s, and gave
Red to the cheek, and dew-damp to the brow:
It was a day that cannot be forgot--
A jubilee in childhood's calendar--
A green hill-top seen o'er the billowy waste
Of dim oblivion's flood:--and so it is,
That on my morning couch--what time the sun
Tinges the honeysuckle flowers with gold,
That cluster round the porch--and in the calm
Of evening meditation, when the past
Spontaneously unfolds the treasuries
Of half-forgotten and fragmental things,
To memory's ceaseless roamings--it comes back,
Fragrant and fresh, as if 'twere yesterday.
From morn till noon, his light assiduous toil
The angler plied; and when the mid-day sun
Was high in heaven, under a spreading tree,
(Methinks I hear the hum amid its leaves!)
Upon a couch of wild-flowers, down we sat
With healthful palates to our slight repast
Of biscuits, and of cheese, and bottled milk;
The sward our table, and the boughs our roof:
And oh! in banquet hall, where richest cates
Luxurious woo the pamper'd appetite,
Never did viands proffer such delight,
To Sybarite upon his silken couch,
As did to us our simple fair that day.

VI.

Bright shone the afternoon, say rather burn'd,
In floods of molten gold, with all its rich
Array of blossoms by that river's side--
Wild camomile, and lychnis in whose cups
The bee delights to murmur, harebells blue,
And violets breathing fragrance; nor remote
The aureate furze, that to the west-winds sigh,
Lent its peculiar perfume blandly soft.
At times we near'd the wild-duck and her brood
In the far angle of some dim-seen pool,
Silent and sable, underneath the boughs
Of low hung willow; and, at times, the bleat
Of a stray lamb would bid us raise our eyes
To where it stood above us on the rock,
Knee-deep amid the broom--a sportive elf.
Enshrined in recollection--sleep those hours
So brilliant and so beautiful--the scene
So full of pastoral loveliness--the heart
With pleasure overflowing--and the sky
Pavilion'd over all, an arch of peace--
God with his fair creation reconciled:
And oh! to be forgotten only with
The last fond thoughts of memory, I behold
That grand and gorgeous evening, in whose blaze
Homeward with laden paniers we return'd.
Through the green woods outshot the level r