xxxvni PREFACE. 



Hanging on their velvet heads 

 Like a rope of crystal beads." 



FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS. 



ff The air was cooling, and so very still, 



That the sweet buds which with a modest pride 

 Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, 

 Their scantly-leaved and finely-tapering stems 

 Had not yet lost those starry diadems 

 Caught from the early sobbing of the morn." 



KEATS. 



" Dew-drops like diamonds hung on every tree, 

 And sprinkled silvery lustre o'er the lea ; 

 And all the verdurous herbage of the ground 

 Was decked with pearls which cast a splendour round ; 

 The flowers, the buds, and every plant that grew 

 Sipp'd the fresh fragrance of the morning dew. 

 In every plant the liquid nectar flowed, 

 In every bud, and every flower that blowed ; 

 Here roved the busy bees without control, 

 Robbed the sweet bloom, and sucked its balmy soul." 



GAWIN DOUGLAS, MODERNIZED BY FAWKES. 



We seldom see a parterre of flowers, on a fine summer's 

 day, in which the butterfly and the bee are not present, 



" Feeding upon their pleasures bounteously." 



The murmur of bees is a grateful sound it tells of 

 sunshine and sweet odours ; it is one of those gentler tones 

 of nature's voice which have a kind and soothing influence 

 on the spirits ; like the whisper of a gentle air among the 

 leaves ; the sigh of the long grass, as it bends before the 

 breeze ; or the murmur of a neighbouring runnel. It could 

 not then be overlooked by the poet : 



" Him to soft slumbers call 

 The babbling brooks, the fall 

 Of silver fountains, and the unstudied hymns 

 Of cageless birds, iWhose throats 

 Pour forth the sweetest notes ; 

 Shrill through the crystal air the music swim& ; 



