COLLOQUIA ENTOMOLOGICA. 325 



Ent. There's gibberish ! The unknown tongue, no doubt. 

 Rus. {musingly.) 



The crimson rose, the bulbul's bride, 



The purple violet in the shade. 

 The lily white, the maiden's pride. 



Alike are bright, alike must fade. 

 The beauteous flake of purest snow 

 Its veiy being must forego. 



Erro. Yes, Doctor, that's it; and seeing any thing 

 perishing makes me melancholy ; it tells me that I too am 

 perishing ; that youth, though pleasing, is soon gone ; it seems 

 to make me feel how little hold we have of this world ; and 

 that, short as is our time here, our pleasures must be shorter 

 still ; — and beyond this world, what are my prospects ? If now 

 I look back with regret at the past, what would be my feelings 

 in a future state of existence ! — for there is a future. I have 

 done nothing — not one good action, that is for the general 

 good of mankind ! — and that. Doctor, is the only true source 

 of pleasure, and should be our aim in every thing. 



Ent. Erro, you extract poison from the most delicious 

 flowers ; you gorge yourself with vapourings and musings, 

 which, though pleasing, from your love of melancholy, vitiate 

 your taste for the wholesome exercise of your powers. Awake, 

 man, awake ! Arouse yourself ! Up — up ; constant mental 

 occupation is the surest, the safest source of earthly happi- 

 ness. 



Rus. Yes ; and if your soul longs to hold communion with 

 Nature, go into the fields and the forests of England ; she 

 has not deserted them ; fret not for ideal regions. 



Erro. Ideal ! There is an intensity of truth in all I think 

 or say of them. Then would the publication of my disco- 

 veries do no good? 



Rus. You might do as much here : it has been my aim 

 also to do good after my own measure ; little is expected from 

 him who little has : from my infancy I have delighted to be 

 alone with Nature; there is a sound of sweet music in her 

 voice; and the pleasure that she gives me I have tried to 

 impart to others ; — but what can the pen do, when the heart 

 is overflowing? O, could I find words to describe all that I 

 have seen and noted, there should be no end of the letters of 



