INTRODUCTION.

Beatus ille qui procul negotiis-
Libet jacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
Modo in tenaci gramine;
Labuntur altis interim rivis aquæ ;
QUERUNTUR IN SILVIS AVES;
Fontesque lymphis obstreperunt manantibus
Somnos quod invitet leves.-HORAT.

Harmer's Cottage, Ladywell,

LEWISHAM.

THE Summer's fervid reign is past,
And bland September come at last:
A grateful change-the most to me
To all who can the city flee.

Light pleasure's sylphs, with tripping feet,
Your presence here will gladly greet:

Here Quiet-Contemplation dwell

Beside the fount of LADYWELL,

Which flows incessant through the year,
As virtue pure, as crystal clear.

B

Come to my coTTAGE!-now look out! Fair prospect, MADAM! who can doubt? The church at distance, 'midst the trees, With verdant meadows round, must please. There, too, the social ROOKERY,

That ever hath been dear to me;

The bridge-beneath, the rippling stream-
The alder's umbrage, and the gleam
Of sunlight darting through the shade,
By lofty elms or poplars made,

With willows waving to the wind,

All aid to please, to soothe the mind;
While Ducks, in sportive diving, play,
And GEESE wide o'er the meadow stray;
The PIGEONS skim the air along,

The Cocks and HENS the barn-door throng;
As anxious mothers cluck aloud

The downy young around them crowd,
What time is heard the thresher's flail;
The PEACOCK Struts in plumy pride,
The wild GALLINA* by his side,
E'er ready, with his powerful beak,
Fierce vengeance on his foes to wreak;
And lo! the milk-maid with her pail !—
Here feeds the sheep, and there the cow,—
On yonder slope the moving plough,
While heard the plough-boy's cheering note,
On airy waves it seems to float.

* Numida Meleagris, GUINEA HEN, or Pintado.

THE PLOUGH-BOY'S SONG,
in September.

THE morning breaks o'er Shooter's hill ;-
The Redbreast twitters by the mill;-
The Cocks, at answering distance, crow;-
In neighbouring mead the cattle low;

While artless JANE, of beauty pride,
Her light step dashing dew aside,
With notes of song wakes echo now,
As blithe she hastes to milk the cow;

Yo, hup-yo, ho!

To plough we go!

The sun his streams of golden light
Now
pours o'er hills and vallies bright;-
The Thrush her song is warbling now;
Afield we go to chearful plough;

Yo, hup-yo, ho!

To plough we go!

O NATURE! mistress of my song,
To thee love, beauty, truth belong;-
To thee I homage pay; and now
Afield we go, and-speed the plough;—

Yo, hup-yo, ho!

To plough we go!

These are the rural sights and sounds
With which the valley here abounds.

And here, in SPRING, the NIGHTINGALE
Charms, with his song, the listening vale,
What time vibrations of delight

The CUCKOO's monotones excite,
While the wild WARBLER train attend,
And with his notes their music blend;
To grove, to wood, to shady dell,
Echo responds in wavy swell;
All Nature rapturous appears,
And Fancy vegetation hears.*

Nor will the churchyard sod refuse
Its sombrous strains by rustic muse;
Where, too, sleeps Genius, wild and free,
Within the grave of DERMODY.†

* Madame COTTIN has a similar, but, I think, more happy thought," On croiroit presque entendre le bruit de la vegetation." -Elizabeth ou Les Exilés de Sibérie.

A poet of some promise, whose malignant planet marred his best efforts. The fate of this young man reminds us of the fate of SAVAGE, who had, like DERMODY, been consigned to neglect in his earlier years: hence the unfortunate impressions which both received could not, as it appears, be coun teracted in their effects by any subsequent attempts, either of others or of themselves; a convincing proof of the power of early circumstances in forming character; and a proof, also, of the necessity of early attention to such surrounding media, in order that the best character may be fashioned and brought out. Dermody was a native of Ireland; but died at Lewisham, or in the neighbourhood, in 1802, at the age of twenty-eight.

Oh visit not with brow severe
His failings,-o'er them drop a tear!
A little walk, yon steep ascend
And pleasure will your toil commend.
Behold, in undulating swell,

How rise the hills, how sinks the dell.
Now let your steps descending turn
Along the banks of Ravensbourne ;
And, though not sure to meet delight,
Her nymphs, perchance, will you requite.
Some BIRDS, even now, will here in song
Be heard the sylvan shades among;
The THRUSH, the REDBREAST in the
Still warble soft their notes of love;
And LARKS, high soaring in the air,
Proclaim their pleasure still is there;

grove,

Of CHAFFINCH "chinks" the woods are proud,

And chrisks of De....up.nDu ochu luud,*

While SWALLOWs, many, bounding, fleet,
Bathe in the stream both wings and feet.
What time along the marge you stray,
Behold the fishes' sportive play;-
Oh may no angler, in yon nook,

Disturb those tenants of the brook,

Nor wound them with insidious hook!

The Blackbird, although rarely if ever heard in song in the autumn, utters, nevertheless, upon being disturbed, a singular and continued shrieking or note, which, although well known to the natural historian, is not easily described.