Part 44

J. R. LOWELL.

35. The rivulet, which Sending glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed Of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks, Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice In its own being.

W. C. BRYANT.

36. A damsel singing to herself A song of love by snatches; breaking off If but a flower, an insect on the wing Please for an instant, then as carelessly The strain resuming.

ROGERS--Italy.

37. The sound of the church-going bell, When it bursts on the ear with its full, rich swell.

MISS M. DAVIDSON.

38. The brisk, awakening viol, Whose sweet, entrancing voice you love the best.

COLLINS.

39. The blackbird's merry chant. Bold plunderer! How sweet to hear his mellow burst of song Float from his watch-place on the mossy tree, Close at the cornfield's edge!

J. MCLELLAN.

40. The sound of music at even-fall, Filling the heart With a flow of thought and feeling sweet, When lips that we love breathe forth the song.

LOUISA P. SMITH.

41. The harp Eolian; Faintly at first it begins, scarce heard, and gentle its rising, Low as the softest breath that passes at summer evening; Then, as it swells and mounts up, the thrilling melody deepens, Till a mightier, holier virtue comes with its powerful tone.

SOUTHEY.

42. The chirp of birds, blithe voices, lowing kine, The dash of waters, reed, or rustic pipe, Blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd bell.

HILLHOUSE.

43. A song of love and jollitye, To drive away dull melancholy.

SPENSER.

44. Preluding low, soft notes that faint and tremble, Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep; While such sensations in the soul assemble, As make it pleasant to the eyes to weep.

MRS. MARIA BROOKS.

45. Song of maids beneath the moon, With fairy laughter blent.

W. C. BRYANT.

46. To hear the glorious swell Of chanted psalm and prayer, And the deep organ's bursting heart Throb through the shivering air.

J. R. LOWELL.

47. A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.

COLERIDGE.

48. Approaching trumpets, that with quavering start, On the smooth wind come dancing to the heart.