44 
NATUEE IN THE NATUEE POETS. 
" The da-rksome pines that o''er yon. rocks reclined, 
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind ; 
The wandering streams that shine between the hills, 
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, 
The dying gales that pant upon the trees, 
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; 
No more these scenes my meditation aid. 
Or lull to rest the melancholy maid. 
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves. 
Long sounding aisles, and intermingled graves. 
Black melancholy sits, and round her throws 
A death-like silence, and a dread repose : 
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, 
Shades every flower, and darkens every green, 
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, 
And breathes a browner horror o'er the woods." 
It is not uninteresting to compare with this subjective 
piece of nature-painting the utterance of a more modern poet. 
In Thomas Hood we have the well-known passage from a 
minor poem : 
" I remember, I remember 
The house v/here I was born. 
The little window where the sun 
Came peeping in at morn; 
I remember, I remember 
The fir trees dark and high; 
I used to think their slender toj)s 
Were right against the sky : 
It was a childish ignorance. 
But now 'tis little joy 
To know I'm farther off from heaven 
Than when I Vv^as a hoy.''' 
Here then we part from Pope and the more artificial 
school of poetry, with its comjoaratively small contributions 
to the poetry of external nature. I think I bave said 
enough — even without mentioning that the bard of Twicken- 
ham was instrumental in abolishing the Dutch system of 
landscape gardening, and introducing a more natural style— 
