PINE TREE. 315 



Broke only by the melancholy sound 



Of drowsy bells for ever tinkling round ; 



Faint wail of eagle melting into blue 



Beneath the cliffs, and pine-woods' steady sugh*." 



Barry Cornwall makes frequent allusions to this 

 poetical language of the woods : 



" And when the tempest of November blew 

 The winter trumpet, till its failing breath 

 Went moaning into silence, every green 

 And loose leaf of the piny boughs did tell 

 Some trembling story of that mountain dell." 



Sicilian Story. 



Speaking of Polypheme, he says 



" mighty tears then filled 



His solitary eye, and with such noise 

 As the rough winds of autumn make, when they 

 Pass o'e~ a forest, and bend down the pines, 

 The giant sighed." 



Death of Acis. 



There dark trees 



Funereal, (cypress, yew, and shadowy pine, 

 And spicy cedar), clustered, and at night 

 Shook from their melancholy branches sounds 

 And sighs like death." 



And a little farther on 



and when the rising moon 



Flames down the avenue of pines, and looks 

 Red and dilated through the evening mists, 

 And chequered as the heavy branches sway 



* The reader will most probably remember that this word, sugh, 

 so expressive of this whispering of leaves in the wind, is a Scotch 

 word. 



