DECEMBER. 



GAWAIN DOUGLAS, the celebrated Bishop of 

 Dunkeld, has given the following most excel- 

 lent sketch of Winter ; which Warton has ren- 

 dered from antiquated Scotch verse into good 

 modern English prose. " The fern withered on 

 the miry fallows, the brown moors assumed a 

 barren mossy hue ; banks, sides of hills, and 

 bottoms grew white and bare; the cattle looked 

 hoary from the dank weather; the wind made the 

 red reed waver on the dyke. From the crags, and 

 the foreheads of the yellow rocks, hung great 

 icicles, in length like a spear. The soil was dusky 

 and grey, bereft of flowers, herbs, and grass. In 

 every hold and forest, the woods were stripped 

 of their array. Boreas blew his bugle horn so 

 loud, that the solitary deer withdrew to the 

 dales ; the small birds nocked to the thick bri- 

 ars, shunning the tempestuous blast, and chang- 



