XX11 PREFACE. 



We should be tempted to dwell longer here, but 

 as we have further to go, we will not linger, but 

 set sail for yon little island : 



" It was a chosen plot of fertile land 

 Emongst wide waves set like a little nest, 

 As if it had by Nature's cunning hand 

 Been choicely picked out from all the rest, 

 And laid forth for ensample of the best : 

 No dainty flower or herb that grows on ground, 

 No arboret with painted blossoms dress'd, 

 And smelling sweet, but there it might be found 



To bud out fair, and throw her sweet smells all around. 



No tree whose branches did not bravely spring ; 

 No branch whereon a fine bird did not sit ; 

 No bird but did her shrill notes sweetly sing ; 

 No song but did contain a lovely dit." 



A wood or a grove would seem imperfectly re- 

 presented if it were not loud with music: the 

 cheerful notes of birds joying in the sunshine are 

 always enlivening, and they have been repaid by 

 the poets with immortal honours. Spenser conveys 

 the wounded squire to such a charming place, 

 that he could scarcely need any other cure than 

 to dwell there : 



" Into that forest far they thence him led, 

 Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade, 



