CHILD RE AN I; FLOWERS. 93 



frail mortality, exclaim, with the Prince of Den- 

 mark, " What a piece of work is manl How 

 noble in reason ! How infinite in faculties ! 

 in form and moving, how express and admirable ! 

 in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, 

 how like a god ! the beauty of the world ! the 

 paragon of animals !" 



But we are wandering from the path of our 

 subject, and must crave the reader's indulgence 

 while we retrace our steps, premising however, 

 that it will not be the last time, by many, that 

 we shall have occasion to do the like, being as 

 one who walketh in a pleasant garden, where 

 each fresh object holds out a greater temptation 

 than the last, to make us pause and examine its 

 beauties, until we become fairJy confused by 

 admiration, and dazzled with excess of light. 



" A mother kind walks forth in the even, 

 She, with her little son, for pleasure given 

 To tread the fringed banks of an amorous flood, 

 That with its music courts a sylvan wood; 

 There ever talking to her only bliss, 

 That now before, and now behind her is, 

 She stoops for flowers, the choicest may be had, 

 And bringing them to please her little lad, 



