His, wanton SPORT,

-a sport unblest,→

A sport I ever must detest.*

Return-and should you, seeking HEALTH,-
The maid most coy when woo'd by wealth,
Westward ascend-behold a SPRING
That might, perchance, even heal a KING.
But who its modest worth shall tell-
What poet sings of LADYWELL?

* LORD BYRON has thus denounced the sport of angling: "And angling, too, that solitary vice,

Whatever Isaac Walton sings or says:

The quaint, old cruel coxcomb in his gullet,
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it."

Don Juan, Canto XIII.

His Lordship adds, in a note, "It would have taught him humanity at least. This sentimental savage, whom it is a mode to quote (among the novelists) to shew their sympathy for innocent sports and old songs, teaches how to sew up frogs, and break their legs by way of experiment, in addition to the art of angling, the cruellest, the coldest, and the stupidest of pretended sports. They may talk of the beauties of Nature, but the angler merely thinks of his dish of fish; he has no leisure to take his eyes off the stream, and a single bite is worth to him more than all the scenery around." It must, however, be admitted, notwithstanding Walton's bad taste in regard to angling, that his book is an amusing one; and has, very probably, induced many persons to follow the sport, who would otherwise never have thought of it. Surely, notwithstanding all that Walton says, the sitting for hours by the margin of a brook or river, is not a healthy occupation, whatever the angler may make of it; surely man, intellectual man, can find something more praiseworthy than such solitary inactivity to gratify his aberrant inclinations!

None-none;-then now, O FOUNT! to THEE,

Let this first offering hallowed be.
While many seek the ocean's shore
And listen to his hollow roar;
May I, with calm delight, still sing
Of THEE, unostentatious SPRING!*

I love the woods, the hills, the fields;
Will you attend me, LADY! there
To hear the BIRDS-to snuff the air-
To taste the pleasures Nature yields.
I love the COUNTRY and its calm,
For many wounds a sovereign balm.+
I loathe the CITY and its noise,—
Its tumult, pageants, and its toys.
Mistake me not-I friendship prize,t
And gladly seek the good and wise;

*It ought to he mentioned, that, although this SPRING is in the little hamlet of LADYWELL, the name of Ladywell is not derived from it. Ladywell, the fountain so called, produces pellucid and excellent water. The spring here alluded to is a powerful chalybeate, and totally unfit for common use. It is similar in its properties to the waters of Tunbridge; and, were it farther from the metropolis, would, long ere this, have obtained celebrity. Those who may be desirous of knowing this spring, will find it at a cottage inhabited by Mr. RUSSELL.

O rus, quando ego te aspiciam? quandoque licebit
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno inertibus horis,

Dacere solicitæ jucunda oblivia vitæ.-HORAT.

Ego vos hortari tantùm possum, ut amicitiam omnibus rebus humanis anteponatis; nihil est enim tàm naturæ aptum, tàm conveniens ad res secundas vel adversas.-CICERO DE AMICITIA.

But may

I not such here possess.

May I not here find happiness?

Come then, fair LADY! with me stray;
TO SHOOTER'S-HILL now haste away;
Or, midst the shady bowers of LEE,*
I'll proudly wait your company.
Or, if you so prefer, the dark

The chesnut groves of GREENWICH PARK;
Forgetting not-who can forget?

The balmy breezes of BLACK-HEATH,

"The spirit of improvement through the land
Strides like a giant."

The improvements which have lately been made on BLACKHEATH, at LEE, and the unostentatious village of LEWISHAM, deserve a short note. Those who remember the gloomy grandeur of LEE, may now contemplate it under another aspect, namely, that of rural elegance. There is an oak by the footway, leading from Lee church to Lee-green, that deserves, together with the surrounding scenery, to be immortalized by the pen, or the pencil, or both. BLACKHEATH has lately received an important addition to the east, in a series of elegant villas, The evincing, at once, the taste and opulence of the owners. modern and long-neglected ruin of Sir Gregory Page Turner's seat, has, at length, totally disappeared; and, in its stead, have arisen numerous mausions which wealth and competence have chosen for their abode. Of LEWISHAM, I dare not trust myself to say much; it is a quiet, unobtrusive village, in which I have passed many happy days, and in which a considerable portion of this work was written. The improvements, either completed or going on here, will render its neighbourhood still more desirable as a residence. The walks and scenery surrounding this place are sufficiently described in the text.

Where health will twine for you a wreath,
Where the Campanula blooms yet;
Where CHAMOMILE sanescent grows,
Call'd by the learned Anthemis,t
Specifically nobilis,—

And Heath her beauteous blossom shows,-
There oft I rove. On FOREST-HILL
I drink of pleasure's cup my fill ;-
There listen to, the shades among,
The REDBREAST's soft, autumnal song;
Or hear the THRUSH, a farewell lay
Pour out, as sinks to rest the day;
While from the stubble sudden spring
The Partridges, on sounding wing;-
No, social Rasors! ne'er will I

Send death amongst you as you fly‡.

• Campanula patula.—See a subsequent note.

+ Anthemis nobilis, or COMMON CHAMOMILE with single flowers; the cultivated variety has double flowers. Whatever may be the merits of the Linnæan, and other scientific systems of botany; it is, nevertheless, greatly to be feared, that, from their apparent complexity and verbosity, it will be a long time indeed before they will come (if ever) into general use, and supersede the present trivial nomenclature.

For some account of the misery produced by firing among flocks of birds, see the notes to the House Sparrow's Speech. For an explanation of the term Rasor, see the prose portion of this Introduction.

I love the steps of autumn time,
When cool, not cold, the morning's prime ;-
When noon has lost his scorching pride,
And pleasures throng the brooklet's side;-
When eve is bland-the genial breeze
Plays wantonly among the trees;
Or, dimpling o'er the river's face,
Adds to its beauty novel grace.
Delight with me, too, often roves
In SYDENHAM's dark, shady groves;
Yet o'er her hills, with, LADY! YOU,
Pleas'd I shall be to dash the dew
From herb and flower; and pleas'd to see
The blooming HEATH I ween you'll be.
Nor will that modest lilac maid,
CAMPANULA, with drooping head,
Deny her charms, the while appear
Such goodly prospects far and near.
The purple DIGITALIS† too,

Will here her homage pay to you.

* The Campanula patula, or MEADOW BELL-FLOWER, is one of the most elegant of the Campanula genus, and only not more admired because it is so very common on our heaths.

+ Digitalis purpurea, or Fox-Glove. This valuable and beautiful indigenous plant, although growing plentifully in hedges in various parts of the kingdom, is rare in the immediate neighbourhood of London. The curious will, however, find it on the Sydenham-hills,-hills which no one who delights in rural scenery should omit to see; yet how many of the inhabitants of the metropolis have never visited them!