AN OCTOBER DAY'S RAMBLE. 531 



And oft I pause with thee to note* 

 Though not like thee of tuneful throat, 

 Or breast of ruddy plumage, him 

 The bird of graceful figure slim*, 

 And robe, and vest, and kerchief pied, 

 As to and fro, from side to side, 

 With quivering tail and forward head, 

 Quick runs he o'er the dewy mead, 

 And darts upon his insect prey : 

 Or mark the flocks of linnets grey 

 Start from the sheltering hedge beneath, 

 And flutter o'er the furze-clad heath. 

 See from their white-plum'd fronts are fled, 

 And dusky throats, the flaming red, 

 Till spring again with love illume 

 The lustre of each blood-bright plume. 



But stay ! O'er yonder lake the while 

 What bird, about that wooded isle, 

 With pendent feet, and pinions slow, 

 Is seen his ponderous length to row ? 

 'Tis the tall heron's awkward flight ; 

 His crest of black, and neck of white ; 

 Deep sunk his pale blue wings between ; 

 And giant legs of murky green. 

 His tribe is seaward far away : 

 But he remains, as peasants say, 

 About, a faithful guard to roam, 

 Till genial April call them home, 

 On their lov'd oaks' wide spreading crown 

 Aloft to build their close-set town. 

 So without words, by secret sign, 

 Speaks to their sense the voice divine ! 



And see, alarm'd, with upward wing, 

 As near we draw, the wild-ducks spring, 

 And through the sky tumultuous stream, 

 With outstretch'd neck, and noisy scream. 

 With silent flight across the pool 

 On wing and foot the gallinule 

 For safety flits to lowly bush, 

 Or lurks within the sheltering rush. 

 Thus nature prompts diverging ways : 

 Some soar expos'd to public gaze ; 



* Motacilla alba, (LiN.) M. O*O;-,(RENNIE.) Pied Wagtail, or Dish-washer. 



