ON THE CHARACTERISTICS OF TREES. 261 



the last advice of a father ere we sought other realms ; — the 

 shady walk where the evening star witnessed the first enthusiastic 

 declaration of a youthful but never-to-be-forgotten affection : — 

 the mansion concealed almost amid oaks or elms, where a brother 

 or uncle formerly resided — a home to us once, but a home no 

 more ! — the funereal gloom thrown over the cherished forms of 

 those that once loved us, now resting in peace, unconscious of our 

 woes ! — these are the materials upon which poetry works, and 

 largely draws upon our sympathies. She paints the "common lot," 

 tells us of our past joys, and we cannot but be impressed, because 

 we all deplore thelossof some past joy, that is alas! — irrecoverable. 

 How skilfully Cowper has worked up these feelings in describing 

 the simple fact of the destruction of a grove of poplars. 



" The poplars are fell'd, and adieu to the shade, 

 And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade." 



****** 



" Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view 

 Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew ; 

 And now in the grass behold they are laid, 

 And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade. 



My fugitive years are all hasting away, 

 And I must ere long \{e as lowly as they, 

 With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head, 

 Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead." 



We shall perhaps be as much affected if we consider the converse 

 of this, and contemplate a tree whose vast extent of shade has 

 overspread the earth centuries before we saw the light, and whose 

 immense bulk will still continue to resist the storms of winter ; 

 when all that we have loved are vanished from below, and when 

 we ourselves, and perhaps our very names and even nation, shall 

 have passed away. 



Our feelings may be also excited by the characteristic features 

 of trees. The first golden catkins of the sallow, produced in 

 early spring, when we saw the first butterfly of the year, or heard 

 the first hum of the bee; the oak beneath whose canopy of 

 verdure we have sheltered from the storm ; the long line of silvery 

 willows, disclosing the devious course of the brook, where we 

 have loitered or angled many an hour ; the flowering limes vocal 

 with unnumbered insects diffusing fragrance amidst the scorching 

 heats of summer ; and the beeches, with their bark indented 

 with a hundred letters carved by the hand of love or frolic;— 

 all produce a train of association that has only to be kindled 

 with the spark of poetry, to touch and warm our hearts. One 

 of the most beautiful episodes of Homer is that where Hector, 

 returning from the conflict to Troy, to direct an immediate 

 sacrifice to Pallas, finds all the Trojan females seated in security 

 (though almost within hearing of the slogan of war) beneath the 

 shade of the beech trees — 



