And evermare, with most varietie 



And change of sweetness (tor all change is sweet), 

 He casts his g'utton sense to satisfie, 



Now sucking of the sap of terbe most meet 

 Or of the flew, which yet on them doth lie 



Now in the tame bathing his tender feet : 

 And then he peroheth on some branch thereby, 

 To neatteu him, and his moist wings to dry. 



And whatso else of virtue good or ill 

 Grew in the garden, fetched from far away 



Of every one he takes and tastes at will; 

 And on their pleasures greedily doth prey 



That when he hath both plaied and ied at fill 

 In the warme sunnc he doth himself embay, 



And then him rests in riotous sufasaunce 



Of all his gladfulness and kingly joyance. 



What more felicitie can fall to creature 



Than to enjoy delight with libertie 

 And to be lord of all the works of Nature ? 



To reign in the aire from the earth to highest skie, 

 To feed on flowers, and weedes of glorious feature ? 



To tike whatever thing doth please the eye ? 

 Who rests not pleased with such happiness 

 Well worthy he to taste of wretchedness. 



SPENSER. 



The helpless crawling caterpiller trace, 

 From the first period of his reptile race. 

 Cloth'd in dishonour, on the leafy spray 

 Unseen he wears his silent hours away ; 

 Till satiate grown of all that life supplies, 



Self-taught, the voluntary martyr dies. 

 ^ * . * . i % * 



Forgets the nn, and bids the world farewell. 

 O'er the wide wastes the wintry tempests reign, 

 And driving snows usurp the frozen plain : 

 In vain the temnest beats, the whirlwind blows; 

 No storms can violate his grave's repose. 

 But when revolving months have won their way, 

 When smiie the woods, and when the zephyrs play, 

 Wheii laughs the vivid world in summer's bloom, 

 He bursts; and flies triumphant from the tomb; 

 And while his new-born beauties he displays, 

 With conscious joy his altered form surveys. 

 Mark, while he moves amid the sunny beam, 

 O'er his soft wings the varying lustres gleam. 

 Launched into air, on purple plumes he soara, 

 Gav nature's face with wanton glance explores; 

 Proud of his varying beauties wings his way, 

 And spoils the fairest flowers, himself more t'air than they. 



(From) HAWOBTH. 



Dipt in the richest tincture of the skies, 

 Where light disports in ever mingling dyes, 

 While every beam new transient colour flings, 

 Colours that change whene'er they wave their wings. 



THE BUTTERFLY'S BIRTHDAY. 



When bursting forth to life and light, 

 The offspring of enraptured May, 

 The Butterfly on pinions I right, 

 Launched in full splendour on the day, 



Unconscious of a mother's care, 

 No infant wretchedness she knew ; 

 But as she fe't the vernal sir, 

 At once to full perfection grew. 



Her slender form, ethereal light, 

 Her velvet-textured wings infold ; 

 With all the rainbow's colours bright. 

 And dropt with spots of burnish' d goti 



.And felt the sun's enlivening ray ; 

 Drank from the skies the vital flood, 

 And wondered at her plumage gay ! 



And balanced oft her broidered wings, 

 Through fields of air prepared to sail : 

 Then on her vent'rous journey springs. 

 And floats along the rising gale 



Go, child of pleasure, range the fields, 

 Taste all the joys that spring can give. 

 Partake what bountepus'summer yields, 

 And live whilst yet 'tis thine to live. 



Go sip the rose's fragrant dew, 

 The hlly's honey'd cup explore, 

 From flower to flower the search renew, 

 And rifle all the woodbine's stoie : 



And let me trace thy vagrant flight, 

 Thy mom-nts, too, of short repose. 

 And mark thee then with fresh delight 

 Thy golden pinions ope and close. 



But bark ! while thus I musing stand, 

 Pours on the gale an airy note. 

 And breathing from a viewless hanu 

 Solt silvery tones around me float ! 



They cease but still a voice I hear, 

 A whispered voice of hope and joy, 

 " Thy hour of rest approaches near 

 Prepare thee, mortal thou must die 1 



" Yet start not ! on thy closing eyes 

 Another day shall still unfold, 

 A sun of milder radiance rise, 

 A happier age of joys untold. 



" Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight, 

 The humblest form in nature's train, 

 Thus rise in new-born lustre bright. 

 And yet the emblem teach in vain ? 



" Ah ! where were once her golden eyei 

 Her glitering wings of purple pride ? 

 Concealed beneath a rude disguise, 

 A shapeless mass to earth allied. 



" Like thee the haplejss reptile lived, 

 Like thee he toiled, like thee he spun, 

 Like thine his closing hour arrived 

 His labour ceased, his web was done. 



" And shalt thou, numbered with the dead, 

 No happier state of being know P 

 And shall no future morrow shed 

 On thee a beam of brighter glow ? 



" Is this the bound of power divine, 

 To animate an insect frame ? 

 Or shall not He who moulded thine 

 Wake at his will the vital flame ? 



" Go mortal ! in thy reptile state, 

 Enough to know to thee is given; 

 Go, and the joyful truth relate ; 

 Frail child of earth 1 high heir of heaven ! " 

 (From) EIBBY and 



Vanessa C-album with its wings closed. 



