?) one of the many million arms of Ocean, and What height are you-Captain of the Gren- bright now are rolling in the billows of the adier Guards? “Six feet four on my stocking far-heaving tide. Music meet for such a morn soles.” Pooma dwarf! Stand up with your and such mountains. Straight stretches the back to that stalk. Your head does not reach glen for leagues, and then bending through the above his waist-he hangs high over you- blue gloom, seems to wind away with one “his radious croun of rubies." There's a sweep into infinitude. The Great Glen of Flower! dear to Lady Nature above all others, Scotland-Glen-More itself—is not grander. saving and excepting the Rose, and he is the But the Great Glen of Scotland is yet a living Rose's husband the Guardian Genii of the forest. Glen-Etive has few woods or none land consecrated the Union, and it has been and the want of them is sublime. For cenblest. Eyeing the sun like an angry star that turies ago pines and oaks in the course of will not suffer eclipse either from light or nature all perished; and they exist now but in shadow—but burns proudly-fiercely-in its tradition wavering on the tongues of old bards, native lustre-storm-brightened, and undi- or deep down in the mosses show their black shevelled by the tempest in which it swings. trunks to the light, when the torrents join the See, it stoops beneath the blast within reach river in spate, and the moor divulges its of your hand. Grasp it ere it recoil aloft; and secrets as in an earthquake. Sweetly sung, your hand will be as if it had crushed a sleep- thou small, brown, moorland bird, though thy ing wasp-swarm. But you cannot crush it-song be but a twitter! And true to thy time to do that would require a giant with an iron even to a balmy minutemart thou, with thy glove. Then let it alone to dally with the wind, velvet tunic of black striped with yellow, as and the sun, and the rain, and the snow-all thou windest thy small but not sullen hornalike dear to its spears and rubies; and as by us called in our pride HUMBLE BEE-but you look at the armed lustre, you will see a not, methinks, so very humble, while booming beautiful emblem and a stately of a people's high in air in oft-repeated circles, wondering warlike peace. The stalk indeed is slender, at our Tent, and at the flag that now unfolds but it sways without danger of breaking in the its gaudy length like a burnished serpent, as blast; in the calm it reposes as gently as the if the smell of some far-off darling heather-bed gowan at its root. The softest leaf that en- had touched thy finest instinct, away thou folds in silk the sweetest flower of the garden, fliest straight southward to that rich flowernot greener than those that sting not if but store, unerringly as the carrier-pigeon wafting tenderly you touch them, for they are green as to distant lands some love-message on its the garments of the Fairies that dance by wings. Yet humble after all thou art; for all inoonlight round the Symbol of old Scotland, day long, making thy industry thy delight, and unchristened creatures though they the thou returnest at shut of day, cheerful even in thy weariness, to thy ground-cell within the enthralled Orchy began to rejoice as before knoll, where as Fancy dreams the Fairies dwell through all her streams and falls; and at the -a Silent People in the Land of Peace. sudden leaping of the waters and outbursting

And why hast thou, wild singing spirit of of the moon, we awoke. the Highland Glenorchy, that cheerest the long- Age is the season of Imagination, youth of withdrawing vale from Inveruren to Dalmally, Passion; and having been long young, shall and from Dalmally Church-tower to the Old we repine that we are now old? They alone Castle of Kilchurn, round whose mouldering are rich who are full of years—the Lords of turrets thou sweepest with more pensive mur- Time's Treasury are all on the staff of Wismur, till thy name and existence are lost in dom; their commissions are enclosed in furthat noble loch-why hast thou never had thy rows on their foreheads, and secured to them Bard? “A hundred bards have I had in for life. Fearless of fate, and far above forbygone ages,” is thy reply; “but the Sassenach tune, they hold their heritage by the great understands not the traditionary strains, and charter of nature for behoof of all her children the music of the Gaelic poetry is wasted on who have not, like impatient heirs, to wait for his ear.” Songs of war and of love are yet their decease; for every hour dispenses their awakened by the shepherds among these lonely wealth, and their bounty is not a late bequest braes; and often when the moon rises over but a perpetual benefaction. Death but sancBen Cruachan, and counts her attendant stars tifies their gifts to gratitude; and their worth in soft reflection beneath the still waters of that is more clearly seen and profoundly felt within long inland sea, she hears the echoes of harps the solemn gloom of the grave. chiming through the silence of departed years. And said we truly that Age is the season of Tradition tells, that on no other banks did the Imagination? That Youth is the season of fairies so love to thread the mazes of their Passion your own beating and bounding hearts mystic dance, as on the heathy, and brackeny, now tell you-your own boiling blood. Intenand oaken banks of the Orchy, during the long sity is its characteristic; and it burns like a summer nights when the thick-falling dews flame of fire, too often but to consume. Experceptibly swelled the stream, and lent a live- pansion of the soul is ours, with all its feellier music to every waterfall.

ings and all its “thoughts, that wander through There it was, on a little river island, that eternity;"nor needeth then the spirit to have once, whether sleeping or waking we know wings, for power is given her, beyond the not, we saw celebrated a Fairy's Funeral. dove's or the eagle's, and no weariness can First we heard small pipes playing, as if no touch her on that heavenward flight. bigger than hollow rushes that whisper to the Yet we are all of “the earth earthy,” and young night winds; and more piteous than aught that and old alike, must we love and honour our trills from earthly instrument was the scarce home. Your eyes are bright-ours are dim; audible dirge! It seemed to float over the but "it is the soul that sees,” and “ this diurnal stream, every foam-bell emitting a plaintive sphere” is visible through the mist of tears. note, till the airy anthem came floating over In that light how more than beautiful-how our couch, and then alighted without footsteps holy-appears even this world! All sadness, among the heather. The pattering of little save of sin, is then most sacred; and sin itself feet was then heard, as if living creatures were loses its terrors in repentance, which alas! is arranging themselves in order, and then there seldom perfect but in the near prospect of diswas nothing but a more ordered hymn. The solution. For temptation may intercept her harmony was like the melting of musical dew- within a few feet of her expected rest, nay, drops, and sang, without words, of sorrow and dash the dust from her hand that she has gadeath. We opened our eyes, or rather sight thered from the burial-place to strew on her came to them when closed, and dream was head; but Youth sees flowery fields and shining vision! Hundreds of creatures, no taller than rivers far-stretching before her path, and canthe crest of the lapwing, and all hanging down not imagine for a moment that among life's their veiled heads, stood in a circle on a green golden mountains there is many a Place of plat among the rocks; and in the midst was a Tombs ! bier, framed as it seemed of flowers unknown But let us speak only of this earth-this to the Highland hills; and on the bier a Fairy, world—this life--and is not Age the season of lying with uncovered face, pale as the lily, and Imagination ? Imagination is Memory imbued motionless as the snow. The dirge grew fainter by joy or sorrow with creative power over the and fai

and then died quite away; when past, till it becomes the present, and then, on two of the creatures came from the circle, and that vision “far off the coming shines” of the took their station, one at the head and the other future, till all the spiritual realm overflows at the foot of the bier. They sang alternate with light. Therefore was it that, in illumined measures, not louder than the twittering of the Greece, Memory was called the Mother of the awakened wood-lark before it goes up the Muses; and how divinely indeed they sang dewy air, but dolorous and full of the desola- around her as she lay in the pensive shade! tion of death. The flower-bier stirred; for the

You know the words of Milton spot on which it lay sank slowly down, and in “ Till old experience doth attain a few moments the greensward was smooth as

To something like prophetic strain;" ever-the very dews glittering above the buried and you know, while reading them, that ExpeFairy. A cloud passed over the moon; and, rience is consummate Memory, Imagination with a choral lament, the funeral troop sailed wide as the world, another name for Wisdom, duskily away, heard afar off, so still was the all one with Genius, and in its “prophetic midnight solitude of the glen. Then the dis- / strain"-Inspiration.

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