180 JUNE. 



ed gold, the deepest mazarine blue fading away 

 into the highest heavens, to the palest azure ; 

 and an ocean of purple is flung over the twi- 

 light-woods, or the far-stretching and lonely 

 horizon. The heart of the spectator is touch- 

 ed: it is melted and wrapped into dreams of 

 past and present pure, elevated, and tinged 

 with a poetic tenderness, which can never 

 awake amid the crowds of mortals or of books. 



The state of nature I have described is just 

 that which might be supposed to exist with 

 perpetual summer : there are sunshine, beauty, 

 and abundance, without a symptom of decay. 

 But this will not last. We soon perceive the 

 floridity of nature merging into a verdant mo- 

 notony : we find a silence stealing over the 

 landscape, so lately filled with the voice of 

 every creature's exultation. The nightingale 

 is gone, and the cuckoo will depart in less time 

 than is allowed him in the peasant's tradition- 

 ary calendar. 



In April the cuckoo shows his bill ; 

 In May he sings both night and day ; 

 In June he altereth his tune ; 

 In July away he '11 fly ; 

 In August go he must. 



