And evermore, with most varietie 



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

 He casts his glutton sense to satisfie, 



Now sucking of the sap of berbe most meet 

 Or of the dew, which yet on them doth lie 



Now in the same bathing his tender feet : 

 And then he percheth on some branch thereby, 

 To oeatteu 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 pUied and fed at fill 

 In the warme suime he doth himself embay, 



And then him rests in riotous suffisaunoe 



Of all bis 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. 



SPENSEB. 



The helpless crawling caterpillar 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. 

 Deep under earth his darkening course he bends. 

 And to the tomb, a willing guest, descends. 

 T^ere, long secluded, in his lonely cell, 

 Forgets the sun, and bids the world farewell. 

 O'er the wide wastes the wintry tempests reign, 

 And driving snows usurp the frozen plain : 

 In rain the tempest bents, the whirlwind blows; 

 No storms can violate his grtY-e's repose. 

 But when revol/ing months have won their way, 

 When smiie the woods, and when the zephyrs play, 

 Wlien 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 soars, 

 Gav nature's face with wanton glance explores ; 

 Proud of his varying beauties wings his way, 

 And spoils the fairest flowers, himself more fair than they. 



(From) HAWOBTII. 



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 tright, 

 Launched in full splendour on the day, 



Unconscious of a mother's care, 

 No infant wretchedness she knew ; 

 But as she felt the vernal air, 

 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 gold. 



Trembling with joy awhile she stood, 

 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 joya that spring can give. 

 Partal e what bounteous 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 store : 



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 hark ! while thus I musing stand, 

 Pours on the gale an airy note. 

 And breathing from a viewless hanu 

 Soft silvery tones ai ound 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 I 



" 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 hapless 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 ? 

 And shail no future morrow shed 

 On thee a beam of brighter glow ? 



" Is this ihe 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 ! high heir of heaven ! " 



(From) KIBBY and SriircB. 



Vanessa C-album with its wings closed. 



