July. 61 
SUMMER MORN. 
With quickened step 
Brown night retires ; young day pours in apace, 
And opens all the lawny prospect wide. 
The dripping rock, the mountain’s misty top 
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. 
Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine, 
And from the bladed field the fearful hare 
Limps awkward ; while, along the forest glade, 
The wild deer trip, and, often turning, gaze 
At early passenger. Music awakes 
The native voice of undissembled joy ; 
And, thick around the woodland, hymns arise. 
Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves 
His mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells ; 
And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 
His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn. 
Javies Thomson. 
SUMMER EVE. 
Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, 
Just o’er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 
Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, 
In all their pomp attend his setting throne. 
Air, earth, and ocean smile immense, and now, 
