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language of flowers. 
land sloped downward to the edge of the stream, he 
beheld cattle browsing, and saw nymphs and swains 
attending their flocks, while their low, sweet pipings 
filled all the valley with music. Here a beautiful 
bevy of white-footed maidens tripped lightly to the 
oaten reed of the shepherd, as he sat upon the 
twisted root of some antique oak, while his flock 
grazed in the distance, seeming to take no note 
of the dancers. There, half concealed beneath the 
embowering Acacias, sat two fond lovers, toying with 
each other; she timing the distant music with her 
crook idly upon the ground, whilst he was twisting 
the Sweet Pea in the clusters of her hair, or hang¬ 
ing its green tendrils here and there amongst the 
rolling folds of her down-dropping ringlets. Further 
on a group was gathered around two shepherds, who 
were contending for a milk-white lamb: the prize 
stood bleating before them, garlanded with flowers, 
and they strove, like rival nightingales, each trying 
to overwhelm the other by the power by its song, 
as they chanted aloud the happiness which abounds 
in pastoral life, and sung the praises of the beautiful 
nymph which each secretly adored. Love stood by 
unperceived, and listened; and his immortal heart 
glowed within him while he heard one of them sing 
the praises of Psyche—the bashful, the beautiful, 
Psyche, the milk-handed—the star-eyed—the shy 
fawn ; which but the sound of a footstep frightened 
