IIow shall I introduce you to this heavenly 

 month— blight May, the incentive of all Poe- 

 try, of Painting, and of Music ? Each dormant 

 energy is now called forth, and bid to welcome 

 e'en the name of May. The husbandman 

 begins his song, the Angler casts aside his 

 warmer clothing, the Poet meditates new lays, 

 the Painter sets forth upon his voyage of dis- 

 covery, the Musician is inspired by vocal wood- 

 lands, and the World indeed is busy giving 

 cheerful welcome to this harbinger of heaven 

 on earth. Now would I sketch my favourite 

 haunts of last spring's rambles : the shady 

 lane, the mill upon the brook, the busy hive 

 that warned my idle curiosity, the rising 

 plant, young avenue of trees, all that I had 



