151 
be passed over; we even now almost share the varied 
emotion of the infant minstrel whilst reading the follow¬ 
ing stanzas: — 
__ « with berries smear’d, with brambles torn, 
The babes, now famish’d, lay them down to die ; 
’Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn, 
Folded in one another’s arms they lie; 
Nor friend nor stranger hears their dying cry, 
< For from the town the man returns no more. ’ 
But thou, who Heaven’s just vengeance darest defy, 
This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore. 
When death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store. ” 
Gilpin, the elegant author of “ Remarks on Forest 
Scenery,” seems to have outlived all these early predi¬ 
lections, for he treats this poor plant most unmercifully. 
After speaking of various shrubs and flowers which might 
adorn the foreground of a picture, he says, “ Of all this 
undergrowth, I know but one plant which is disagreeable, 
and that is the bramble. It does not hang carelessly, 
twisting round every support like others of the creeping 
tribe, but forms one stiff, unpliant curve; nor has it any 
foliage to recommend it. In short, it is a plant which 
should not, I think, presume in landscape farther than 
hath just been allowed : it has little beauty in itself, and 
l 4 
