THE COPSE. 265 



whose continuous song lias a more refreshing 

 sound than the buzzing vagrant fly, which wantons 

 in the glare of day ; and, as Milton expresses it, 



' Winds her sultry horn.' 



In distant landscape, the copse has seldom any 

 effect. The beauty of wood in a distant view, 

 arises, in some degree, from its tuftings, which 

 break and enrich the lights — but chiefly from its. 

 contrast with the plain — and from the grand 

 shapes and forms occasioned by the retiring and 

 advancing parts of the forest, which produce 

 vast masses of light and shade, and give effect to 

 the whole. 



These beauties appear, rarely, in the copse. 

 Instead of that rich and tufted bed of foliage, 

 which the distant forest exhibits, the copse pre- 

 sents a meagre and unaccommodating surface. It 

 is age which gives the tree its tufted form, and 

 the forest its effect. A nursery of saplings pro- 

 duce it not, and the copse is little more. Nor 

 does the intermixture of full-grown trees assist 

 the appearance. Their clumpy heads blend ill 

 with the spiry tops of the juniors. Neither have 



It 2' 



