93 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



DELIGHTS OF THE COUNTRY. 



AUGUST. 



BY JOHN CLARE. 



'Tis now the month of August : 

 Rich music breathes in summer's every sound; 



And in her harmony of varied greens, 

 Woods, meadows, hedge-rows, cornfields, all 

 around 

 Much beauty intervenes, 

 Filling with harmonv the ear and eye; 

 While o'er the mingling scenes 

 Far spreads the laughing sky. 



See, how the mind-enamored aspin leaves 

 Turn up their silver lining to the sun! 



And hark ! the rustling noise, that oft deceives, 

 And makes the sheep-boy run: 



The sound so mimics fast-approaching showers 

 He thinks the rain's begun, 



And hastes to sheltering bowers! 



But now the evening curdles dank and grey, 

 Changing her watchet hue for sombre weed ; 



And moping owls to close the lids of day, 

 On drowsy wing proceed; 



While checkering crickets, tremulous and long, 

 Light's farewell inly heed, 

 And give it parting song. 



The pranking bat its flighty circlet makes; 



The glow-worm burnishes its lamp anew; 

 O'er meadows dew-besprent, the beetle wakes 



Inquiries ever new, 

 Teasing each passing ear with murmurs vain, 



As wanting to pursue 



His homeward path again. 



Hark! 'tis the melody of distant bells 



That on the winds with pleasing hum 

 rebounds, 

 By fitful starts, then musically swells 



O'er the dim stilly grounds; 

 While o'er the meadow-bridge the pausing boy 

 Listens the mellow sounds, 

 And hums in vacant joy. 



Now, homeward-bound, the hedger bundles 

 round 

 His evening faggot, and with every stride 

 His leathern doublet leaves a rustling sound; 



Till silly sheep beside 

 His path start tremulously, and once again 

 Look back dissatisfied, 

 And scour the dewy plain. 



How sweet the soothing calmness that distils 

 O'er the heart's every sense its opiate dews, 



In meek-eyed moods and ever balmy trills! 

 That softens and subdues, 



With gentle Quiet's bland and sober train, — 

 Which dreamy eve renews 

 In many a mellow strain! 



I love to walk the fields, they are to me 



A legacy no evil can destroy ; 

 They, like a spell, set every rapture free 



That cheered me when a boy. 

 Play — pastime — all Time's blotting pen 

 conceal'd, 

 Come like a new-born joy 

 To greet me in the field. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



FLORA AND HER HAND-MAIDENS. 



BY HELEN HETHERTNGTON. 



Flora now dances on mead, moor, and 



mountain, 

 Lavishing favors wherever she goes, — 

 The sun-dew that rivals the pure crystal 



fountain, 

 Fusehia, Forget-me-not, Balsam, and Rose. 



The Woodbine and Jasmine smile on our 

 bowers, 



The fragrant Clematis, and sweet-scented Pea, 



The Hearts-ease, and Moss-rose ; and fairest 

 of flowers, 



The Lily, Sweet William, and gay Fleur- 

 de-lis. 



Emblems of innocence ! bright gems of beauty ! 

 Yielding the sweets of your store to the bee; 

 Cheerful ye mingle your pleasure with duty, 

 And smilingly greet us from bower and tree! 



The breeze wafts an incense of Bell-heath and 

 Clover, 



The Clove-pink, Carnation, and sweet Mig- 

 nonette: 



We shall think on thee, Flora, when Summer 

 is over, 



And the smile which thou gav'st us whenever 

 we met. 



Beautiful flowers ! oh how I love ye ! 

 Blending with taste every color and hue, — 

 Smiling with joy to the bright sun above ye, 

 Fann'd by the breezes, or bathed in the 

 dew! 



GOOD NATURE,— A HINT. 



Fielding tells us, that " there are persons of 

 such general philanthropy, and of such easy 

 tempers, that the world in contempt calls them 

 ' good-natured.' " He adds, " they are like little 

 fish put into a pike pond, doomed to be devoured 

 by that voracious water-hero." We find daily, 

 that we are one of these "little fish." Our 

 Journal it seems is in such request, that it is 

 lent from one family to another, to our great 

 injury, week after week! If we simply say 

 " Fie ! " to the lender and borrower, perhaps 

 those three letters may prove our "good-nature," 

 and work a cure. How can we "live," if thus 

 dealt with? Is a nobleness of heart altogether 

 extinguished? Not, surely, in the readers op 

 "Our Journal?" "Bad" as the world is* 

 we were not prepared for this ! 



NOTICE TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS. 

 Stampfd Covers for Volume I. of the Journal, price 

 Is. 2d., also a copious Ikdex, Title, and Preface to 

 Volume I., price 3d., are now ready, and may be had 

 of our Publisher. 



London : Published for William Kidd, by William 

 Spooner, 379, Strand, (to whom all Letters, Parcels, 

 and Communications. Addressed to "the Editor," 

 and Books for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and 

 Procurable, by order, of every Bookseller and News- 

 vendor in the Kingdom. Agents-. Dublin, John Wise- 

 heart ; Edinburgh, John Menzies ; Glasgow, John 

 M'Leod. 



London : M.S. Mvers, Printer, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 



