While high in air, and poised upon his wings 



Unseen, the soft enamour'd wood-lark sings : "^ 



These, Nature's works, the curious mind employ, 



Inspire a soothing, melancholy joy : 



As fancy warms a pleasing kind of pain 



Steals o'er the cheek, and thrills the creeping vein ! 



Each rural sight, each sound, each smell com- 

 bine ; 

 The tinkling sheep-bell, or the breath of kine ; 

 The new-mown hay that scents the swelling breeze, 

 Or cottage-chimney smoking thro' the trees. 



The chilling night-dews fall : . . . . away, retire. 

 What time the glow-worm lights her amorous fire, f 



Selborne : Nov: 3 : 1774. 



Dear Sam, 



When I sat down to write to you in verse, my 

 whole design was to shew you at once how easy a 

 thing it might be with a little care for a Nephew to 

 excell his Uncle in the business of versification : but 

 as you have fully answered that intent by your late 

 excellent lines; you must for the future excuse my 

 replying in the same way, and make some allowance 

 for the difference of our ages. 



* In hot summer nights woodlarks soar to a prodigious height, and 

 hang singing in the air. 



f The light of the glow-worm is a signal to her paramour, a slender 

 dusky scarab. 



202 



