Part 30

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Now the glories of the year May be viewed at the best, And the earth doth now appear In her fairest garments dress'd: Sweetly smelling plants and flowers Do perfume the garden bowers; Hill and valley, wood and field, Mixed with pleasure profits yield.

George Withers.

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Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled, Which will you take? Yellow, blue, speckled! Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow, Each in its way has not a fellow.

C. Rossetti.

Swelling downs, where sweet air stirs Blue hair-bells lightly, and where prickly furze Buds lavish gold.

Keats.

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Mouse-ear, or Scorpion grass, any manner of way ministered to horses brings this help unto them, that they cannot be hurt, while the smith is shoeing of them, therefore it is called of many, herba clavorum, the herb of nails.

Old saying, before 1660.

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Sweet is the Rose, but growes upon a brere; Sweet is the Junipere, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere; Sweet is the Firbloome, but his braunche is rough; Sweet is the Cypresse, but his rynd is tough; Sweet is the Nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the Broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is Moly, but his root is ill. So every sweet with sowre is tempered still, That maketh it the coveted be more: For easie things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men doe set but little store.

Spenser.

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Where the copse-wood is the greenest, Where the fountain glistens sheenest, Where the morning dew lies longest, There the lady fern grows strongest.

Walter Scott.

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FAIRE DAYES: OR, DAWNES DECEITFUL.

Faire was the Dawne; and but e'ene now the Skies Shew'd like to Creame, enspir'd with Strawberries: But on a sudden, all was chang'd and gone That smil'd in that first sweet complexion.

Then Thunder-claps and Lightning did conspire To teare the world, or set it all on fire. What trust to things below, whenas we see, As Men, the Heavens have their Hypocrisie?

Herrick.

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Summer in the penniless can stir the frozen prayer, Summer sends a golden glow through needy bones a-while; Bright and breezy is the dawn, and soft the balmy air; Summer, 'tis the breath of Heaven, 'tis God's own gracious smile.

From Victor Hugo.

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The nightingale and the cuckow both grow hoarse at the rising of Sirius the dogge star.

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