xix 



Words worth speaks somewhere of tlie tenderness 

 of feeling excited by trees and flowers, a tenderness 

 which, in the absence of those we love, is often 

 wasted on the senseless weed. It is a conviction 

 of this kindly influence of nature that has embold- 

 ened the writer to bring the most opposite parties 

 together amid these woody scenes ; not hesitating 

 even to place Mr. Southey by the side of Lord 

 Byron, without fear of the consequences, but rather 

 indulging a faint hope that they may shake hands 

 and be friends before they return to the irritating 

 bustle of towns and cities. 



" The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns." 



Who does not feel the truth of these beautiful 

 lines of Coleridge ? 



" A green and silent spot, amid the hills, 

 A small and silent dell ! o'er stiller place 

 No singing sky-lark ever poised himself. 



. The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope, 

 Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on, 

 All golden with the never bloomless furze, 

 Which now blooms most profusely ; but the dell, 

 Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate 

 As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax, 

 When, through its half-transparent stalks at eve, 

 The level sunshine glimmers with green light. 



b2 



