83 
A SUMMER EVENING. 
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon, 
Towards the end of the sunny month of June, 
Wien the north wind congregates in crowds 
The floating mountains of the silver clouds 
From tlie horizon — and the stainless sky 
Opens beyond them, like eternity. 
All things rejoiced beneath the sun — the weeds. 
The river, and the corn-flelds, and the reeds; 
The willow-leaves, that glanced in the light breeze. 
And the Arm foliage of the larger trees. 
Shelley. 
Nay, we’ll have music; let that sweet breath, at least. 
Give us her airy welcome. 
Beaumont and Fletcher. 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Shakspeare. 
And at the last, the bird began to sing 
So passing swetely, that, by many fold. 
It was more plesaunt than I couth devise; 
And whan this song was ended in this wise. 
The nightingale with so mery a note 
Answerid him tliat alle the wode yrong 
So sodainly, that, as it were a sote, 
I stode astonied, and was with the song 
Thorow ravishid; that, till late and long, 
I ne wist in what place I was, ne where. 
And ayen, methought, she song even by mine ere. 
Chaucer. 
Oh ! leave the dull dim house, and come with me 
Down to the river’s brink ; and we will go 
Floating in our light boat so silently. 
Watching the sunset-tinged clouds, that glow 
O’er the broad brow of heaven, and, hanging low, 
IM 2 
