LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

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Then comes Thy glory in the Summer months
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills.
And hamlets brown, and dim discovered spires.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share
How bow'd the woods beneath the sturdy stroke
The paths of glory lead but to the grave
Can storied urn, or animated bust
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen

Some village-Hampden, that, with dauntless breast.
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Some frail memorial still erected nigh

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day
On some fond breast the parting soul relies
His listless length at noontide would he stretch
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne
The Epitaph.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth.

BIRKET FOSTER

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BIRKET FOSTER

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BIRKET FOSTER

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BIRKET FOSTER

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E. V. B...

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BIRKET FOSTER

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GEORGE THOMAS .

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The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade
The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest
These far-departing, seek a kinder shore
Amidst the swains to show my book-learn’d skill.
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue
To spurn imploring famine from the gate
While resignation gently slopes the way

The playful children just let loose from school
All but yon widow'd solitary thing.
The village preacher's modest mansion rose

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T. CRESWICK, R.A.

C. W. COPE, R. A.

H. J. TOWNSEND

T. WEBSTER, R.A..

C. W. COPE, R. A.

He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain
Shoulder'd his crutch and show'd how fields were won
Beside the bed where parting life was laid
And pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile J. C. HORSLEY.
The village master taught his little school.

F. TAYLER.

C. STONHOUSE

J. C. HORSLEY.

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Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd
In arguing too the parson own'd his skill.
Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound.
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore.
If to some common's fenceless limit stray'd
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies
She left her wheel and robes of country brown
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake
The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green .
The good old sire the first prepar'd to go
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

To meet their Dad wi' flichtering noise and glee
Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben
The priest-like father reads the sacred page
And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request
Now see him mounted once again

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"Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-here's the house!"

Whereat his horse did snort, as he.

Though the tempest top-gallant masts smack smooth

The sculptured dead on each side seemed to freeze

At length burst in the argent revelry

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Her maiden eyes divine, fix'd on the floor.

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Meantime, across the moors, had come young Porphyro

And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand

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Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptur'd stone-
Hark! 'tis an elfin storm from faëry land
Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead.
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found
These lovers fled away into the storm

Where woods and groves in solemn grandeur rise
A little farm his generous master till'd.

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HARRISON WEIR

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There, warm with toil, his panting horses browse .
O'erarch'd with oaks that form'd fantastic bow'rs
For pigs, and ducks, and turkeys throng the door
With joy she views her plenteous reeking store
And further far, where numerous herds repose.
See, o'er yon pasture, how they pour along!
Sees every pass secured, and fences whole
The cumbrous clods that tumble round the plough
Giles with a pole assails their close retreats
And every cottage from the plenteous store
To turn the swarth, the quivring load to rear
Unruly cows with marked impatience stay
Now eve d'erhangs the western clouds thick brow
When der each field the flaming sunbeams play'd.
Refuls the jug his honour'd host to tend
Deposits seed, and bids new harvests rise.

BIRKET FOSTER
BIRKET FOSTER
HARRISON WEIR
BIRKET FOSTER

BIRKET FOSTER
BIRKET FOSTER

The herd in closest ambush seeks to hide

Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon-time.
Now blithe she sung, and gather'd useless flow'rs
And strolls the Crusoe of the lonely fields
Whilst far abroad the fox pursues his prey
Then welcome, cold; welcome, ye snowy nights
Around their home the storm-pinch'd cattle lows.
There the long billet, forced at last to bend
And pats the jolly sides of those he loves
To pond, or field, or village fair, when thou.
With saunt'ring step he climbs the distant stile
For ewes that stood aloof with fearful eye
Suspends the chorus of the spinner's song .
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Arm! Arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves
He passed where Newark's stately tower

G. E. HICKS

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BIRKET FOSTER

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HARRISON WEIR

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BIRKET FOSTER

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BIRKET FOSTER

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G. E. HICKS

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It is an ancient Mariner, and he stoppeth one of three E. H. WEhnert
Merrily did we drop below the kirk.

Before her goes the merry minstrelsy

And ice, mast-high, came floating by, as green as

emerald.

For food or play, came to the mariners' hollo!

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay .

As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean Instead of the cross, the Albatross about my neck was hung

When looking westward I beheld a something in the

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BIRKET FOSTER

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E. H. WEHNERT

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E. DUNCAN

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E. H. WEHNERT

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E. H. WEHNERT

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E. H. WEHNERT

When that strange shape drove suddenly betwixt us and the Sun