COLLOQUIA ENTOMOLOGICA, 495 



" To huild myself, in gentle hearts, 

 A shrine of lasting memory." 



But I think, after all, it is to the study of Entomology, as a 

 science, that your observations will most forcibly apply. 



Tyro. Well, I hardly know ; though I have sometimes 

 thought, as I have been resting in the shade of some lofty — 



Ent. — 



" Qua pinus ingens, albaque populus 

 Umbram hospitalem consociare amant 

 Raucis ; at obliquo laborat 



Lympha fugax trepidare rivo." 



Tyro. Leave out the poplar and it will do very well, even 

 to the Lympha fugax ; for, where I lay, the sleep-inviting 

 murmur of a viewless stream falls gently on the ear. I was 

 just thinking of a favourite spot. 



Ent. Where ? 



Tyro. Oh, just by us. Mij pine stands on a little knoll, 

 overlooking a beautiful piece of water that, almost surrounded 

 by woods, seems to repose on the green lap of the forest: on 

 one side is a hill which, after many an undulating swell, slopes 

 gradually off to the water's edge ; and so deep is its repose, 

 one feels some difficulty in persuading oneself that the wood 

 ends with the bank, as it is reflected on the bosom of the quiet 

 lake. 



Ent. You forget the trees must be upside down — a posi- 

 tion which wptdd be very unpicturesque. 



Tyro. Oh ! you don't know the place, so you can hardly 

 judge. I must tell you, my position is some considerable height 

 above the water, and looks down abruptly on it, for the hill 

 just here on this side suddenly becomes precipitous ; the bank 

 rises, rampart-like, from the water, and, on the opposite side, 

 the margin is fringed with low-growing trees and shrubs, so 

 that no deflected stems appear in the lake, to prove it an illusion, 

 which is, indeed, so perfect as would need immersion to dispel, 

 if it were not for that pair of swans which, more like appa- 

 ritions than material beings, noiseless as a mist-wreath floating 

 across the midnight sky, move, queen-like, along, and scarcely 

 disturb the sleeping surface of that dark silent flood ; the 

 ripple in their wake dying ere it reach those Nymphce lidece, 

 which, with their broad island-like leaves, the resort of water- 

 beetles, and golden flowers rising up amongst them, like the 



