owing ringlets, health and pleasure float on the freshening gale,
exercise and mirth gambol before him, age forgets his troubles, quits
his arm-chair, and welcomes his approach. The maids of the hamlet
assemble and dance round the pole, decked with many a flower and many a
streaming pendant. The village lovers loiter at the stile, or wander
down the retired lane, where the hedges are covered with their white
blossoms, and the modest wild rose, emblem of the blushing maid, peeps
from the sheltering thorn. Season of love and delight! long may thy
reign be protracted, young and beauteous MAY!

* * * * *

Who is the maid now approaching? She arises when the lark first pours
his melody in air. Her dress is of a darker green, her head is adorned
with full-blown flowers, her face is tanned by labour. The bleating and
affrighted sheep are plunged, unwillingly, into the pool, and now by the
sturdy hand stripped of their fleecy coats. The bottle quickly passes,
the simple tale goes round, the ballad purchased at the fair is sung;
the mower whets his scythe, and the grass and the wild-flowers fall
before it; the waggon, heavily laden, removes the odoriferous hay; and
the neat-mown fields display a brighter green. The cuckoo, with his
never-varying note is heard; but let us, when the day is over, placed in
some secluded nook, listen to the sweeter nightingale, who, as poets
feign, was once a hapless female. Industry now toils through the
lengthened day, and the name of this sun-burnt maiden is JUNE.

* * * * *

Who is the youth that now advances in his robe of gauze? He comes when
the rosy morn first trembles in the east. Slow and languid is his step;
he seeks the damp cavern and the impervious shade. It is the heat of
noon, and the kine no longer low. Not a breeze stirs: the foliage of the
groves, all--is still, except the insect world, who dimple the stream,
or, buzzing round the head of the sleeping youth, rouses the panting dog
that lies at his side.

Now the terrified birds dart swiftly through the air; a solemn and
portentous stillness reigns; the thunder mutters, the lightnings flash,
and the pouring storm approaches; the traveller seeks the sheltering
cottage. But when the sun again returns in his glory, the birds plume
their dripping feathers; the gardener ties up his fallen roses, and
trails anew the gadding woodbine. How sweetly refreshing is the air; we