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The miser has folly enough,

For his soul is in sordid bags,
And the spendthrift's folly, alas!

Brings him to sin and rags.

There is folly in statesmen's schemes,

For, spite of their plotting and wit,
There's a wiser band above

That leads them with bridle and bit.

There's folly in power and pride,

That makes full many to fall;
There's a folly in maiden's love,

But that is the sweetest of all.

But of all the follies, the worst

For it stings with constant smart,
The scorpion of the mind-

Is that of a thankless heart.
For the thankless heart is cursed,

And with blessings encompass'd grieves-
For it cannot rejoice with the hand

That gives nor yet receives.
To be thankful makes better the good;

And if Heaven should send us ill,
There is kindness in Him that gives-

So let us be thankful still.

O let us be thankful in youth,
And let us be thankful in

age-
Let us be thankful through life,

For there's pleasure in every stage.
Youth has its own sweet joys,

And he must be blind as a bat,
Who cannot see Love's sweet smile,

And will not be thankful for that.

There are friends the dearest to cheer,

Ere half our sand is run-
And affection makes wintry days

As bright as the summer's sun.
And when from the dearest on earth

We part, let us hope 'tis given
A boon to the thankful still

To meet them again in Heaven.

While Pictor was singing the lat- blue sky, and was lost to our sight. ter stanzas of his song, a poor play. Was the music his pleasure ? did ful squirrel shook the light boughs instinct teach him to trust ? did he that bounded back from his spring feel sure companionship, and invite The sportive creature characterised us, as co-tenants of the greenwood, the charmed security of the scene, to take sweet pastime with him i as he gamboled and leaped so near “Blessed is the sanctity of the greenour presence-then suddenly mount wood shade," said Pictor—" it proed upwards, through the golden tects all—and takes tyranny out of leaves that glittered in relief of the the heart of man, and puts in ten. derness. We love the waters, the tion-and all bound together in one trees, and every living thing creep- beauty by a heaven-gifted harinony ing out from or under the little delighting in their sound, then leaves—the peering flowers; we be silence, and in picture.” lieve them all to have life and affec.

O ye are fools that love to stand

Above your fellow men ;
To scatter by the wave of hand,

And kill by stroke of pen.
The sunshine and the greenwood shade
For Peace and Innocence were made.

Ye are not happier than your slaves,

And better may not be ;
For ye contemn what virtue craves,

Sweet love and sympathy.
Better to rule one wayward mind,
Than lord it over half mankind.

By banks of river soft and clear,

'Mid greenwood boughs to lie
To hear sweet sounds with thankful ear,

And see with thankful eye
To feel my heart is link'd with all
I see and hear-or great or small-
This Nature's peace-proclaim'd around,

In all her bounty given-
'Tis writ in sunshine on the ground,

And breathed in airs from Heaven;
Before all power and high degree
Is love beneath the greenwood tree.

Pictor rose with the last lines- osto, I remained, reclined against a and after some moments of unex- large mossy stone, alternately lookpressed thought, I turned, and saw ing about me, and reflectinghim a short way down the stream, making himself a path among the

“ Pensoso più dun'ora, a capo basso.” moss-covered stones that lay at the I was rising to depart, when I saw

He water's edge. I know not what his Pictor bastening towards me. thoughts were, but he stopped sud- was then in the broad sun, crossing denly, leaned against a fragment of some deep fern, out of the shelterrock, and sang

ing range of the high rocks that form

ed the enclosed scene. The view “ Per valli, per boschi

here was from shade into sunshine, Cercando di Nice

and beautiful it was; but Pictor Sol l'echo mi dice

would not let me enjoy it, telling me, Che Nice non v'è

that lower down, be had clambered Domando di lei A ogn'aura piangendo

over some rocks, and come upon a Ogn'aura tacendo,

scene that must require all the power Sen passa da me."

of the pencils and colours of both.

Sketcher. Yes, I know where you My tranquillity was somewhat would take me. There is a large shelfmore practical than my friend Pic- of rock, and the water thunders down tor's. “I left him to his vagaries, and into a deep pool, that, but a little way turned to the quiet study of the on, is as still as silence itself; and scene before me. I will make it, there too are high banks, and trees thought I, the subject of a picture. shooting across, and stones in the Like the knight, therefore, in Ari. water, like things that once had life,

and then for punishment were en- ly find his way to it. There may be chanted into stone; and on the op- some little peril of precipitation into posite bank are good trees, and a the flood, and you may be tossed, dark reddish rock, with cavernous kicked, and cuffed handsomely in parts, and green boughs hanging your passage, by the water-sprites down from it into the recesses, and that gambol about the falls, ere you you have deep shade and sunshine get into the quiet, still pool. I was reedging it.

marking this to Pictor just as we had Pictor. You know the spot, I see; reached the ledge of rock that forms but, nevertheless, let us go there. the foreground. We still heard the

Sketcher. We will; but first tell subdued roar of the water at our me what is the poetical character of back; and as we looked into the this scene that we have been study- deep black pool, it looked awfully ing, for I think I shall transfer much deep. of it to canvass.

Pictor. You see how narrow the Pictor. A peace, a tranquillity, gift- river is here, as if for some purpose ed by enchantment. The precincts it is to prevent escape. The sunof an Undine's bower-every leaf is shine beyond is a decoy; there are oracular, and sings as it moves, “Let the enchanted stones--depend upon there be nothing to disturb the peace it, the black magician knows this that reigns here.” You should be so spot. We are enclosed by the rocks impressed with the entire security and by water-trees ready to press of the scene, that were you to see a down over our heads, and keep us lion turning that corner, and imagine under water, lest at any time we him as large a monster as you please, might bob up; and see how slippery and awfully dimly seen, with his and shelving this ledge is on which we tawny form amid the sombre rocks sit. The seat is not easy--we shall -I say, were you to see a lion, you slip down. This looks so like a spot ought in your faith to be undis.' altogether of deep treachery, that turbed.

had I the youth and beauty of Hylas, Sketcher. If he were to“ roar you I would not stay here another moas gently as any sucking dove." But ment. That black pool is a cauldron as you are not a gentle Una, with in- of enchantment; and farther on unnocence to tame the menagerie of der those sunny trees, insidiously the forest, I will not answer for my. kissing the liquid, may lurk the self, and in truth you have some- treacherous nymphs, that would " lift what disturbed the repose; and yet up their pearly arms and take him it is a good idea, if one could re. in." present in a picture the perfect se- In truth, the ideas conveyed by curity in the presence of such an Pictor's description and feigned fears animal, and yet remove all fear and were perfectly accordant to the all necessity for it—the lion literally scene. The colour was most rich lying down with the lamb.

and fascinating, with just that mixPictor. The repose would become ture of the awful that gave a pura holy repose-the trunks of the trees pose to the higher parts. Consewould enlarge themselves, and over quently, there was nothing little. all there would be a sublime peace. Above our heads were the branches of

Pictor being impatient, without trees that shot over from each bank further delay we sought the scene of the river; on our left it was a high that had so much pleased him. If I and rocky bank, from which the do not stop to remark upon the intere trees grew thick, and festoons of mediate beauties, it must not be con- greenery were dropping, over the cluded that there were none to ad- more precipitous part of the rock. mire. I know no little river scene The sun was gleaming behind these where there is, within so short a dis- trees, and great was the variety of tance, so much beauty. I cannot but tender green in shade, and great was here express a regret that the scene the playful change of form in this to which we were hastening is in- mass of foliage. Seen through the accessible to ladies; and a Dandy trees in the middle of the picture, Sketcher, if there be such a monster was the range of hills that winds to (but there cannot be), would scarce- wards Lynmouth. It was a subject of great simplicity. We were long that the waters might rise, and cut very busy with our sketching mate- off our retreat. Long, therefore, did rials; and, as is usual on such occa- I mark a few stones on my left, for I sions when deeply interested, very was now directly facing the opposite silent. I observed the leaves of the bank—and to my satisfaction, obtrees on the other side to be strongly served not the slightest perceptible illuminated, or rather relieved off a alteration in the height of the water. purple sky, and watery clouds were Pictor said a great many sublime gathering in front. The water be- things, but I was too uneasy to note hind us assumed a more decided them on memory's tablet; and I took hammering and pounding noise, that the first opportunity of a cessation of to me, who have a fear in the noise the pelting of the storm, to make my, of water, was terrifying. It was grand, way back over the rocks, the way I and therefore I thought of Homer had entered, and only recollect maand Neptune, sea-gods and river- king one piece of criticism, which, as gods upsetting islands with their tri. it is a sketch from nature, may be of dents, and tossing them over as you some value to any future author of would mounds in a minnow pond. an epic poem, namely, that Virgil But I was soon convinced that there was a great fool, or very insensible was more growling than the waters to the sublime effects of nature, or would account for. The sunshine in he would have had a better contrithe middle of the picture had gra- vance than that of love-making in a dually withdrawn—at least I sup- cave in a thunder-storm, or his hero pose so-for it was gone, and I did was not of my mind. We had remained not see it depart. There we were in our cave of encbantment perhaps caught; and in spite of reason and an hour; and by the time we had reasoning, and all that sort of thing reached the deep, fern bank I have now taught in every hedge-school at before mentioned, the storm had one farthing per day, did I feel as if entirely ceased. The sun was shiI were caught, entrapped, by some ning again, and the Cloud Demon genius loci, that had me at his mercy; had passed far from moor and and, I confess, with haste I did pack fell, and gone to mingle with his up my portfolio, and get under shel- burly fellows in the broad deep. ter of a ledge of the rock not far from Peace was restored, and Nature our seat, and there finding something looked fresh and green, yet meek very, like a cavernous parlour, in- and gentle after the rebuke-beauvited Pictor, who joined me here tiful because innocent, and interestfrom an opposite direction, so I con- ing because a sufferer. A bird or cluded he had his fears too, and fear- two began to pipe a few notes, as to ed the fate of Hylas.

proclaim that the Sessions for the We had scarcely ensconced our. Peace were over, and the stern Jus. selves in our cavern of refuge, when tices departed, and creeping things down came the rain in torrents. peeped in and out, from the shrewThe roaring of the waters the pound- mouse to the beetle, without fear of ing of its wrath among the huge stones the “great Assize.” Pictor looked -the growling of the thunder-and up to the path on the right, much the still undisturbed bleak pool close above us, and remarked a drenched to us, that seemed, like Erebus, to party returning from the Waters'. receive all, yet never to be full, alto-meet. He laughed, and said that gether excited us greatly. I have no they were Oxford scholars, whom doubt we were in most perfect secu- he had heard, ere we set out, disrity, unless an earthquake had put cussing what they should do with an extinguisher upon us, shining themselves after a few hours of inlights of the sketching world, and tended hard study of Aristotle, but that might have happened anywhere; that the sudden arrival of three fair but whether we were safe or not, it companions had soon decided them; was not possible to divest the mind and having studied the to Diary and of a sense of danger, and I confess το φιλεισθαι they thought it high time that I wished myself fairly out of to show themselves practically masthe scene.

ters of the lesson, and so they went More than once the possibility with the party to Waters'-meet. suggested itself to my idle fancy, I was very much tickled with the no. tion of their fine studies, and thought that we welcomed the ladies of our of “the Lay of Aristotle,”. quoth party, who were engaged to meet us Pictor, and made a glee on the sub- at the rustic seat; they brought ject, which, if our party meet us with guitars and refreshments—and there the guitar as they promised, I will we determined to pass an hour or make interest to have performed. two very delightfully. Such deterWe proceeded to our old ground, and minations are not always fulfilled; in not finding our party arrived, thought this instance they were. I told our it as well to prepare for them ; we friends that Pictor had a glee for therefore piled together a heap of them to practise, on the incident of dry wood, made a tolerable fire, the Oxford scholars. They readily dried our shoes and stockings, and assented, and some little time was aired our portfolios. The rest of the spent in the rehearsal. The woods evening was very beautiful, and it soon rang with voices. was not long after we were refreshed

GLEE.

There were three students sat on a hill

Over the pleasant Lynn-
Their books were closed, yet they held them still,

Each one beneath his chin.
And they vow'd no more o'er the leaves to pore,

Or even to look therein.

Al. Where shall we pass the rest of the day? 1 Stud. With me, with me, with me

And we will quaff, and we will laugh,

The merry, merry hours away.

AU. Where shall we pass the rest of the day? 2 Stud. With me, with me, with me

For the joyous boat it is afloat,

And we will away to sea.
All. Where shall we pass the rest of the day?
3 Stud. With me, with me, with me

Our lines we'll throw in the Lynn below,

And busy, busy anglers be.

Now there came and sat at each one's side,

Margery, Kate, and Jean,
And they look'd, and look'd, and softly cried,

With me, with me, with me
For why should we pass it all alone

Under the greenwood tree.
All. Where shall we pass the rest of the day?
Each Stud.
to his lady. S

With thee, with thee, with thee.
And so it was sweet holiday

Under the greenwood tree.

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