Thy slights can make the wretched more forlorn, And deeper drive affliction's barbéd thorn.

VISIT THE PRISONER, AND DISAPPOINT HIM NOT. Say not, 'I'll come and cheer thy gloomy cell With news of dearest friends; how good, how well : I'll be a joyful herald to thine heart :' Then fail, and play the worthless trifler's part, To sip flat pleasures from thy glass's brim, And waste the precious hour that's due to him! In mercy spare the base, unmanly blow: Where can he turn, to whom complain of you ? Back to past joys in vain his thoughts may stray, Trace and retrace the beaten, worn-out way, The rankling injury will pierce his breast, And curses on thee break his midnight rest.

THE AUTUMN MUSIC OF THE CHASE; EUSTON; FITZROY ; HOUND AND HORN.

Bereft of song, and ever cheering green, The soft endearments of the Summer scene, New harmony pervades the solemn wood, Dear to the soul, and healthful to the blood: For bold exertion follows on the sound

Of distant sportsmen, and the chiding hound;
First heard from kennel bursting, mad with joy,
Where smiling Euston boasts her good Fitzroy,
Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend;
The farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend ;
Whose mansion glittering with the eastern ray,
Whose elevated temple points the way,

O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride,
To where the victims of the chase reside,
Ingulfed in earth, in conscious safety warm,
Till, lo! a plot portends their coming harm.

THE FOX-HUNT; THE FOX BLOCKED OUT; STARTED FROM COVER; THE VIEW-HALLOO.

In earliest hours of dark, unhooded morn, Ere yet one rosy cloud bespeaks the dawn, Whilst far abroad the fox pursues his prey, He's doomed to risk the perils of the day, From his strong hold blocked out; perhaps to bleed, Or owe his life to fortune or to speed. For now the pack, impatient rushing on, Range through the darkest coverts one by one; Trace every spot; whilst down each noble glade, That guides the eye beneath a changeful shade, The loitering sportsman feels the instinctive flame, And checks his steed to mark the springing game. Midst intersecting cuts and winding ways The huntsman cheers his dogs, and anxious strays Where every narrow riding, even shorn, Gives back the echo of his mellow horn: Till fresh and lightsome, every power untried, The starting fugitive leaps by his side, His lifted finger to his ear he plies, And the View-halloo bids a chorus rise

Of dogs quick-mouthed and shouts that mingle loud, As bursting thunder rolls from cloud to cloud.

THE HORSE IN THE CHASE; THE VILLAGERS TURN OUT. With ears erect, and chest of vigorous mould, O'er ditch, o'er fence, unconquerably bold, The shining courser lengthens every bound, And his strong foot-locks suck the moistened ground, As from the confines of the wood they pour, And joyous villages partake the roar. O'er heath far stretched, or down, or valley low, The stiff-limbed peasant, glorying in the show, Pursues in vain; where youth itself soon tires, Spite of the transports that the chase inspires; For who unmounted long can charm the eye, Or hear the music of the leading cry?

THE FOX-HOUND TROUNCER; HIS EXPLOITS.

Poor faithful Trouncer! thou canst lead no more; All thy fatigues and all thy triumphs o'er ! Triumphs of worth, whose honorary fame Was still to follow true the hunted game; Beneath enormous oaks, Britannia's boast, In thick, impenetrable coverts lost, When the warm pack in faltering silence stood, Thine was the note that roused the listening wood, Rekindling every joy with ten-fold force, Through all the mazes of the tainted course. Still foremost thou the dashing stream to cross, And tempt along the animated horse; Foremost o'er fen or level mead to pass, And sweep the showering dew-drops from the grass; Then bright emerging from the mist below To climb the woodland hill's exulting brow.

Hours now in darkness veiled; yet loud the scream
Of geese impatient for the playful stream;
And all the feathered tribe imprisoned raise
Their morning notes of inharmonious praise ;
And many a clamorous hen and cockerel gay,
When daylight slowly through the fog breaks way,
Fly wantonly abroad: but, ah, how soon
The shades of twilight follow hazy noon,
Shortening the busy day!- day that slides by
Amidst the unfinished toils of husbandry;
Toils still each morn resumed with double care,
To meet the icy terrors of the year,

To meet the threats of Boreas undismayed,
And Winter's gathering frowns and hoary head.

WELCOME TO WINTER; HOPE FOR THE POOR.

Then welcome, cold; welcome, ye snowy nights! Heaven, midst your rage, shall mingle pure delights, And confidence of hope the soul sustain, While devastation sweeps along the plain : Nor shall the child of poverty despair,

But bless the Power that rules the changing year; Assured, though horrors round his cottage reign, — That Spring will come, and Nature smile again.

**

Now lay up thy barley-land, dry as ye can,
Get daily beforehand, be never behind. **
Green rye in September, when timely thou hast,
October for wheat-sowing calleth as fast:
If weather will suffer, this counsel I give,
Leave sowing of wheat, before Hallowmas eve.2**
Yet where, how and when ye intend to begin,
Let ever the finest be first sowen in.
Who soweth in rain, he shall reap it with tears;
Who soweth in harms, he is ever in fears;
Who soweth ill seed, or defraudeth his land,
Hath eyesore abroad, with a corrie at hand. **
Seed husbandly sowen, water-furrow thy ground,
That rain, when it cometh, may run away round. **
As land full of tilth, and in hearty good plight,
Yields blade to a length, and increaseth in might;
So crop upon crop, on whose courage we doubt,
Yields blade for a brag, but it holdeth not out.
The straw and the ear to have bigness and length
Betokeneth land to be good and in strength. * *
White wheat or else red, red rivet or white,
Far passeth all other, for land that is light;
White pollard or red, that so richly is set,
For land that is heavy, is best ye can get.
Main wheat, that is mixed with white and with red,
Is next to the best, in the market-man's head:
To Turkey or Purkey wheat many do love,
Because it is floury, as others above.
Gray wheat is the grossest, yet good for the clay,
Though worst for the market, as farmer will say;
Much like unto rye, be his properties found,
Coarse flour, much bran, and a peeler3 of ground.
Oats, rye, or else barley, and wheat that is gray,
Brings land out of comfort, and soon to decay.

1 To lay up' is to cover the ridge baulk by two opposite furrows, to shed water.

2 Wheat is sown in England from mid-August to midDecember, but chiefly in October; the compiler has sown winter-wheat in northern Illinois as late as Nov. 13. — J. 3 To 'peel' is to spend or exhaust.

6

One after another, no comfort between,
Is crop upon crop, as will quickly be seen.
Still crop upon crop many farmers do take,
And reap little profit, for greediness' sake. [stand,
Though bread-corn and drink-corn,1 such croppers do
Count peason or brank,2 as a comfort to land. **
Some useth at first a good fallow to make,3
To sow thereon barley, the better to take
Next that to sow peas, and of that to sow wheat,
Then fallow again, or lie lay for thy neat.4
When barley ye sow, after rye or else wheat,
If land be unlusty, the crop is not great. * *
Where rye, or else wheat, either barley, ye sow,
Let codware be next, thereupon for to grow.
Two crops
of a fallow enricheth the plough ;
Though t' one be of peas, it is land good enough.
One crop and a fallow some soil will abide,
When, if ye go further, lay profit aside. * *
Good bread-corn and drink-corn full twenty weeks
Is better than new, that at harvest is reapt; [kept
But foisty the bread-corn, and bowd-eaten 7 malt,
For health or for profit, find noisome thou shalt.
By the end of October go gather up sloes,
Have thou in a readiness plenty of those;
And keep them in bed-straw, or still on the bough,
To stay both the flix,s of thyself and the cow.
Seeth water and plump therein plenty of sloes;
Mix chalk that is dried, in powder with those;
Which so, if ye give, with the water and chalk,
Thou makest the lax from thy cow away walk.
Be suer of vergis9 (a gallon at least),
So good for the kitchen, so needful for beast:
It helpeth thy cattle, so feeble and faint,
If timely such cattle with it thou acquaint.

RAMSAY'S "RICHY AND SANDY."1

ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON.

RICHY.

That's true indeed! But now thae days are gane, And, with him, a' that's pleasant on the plain. A summer day I never thought it lang,

To hear him make a roundel or a sang.

How sweet he sung where vines and myrtles grow,
Of wimbling waters which in Latium flow. 2
Titry the Mantuan herd, wha lang sinsyne
Best sung on aeten reed the lover's pine,
Had he been to the fore now in our days,
Wi' Adie he had frankly dealt his bays.
As lang 's the warld shall Amaryllis ken,
His Rosamond 3 shall echo through the glen;
While on burn banks the yellow gowan grows,
Or wand'ring lambs rin bleating after ewes,
His fame shall last; last shall his sang of weirs,4
While British bairns brag of their bauld forbears.
We'll meikle miss his blyth and witty jest,
At spaining time, or at our Lambmass feast.

1 Sir Richard Steele and Mr. Alexander Pope.

2 His poetic epistle from Italy to the Earl of Halifax.

3 An opera written by him. 4 His Campaign,' a poem.

O, Richy! but 't is hard that Death aye reaves
Away the best fowk, and the ill anes leaves !
Hing down yer heads, ye hills; greet out, ye springs;
Upon yer edge na mair the shepherd sings!

RICHY.

Then he had aye a good advice to gie, And kend my thoughts amaist as well as me. Had I been thowless, vext, or oughtlins sour, He wad have made me blyth in half an hour; Had Rosie ta'en the dorts, or had the tod Worry'd my lambs, or were my feet ill-shod, Kindly he'd laugh when sae he saw me dwine, And talk of happiness like a divine. Of ilka thing he had an unco' skill; He kend by moonlight how tides ebb and fill; He kend (what kend he no ?) e'en to a hair He'd tell or night gin neist day wad be fair. Blind John, ye mind, wha sung in kittle phrase, How the ill sp'rit did the first mischief raise; Mony a time, beneath the auld birk-tree, What's bonny in that sang he loot me see. The lasses aft flung down their rakes and pails, And held their tongues, O strange ! to hear his tales.

SANDY.

Sound be his sleep, and saft his wak'ning be! He's in a better case than thee or me.

-

He was o'er good for us; the gods hae ta'en
Their ain but back, he was a borrowed len.
Let us be good, gin virtue be our drift,
Then we may yet forgether 'boon the lift.
But see,
the sheep are wysing to the cleugh;
Thomas has loos'd his ousen frae the pleugh;
Maggy by this has bewk the supper-scones;
And muckle kye stand rowting in the loans;
Come, Richy, let us truse and hame o'er bend,
And make the best of what we canna mend.

1 The famous Milton; he was blind.

GLOSSARY.-Gars, causes; dowf, dull; aboon, above; mane, moan; aught, eight; unco, very; jo, sweetheart; bogle-bo, bugbear spirit; glowrin, staring; fleg, fright; dauted, fondled; wedder, wether; eith, easily; meikle mair, much more; remead, remedy; had, hold; laids, loads; feckless, feeble; wyt, shun, remove; kent, shepherd's staff; coly, shepherd's dog; bent, open field; bught, sheepfold, pen; roundel, roundelay; wimbling, winding; sinsyne, since; aeten, oaten; to the fore, still remaining, surviving, unspent ; ken, know; burn, stream; gowan, daisy; rin, run; weirs, wars; bairns, children; forbears, forefathers; meikle, much; spaining, weaning; reaves, robs; greet, weep; gie, give; thowless, inactive; oughtlins, any little; wad, would; dorts, dumps; tod, fox; dwine, cause to languish; ilka, every; or, ere; gin, if; neist, next; kittle, enlivening; birk, birch; bonny, good; loot, let; ain, own; forgether aboon the lift, come together above the sky; wysing, tending; cleugh, cliff, hollow be tween precipices, nook; ousen, oxen; bewk, baked; scones, cakes; muckle kye, many cows; rowting, bellowing; loans, openings between fields, through which cattle come up; truse, leave off; canna, cannot; bend, field. See p. 186.

EXERCISE.

APOLOGETIC; THE DIFFICULTY OF THE SUBJECT.-NICE RULES ARE FOR THE DELICATE, NOT THE STRONG. THROUGH various toils th' adventurous Muse has

past;

But half the toil, and more than half, remains.
Rude is her theme, and hardly fit for song;
Plain and of little ornament; and I

But little practised in the Aonian arts:
Yet not in vain such labors have we tried,
If aught these lays the fickle Health confirm.
To you, ye delicate! I write; for you
I tame my youth to philosophic cares,
And grow still paler by the midnight lamp.
Not to debilitate with timorous rules
A hardy frame; nor needlessly to brave
Inglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength,
Is all the lesson that in wholesome years
Concerns the strong. His care were ill bestowed
Who would with warm effeminacy nurse

The thriving oak which, on the mountain's brow,
Bears all the blasts that sweep the wintry heaven.

HEALTH OF THE LABORER. INDIFFERENT TO CHANGES.

Behold the laborer of the glebe who toils In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies: Save but the grain from mildews and the flood, Naught anxious he what sickly stars ascend. He knows no laws by Esculapius given; He studies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs Infest, nor those envenomed shafts that fly When rapid Sirius fires the autumnal noon. His habit pure with plain and temperate meals, Robust with labor, and by custom steeled To every casualty of varied life; Serene he bears the peevish eastern blast, And uninfected breathes the mortal south.

THE REWARDS OF SIMPLICITY, SOBRIETY, AND EXERCISE. Such the reward of rude and sober life; Of labor such. By health the peasant's toil Is well repaid; if exercise were pain Indeed, and temperance pain. By arts like these Laconia nursed of old her hardy sons; And Rome's unconquered legions urged their way, Unhurt, through every toil in every clime.

TOIL, AND BE STRONG. VARIOUS EXERCISE.

Toil, and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone; The greener juices are by toil subdued, Mellowed, and subtilized; the vapid old Expelled, and all the rancor of the blood.

Come, my companions, ye who feel the charms
Of nature and the year; come, let us stray
Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk :
Come, while the soft voluptuous breezes fan
The fleecy heavens, enwrap the limbs in balm,
And shed a charming languor o'er the soul.
Nor when bright Winter sows with prickly frost
The vigorous ether, in unmanly warmth
Indulge at home; nor even when Eurus' blasts
This way and that convolve the laboring woods.
My liberal walks, save when the skies in rain
Or fogs relent, no season should confine
Or to the cloistered gallery or arcade.
Go, climb the mountain; from the ethereal source
Imbibe the recent gale. The cheerful morn
Beams o'er the hills; go, mount the exulting steed.
Already, see, the deep-mouthed beagles catch
The tainted mazes; and, on eager sport
Intent, with emulous impatience try
Each doubtful trace. Or, if a nobler prey
Delight you more, go chase the desperate deer;
And through its deepest solitudes awake
The vocal forest with the jovial horn.

[bounds

ANGLING RECOMMENDED FOR GENTLER EXERCISE. TRENT;
EDEN; ESK. LIDDAL, AND THE AUTHOR'S CHILDHOOD.
But if the breathless chase o'er hill and dale
Exceed your strength, a sport of less fatigue,
Nor less delightful, the prolific stream
Affords. The crystal rivulet, that o'er
A stony channel rolls its rapid maze,
Swarms with the silver fry. Such, through the
Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent;
Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains; such
The Esk, o'erhung with woods; and such the stream
On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air,
Liddal; till now, except in Doric lays
Tuned to her murmurs by her love-sick swains,
Unknown in song: though not a purer stream,
Through meads more flowery, more romantic groves,
Rolls towards the western main. Hail, sacred flood!
May still thy hospitable swains be blest
In rural innocence; thy mountains still
Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods
Forever flourish; and thy vales look gay
With painted meadows, and the golden grain!
Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new,
Sportive and petulant, and charmed with toys,
In thy transparent eddies have I laved
Oft traced with patient steps thy fairy banks,
With the well-imitated fly to hook
The eager trout, and with the slender line

And yielding rod solicit to the shore

The struggling, panting prey: while vernal clouds
And tepid gales obscured the ruffled pool,
And from the deeps called forth the wanton swarms.

GARDENING A LIGHT EXERCISE FOR CERTAIN TASTES.

Formed on the Samian school, or those of Ind,2
There are who think these pastimes scarce humane.
Yet in my mind—and not relentless I-
His life is pure that wears no fouler stains.
But if, through genuine tenderness of heart,
Or secret want of relish for the game,
You shun the glories of the chase, nor care
To haunt the peopled stream; the garden yields
A soft amusement, an humane delight.
To raise the insipid nature of the ground;
Or tame its savage genius to the grace
Of careless sweet rusticity, that seems
The amiable result of happy chance,
Is to create; and gives a godlike joy,

Which every year improves. Nor thou disdain
To check the lawless riot of the trees,

To plant the grove, or turn the barren mould.

HAPPINESS OF THE GARDENER, RETIRED, WITH FRIENDS AND
MEANS. FRIENDLY RIVALRY IN GARDENING.

O happy he! whom, when his years decline
(His fortune and his fame by worthy means
Attained, and equal to his moderate mind;
His life approved by all the wise and good,
Even envied by the vain), the peaceful groves
Of Epicurus, from this stormy world,
Receive to rest; of all ungrateful cares
Absolved, and sacred from the selfish crowd.
Happiest of men! if the same soil invites
A chosen few, companions of his youth,
Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends;
With whom, in easy commerce, to pursue
Nature's free charms, and vie for sylvan fame :
A fair ambition; void of strife or guile,
Or jealousy, or pain to be outdone.

Who plans th' enchanted garden, who directs
The visto best, and best conducts the stream;
Whose groves the fastest thicken and ascend;
Who first the welcome Spring salutes; who shows
The earliest bloom, the sweetest, proudest charms
Of Flora; who best gives Pomona's juice
To match the sprightly genius of Champagne.

EVENINGS OF WINTER SPENT SENSIBLY.

Thrice happy days! in rural business past;
Blest winter nights! when, as the genial fire
Cheers the wide hall, his cordial family
With soft domestic arts the hours beguile,
And pleasing talk that starts no timorous fame,
With witless wantonness to hunt it down :
Or through the fairy-land of tale or song,
Delighted, wander, in fictitious fates
Engaged, and all that strikes humanity :
Till, lost in fable, they the stealing hour
Of timely rest forget. Sometimes, at eve,

12 Pythagoras of Samos was a vegetarian, and so the Bramins.

His neighbors lift the latch, and bless unbid
His festal roof; while, o'er the light repast,
And sprightly cups, they mix in social joy;
And, through the maze of conversation, trace
Whate'er amuses or improves the mind.
Sometimes at eve (for I delight to taste
The native zest and flavor of the fruit,

Where sense grows wild and takes of no manure),
The decent, honest, cheerful husbandman
Should drown his labor in my friendly bowl;
And at my table find himself at home.

CHOOSE THAT KIND OF EXERCISE THAT IS MOST AGREEABLE.

Whate'er you study, in whate'er you sweat,
Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils;
The tennis some; and some the graceful dance.
Others, more hardy, range the purple heath,
Or naked stubble; where from field to field
The sounding coveys urge their laboring flight:
Eager amid the rising cloud to pour

The gun's unerring thunder; and there are
Whom still the meed of the green archer charms.
He chooses best, whose labor entertains

His vacant fancy most: the toil you hate
Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs.

DIRECTING HOW GRADUALLY TO STRENGTHEN WEAKER MEM-
BERS OR ORGANS. THE RACER.

As beauty still has blemish; and the mind
The most accomplished its imperfect side;
Few bodies are there of that happy mould
But some one part is weaker than the rest :
The legs, perhaps, or arms, refuse their load,
Or the chest labors. These assiduously,
But gently, in their proper arts employed,
Acquire a vigor and elastic spring

To which they were not born. But weaker parts
Abhor fatigue and violent discipline.

Begin with gentle toils; and, as your nerves Grow firm, to hardier by just steps aspire. The prudent, even in every moderate walk, At first but saunter; and by slow degrees Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wise Well knows the master of the flying steed. First from the goal the managed coursers play On bended reins; as yet the skilful youth Repress their foamy pride; but every breath The race grows warmer, and the tempest swells; Till all the fiery mettle has its way, And the thick thunder hurries o'er the plain.

EFFECTS OF TOO SUDDEN EXERCISE. COUGH. — ASTHMA. —

PNEUMONIA, ETC.

When all at once from indolence to toil You spring, the fibres by the hasty shock Are tired and cracked, before their unctuous coats, Compressed, can pour the lubricating balm. Besides, collected in the passive veins,

The purple mass a sudden torrent rolls,

1 This word is much used by some of the old English poets, and signifies reward or prize.