198 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
not from the merit of the poem, that Dr. Hake is 
a bad naturalist, even as Shakespeare and Brown- 
ing and Tennyson were, and draws his snake badly, 
with venomous stinging tongue, and flaming eyes 
that fascinate at too great a distance. Fables 
notwithstanding, he has with the poet’s insight, 
in a moment of rare inspiration, captured the very 
illusive spirit of Nature, to make it pervade and 
glorify his picture. The sunny, brilliant, declining 
day, the joyous wild melody of birds, the low 
whispering wind, the cool greenness of earth, 
where 
The pool is bright with glossy dyes 
And cast-up bubbles of decay: 
and everywhere, hidden in grass and brake, re- 
leased at length from the spell that made them 
powerless, coming ever nearer and nearer, yet as 
though they came not, the subtle, silent, watchful 
snakes. Strangely real and vivid is the picture 
conjured up; the everlasting life and gladness at 
the surface, the underlying mystery and melan- 
choly—the failing power of the old man and 
vanishing incantation; the tremendous retribution 
of Nature, her ministers of vengeance ever imper- 
ceptibly gliding nearer. 
Yet where his soul is he must go, 
albeit now only to be mocked on the scene of his 
old beloved triumphs: 
For all that live in brake and bough— 
‘All know the brand is on his brow. 
