50 . The Poets and Nature. 



' ' And when they paint the serpent's scaly pride, 



Their lines should hiss, their numbers smoothly glide." 



Abundant recognition, therefore, is given to the striking 

 grace with which these fearsome things sinuously glide, and 

 as if obeying the attraction of some invisible magnet rather 

 than progressing by any voluntary exercise of muscle, move 

 from place to place. Many fine images are thus suggested, 

 and finest of all is Keats : 



" At this, through all his bulk an agony 

 Crept gradual, from the feet into the crown ; 

 Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular 

 Making slow way, with head and neck convulsed 

 From overstrained might." 



But Virgil's fine picture of the wounded snake that 

 " drags its slow length along" has many admirers : 



" The trodden serpent on the grass 

 Long behind his wounded volume trails." 



That wonderfully poetical touch in Nature of placing 

 serpents in all her Edens, giving them the most exquisite 

 foliage and flowers for their ambush, is not wasted on poets. 

 But I cannot help thinking that they strike a false note when 

 they make the presence of the snake detract from the beauty 

 of the blossoms under which it hides. Roses, as Shakspeare 

 says, are not " deceitful " because the adder is beneath. The 

 contrast is itself sufficient, and if any moral is to be drawn, 

 it might better be one of apology for the dangerous reptile 

 in seeking such a resting-place than of reproach for the 

 innocent flower. The rose, curiously enough, is specially 

 selected as the serpent's retreat : 



" As poisonous serpents make their dread repose 

 Beneath the covert of the fragrant rose." 



Yet it is improbable that snakes often go to sleep under a 

 rose bush, except our own harmless reptile in England. 

 To tread on a serpent is proverbially perilous, but how ludi- 



