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giving him some little ease and recreation, they might withhold him from worser attempts, and so preserve amity between men. Upon the abolishing of these, you could not conceive in reason, were it not that we find it true by experience (for, sometimes things which are small in the consideration are great in the practice), what dissolute and riotous course, what unlawful games, what drunkenness, what envy, hatred, malice, and quarrelling have succeeded in lieu of these harmless sports! And these are the fruits which our strict professors have brought into the world! I know not how they may boast of their faith (for, indeed, they are pure professors), but sure I am they have banished all charity."- Goodman's Fall of Man.

SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,

Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain ;
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,

And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed;
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please!
How often have I loitered o'er thy green,

Where humble happiness endeared each scene;
How often have I paused on every charm-
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,

The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topp'd the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I blessed the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;
While many a pastime, circled in the shade,
The young contended as the old surveyed;
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;
And still, as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired;
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter titter'd round the place;
The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,
These were thy charms-but all these charms are fled.

GOLDSMITH.

A MAY-DAY SONG.

205

XXIV. A MAY-DAY SONG.

"THERE is a want too much lost sight of in our estimate of the pri vations of the humbler classes, though it is one of the most incessantly craving of all our wants, and is actually the impelling power which, in the vast majority of cases, urges men into vice and crime. It is the want of amusement. It is in vain to declaim against it. Equally with any other principle of our nature, it calls for its natural indulgence, and we cannot be permanently debarred from it, without souring the temper, and spoiling the character. Like the indulgence of all other appetites, it only requires to be kept within due bounds, and turned upon innocent or beneficial objects, to become a spring of happiness; but gratified to a certain moderate extent it must be, in the case of every man, if we desire him to be either a useful, active, or contented member of society. Now I would ask, what provision do we find for the cheap and innocent and daily amusement of the mass of the labouring population of this country? What sort of resources have they to call up the cheerfulness of their spirits, and chase away the cloud from their brow, after the fatigue of a day's hard work, or the stupefying monotony of some sedentary occupapation?"-Sir John Herschel.

COME out, come out from cities;
For once your drudging stay;
With work 'twere thousand pities
To wrong this honoured day;
Your fathers met the May

With laughter, dance and tabor;
Come, be as wise as they ;

Come, steal to-day from labour.

Is this the proof we're wiser
Than all who've gone before,
That Nature, less we prize her
Than those who lived of yore?
Their May-day sacrifice

Shall we not hold a duty,
And pay with hearts and eyes
Due honour to her beauty?

Talk not of want of leisure,
Believe me, life was made
For laughter, mirth and pleasure,
Far more than toil and trade.
And little short I hold

That social state from madness,

For daily bread where's sold

Man's natural right to gladness.

Then out from lane and alley,
From court and busy street,
Through glade and grassy valley,
With songs the May to meet;
For jests and laughter, care

From all things could but borrow;
The earth, the very air

Are death to thoughts of sorrow.
Come, hear the silver prattle
Of brooks that babbling run
Through pastures green, where cattle
Lie happy in the sun;
Where violets' hidden eyes

Are watching May's sweet coming,

And gnats and burnished flies

Its welcome loud are humming.

In song the spring comes welling
To-day from out the grass;
And not a hedge but's telling
Earth's gladness as you pass;
Far up the bright blue sky
The quivering lark is singing;
The thrush in copses nigh

Shouts out the joy it's bringing.
Then leave your weary moiling,
Your desks and shops to-day;
"Tis sin to waste in toiling
This jubilee of May;

Come, stretch you where the light
Through golden limes is streaming,

And spend, O rare delight!

An hour in summer dreaming.

W. C. BENNETT.

XXV. THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US.

"POETRY has a natural alliance with our best affections. It delights in the beauty and sublimity of the outward creation and of the soul. It indeed pourtrays, with terrible energy, the excesses of the passions; but they are passions which show a mighty nature, which are full of power, which command awe, and excite a deep, though shuddering sympathy. Its great tendency and purpose is, to carry the mind beyond and above the beaten, dusty, weary walks of ordinary life; to lift it into a purer element; and to breathe into it more pro

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.

207

found and generous emotion. It reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings back the freshness of early feeling, revives the relish of simple pleasures, keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the spring time of our being, refines youthful love, strengthens our interest in human nature by vivid delineations of its tenderest and loftiest feelings, spreads our sympathies over all classes of society, knits us by new ties with universal being, and, through the brightness of its prophetic visions, helps faith to lay hold on the future life."Channing.

"Anything would be better than a national society, formed for no higher than physical ends;-to enable men to eat, drink, and live luxuriously;-acknowledging no power greater than its own, and by consequence, no law higher than its own municipal enactments. Let a few generations pass over in such a state, and the missionary, who should preach the worship of Ceres, or set up an oracle of Apollo, or teach the people to kindle the eternal fire of Vesta on the common altar hearth of their country, would be to that degraded society as life from the dead."-Arnold.

THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This sea that bares her bosom to the moon ;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for every thing, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

WORDSWORTH.

XXVI. THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.

And

"BEAUTY is an all-pervading presence. It unfolds in the numberless flowers of the spring. It waves in the branches of the trees and the green blades of grass. It haunts the depths of the earth and sea, and gleams out in the hues of the shell and the precious stone. not only these minute objects, but the ocean, the mountains, the clouds, the heavens, the stars, the rising and setting sun, all overflow with beauty. The universe is its temple; and those men, who are alive to it, cannot lift their eyes without feeling themselves encompassed with it on every side."- Channing.

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,

When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,

And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,

There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,

There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.
And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.

BRYANT.

XXVII. SONG-ON MAY MORNING.

"Ir is not more true, however, that we weep with those who weep, than that we rejoice with those who rejoice. There is a charm in general gladness, that steals upon us without our perceiving it; and if we have no cause for sorrow, it is sufficient for our momentary happiness that we be in the company of the happy. Who is there, of such fixed melancholy, as not to have felt innumerable times this delight, that arises, without any cause but the delight which has preceded it; when we are happy for hours, and, on looking back on these hours of happiness, can discover nothing but our own happiness, and the happiness of others, which have been reflected back, and again, from each to each? So strong is this sympathetic tendency, that we not merely share the gaiety of the gay, but rejoice also with inanimate things, to which we have given a cheerfulness that does not and cannot belong to them."-Brown's Philosophy.

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

MILTON.

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