and all sight, save the gray spire of our venerable cathedral, peering over the hill-tops, to direct the wanderer. Now, look abroad

-see how lovely is all around-the sun is just rising, yonder, from amid those golden cloudlets; and hark-hear you not the "matin-song" of nature; the choristers are so numerous, that it seems as if every hedge and bush, and tree, were literally alive with music-but with a little care we may see the musicians; there is one on the highest twig of that elm, it is the thrush; from his elevated position, you, may think, perchance, that he is "leader of the band," but no, one songster is higher up than he; you can just discern his form like a black speck on that snowwhite cloud; distant as he is, the trifling notes of his song are easily distinguishable: truly this music is sweeter

"than ever stole

From mortal minstrel's hand."

There too in that leafless grove, are the robin and the wren; and the hedge sparrow and the linnet are singing from the topmost spray of the hawthorn fence. The blackbird, the woodlark, and the chaffinch are also singing; the "tuneless chatter" of the nuthatch, and the "loud laugh" of the woodpecker are now heard, and the wood pigeons have begun to coo in the pine groves.

Many of our birds have already commenced the labours of incubation, as the raven and the rook; very few of the great congregations of winter remain; and those who during the dull season, repaired to the neighbourhood of man, for shelter and support, feeling the genial "spirit of the spring," have returned to their woodland haunts, to perform their parts in the great system of

nature.

After the occurrence of a few fine days, you may see the mole renewing his burrowing toil, and occasionally a solitary field mouse may awake from his hybernal sleep. The frog and the toad also emerging from the mud, appear at the surface of ponds and ditches.

The little tipula, which frolicked away the wintry season with never tiring glee, are increased in their numbers, and many insects, which had hybernated in sheltered places, swarm at noon under sunny fences. The bat too, on mild evenings will flitter about, in anticipation of his nocturnal prey; and joins with the owl in breaking the stillness of the twilight hour.

But FLORA also shews that "it is once more spring; flowers there are indeed, which come and go with winter;" but sweetest and most welcome of these children of earth, are the few, humble, unassuming blossoms which first bedeck the reviving year. The cultivated snowdrops, hepaticas, and crocuses, are always expected and welcomed; but few persons would look to hedgerows and fields for "heralds of spring." The earliest of the flowers, which do not bloom here through the winter, are the perennial mercury, and the ivy-leaved speedwell; by the end of February, the primrose, pilewort, and whitlow-grass, are also in flower. The male catkins of the hazel are already out; the female flowers appear towards the close of this month; the catkins of the alder, poplar, willow, and elm, unfold at the same time; the yew also flowers. The buds of our forest trees begin to swell, from the ascent of the sap: and the greater part of the late spring flowers emerge from the ground. During the mild winters of the last three years, the number of plants which have flowered throughout that season is very considerable; the " wee, crimson-tipped" flower, the deadnettles, dandelion, chickweed, groundsel, and speedwells, are the most conspicuous of this kind, at this time.

These are a few—a very few, of the paragraphs of the unwritten BOOK OF NATURE, which, even he who runs may read." What we write of the dawn of the 66 year, can give but one enjoyment to the reader; but he who goes out to observe, has pleasure in every way that it can come, and health along with it. The mind expands with love and gratitude to the author of all this varied beauty. It surely is very good; and from the contemplation, we are insensibly led to think afresh on the time when the FIAT of the Almighty was uttered for their creation; when "HE spake and it was done, HE commanded and it stood fast;""when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy;" and then again on the day when this fair but frail world shall pass away as a shadow, "and the other heavens, and the other earth shall appear, wherein dwelleth righteousness."

1st Feb.

RURICOLA.

THESEUS, A MONODRAMA,

ABRIDGED FROM THE GERMAN CHORUS-DRAMA OF

FREDERIC LEOPOLD COUNT STOLBERG.

Persons-Theseus and a Chorus of Athenians.

Scene--Where the road from the Piræus terminates in the forum of Athens.

Chorus-Live royal Ægeus' son! live our new king!
Jove save great Theseus: long live noble Theseus!
Theseus. Silence, Athenians, careless of my sorrows,
Here to the forum ye have dragged my steps

To hear the tale of all we underwent,

And now your

frantic shouts deny me audience.
Chorus. Live royal Ægeus' son! live our new king!
Theseus. From the Piræus hither thickening clouds
Have thronged our path with noisy gratulations
And noisier question. Ye deny me leisure

To shed the tear of grateful reverence,

To

pour libations on a father's tomb;

My locks to shear, and hallow to his manes.
Not the dark veil which grief with heavy hand
Has coil'd around my brow to you is sacred-
Peace, then, Athenians, once for all, and hear.

Chorus. Peace, peace, ye men of Athens, hush, and hear.
Theseus. For Crete, with favouring wind, ye know we sail'd
For Crete, with favouring wind we safely landed,
I, with the seven youths and seven maids,

And all your other tributary gifts;

Our vessels drawn upon the strand, we march'd
In orderly procession, crown'd with garlands,
Between long hedges of applauding Cretans,
Who gaz'd delighted on my fair companions,
To Minos' palace.

Cruel tho' he seem,

And for this minotaur, this monster-god,
Hid in deep labyrinths by guardian priests,
From Athens have exacted many a year
Corn, oil, and wine, and for its server's service,
The flower of beauty, and the bloom of youth,
Galling to us as really was his yoke,

Yet with mild sway at home he leads a people
Almost ungoverned, peaceable and happy;
And from the schools of Egypt and the east,
He has brought them equalizing laws and rites,

Worthy a brotherhood of upright men.

High on his throne the hoary-bearded king Sat, and beside him stood his many children; Among them, Ariadne, fair to see

As roseate clouds of even, while the sun

Plays with their golden curls. On me her glance
Which o'er our moving train awhile had roll'd,
Rested-on her alone my eyes were bent,
And Afrodite gave us both to quaff

The nectar, which in Hebe's cup she mingles,
Draught love-inspiring. To the king I said:
The son of Ægeus, Minos, kneels before thee.
Ere I deliver up the accustom'd tribute,
One boon I crave: let me alone be shut
First in the labyrinth with this mere club.
Strife with a god (if such this son of Apis
By his tame worshippers be rightly deem'd)
Theseus shall dare unfearing: rites which bring
On man oppression cannot come from Jove.
If me the minotaur's ferocious force

Bring to the ground, be these, as wont, his booty;
Cull'd from the garden of Athenian youth,
They are a tribute worthy of the gods,

But worthy to be grudg'd them. If I conquer,
(Minos thou wilt not deem me impious then,
But may'st with honour gird my shining front)
O send me back, not merely with the friends,
Whom from the idols' greedy ministers

I shall have rescued, but as best befits
The son of him, thy former guest and friend,
Giving me Ariadne for my
bride.

Fairer than moon or sun is Ariadne.

With earnest mildness Minos heard nor frown'd; Methought a faint smile cautiously repress'd

Wish'd the success he car'd not to forebode me.

He look'd on Ariadne, who with eyes

Downcast, and blushing, quickly veiled herself.
First spake he with the elders of the people,

Words for the crowd not meant, and thus replied:
Arm'd as thou art, go to the labyrinth ;
There let the gods decide upon thy doom.
Spare they thy life, the king shall spare it too,
And send thee back with honour to thy father.
Two days in Minos' palace I partook

The rites of hospitality; and oft
Would Ariadne weigh with fearful eye
The club I carried, measure my brown arm,
With shy intreaty hang about her father,
And sweetly turn on me much-saying glances.

On the third day, at even, I was led
Into the labyrinth, arm'd with this club,
And with a lighted torch. Not many steps
Beyond the vestibule, along a gallery
(Of galleries and apartments, winding stairs,
And secret chambers, endless is the number)
Had I proceeded, ere the rustling step

Of one in glistening garments crept upon me.
I held my torch above my head, and gazed :
'Tis I, my Theseus, spake the whispering form.
'Tis I, thy Ariadne! take this coil,

The thread is fasten'd to the entrance-door;
Let it unwind as thou shalt pace along
The subterranean wilderness of vaults;

'T will re-conduct thee to the light of heaven.
Here I await thy coming, not unwilling,

If thou shouldst fall, to be the monster's booty;
If that should fall, then, Theseus, to be thine.
She spake, and shrunk aside in sightless darkness;
The door, which clos'd behind her, quench'd my torch.
I wander'd on in midnight, grop'd my way
Down dewy steps, at times my footfall waking
Dull echoes of the abyss. Ere long the shine
Of distant radiance mark'd the pillar'd cavern.
Nearer and nearer to the spot I came,

Where, in the eternal blaze of thousand lamps
That star his dungeon temple, on a floor

With offal strown, and bones, stalk'd the fierce god.
At me, with angry front and reddening eye

He springs, at me he points his sharpest horn:
This club, with timely heavy well-aimed blow
Shattered his skull. He fell to rise no more.

Chorus. Hail, Theseus,-Heracles, the monster slayer, Long live the noble Theseus! Jove save Theseus!

Theseus. Singing, that Ariadne soon might hear

Some pledge of my success, I hastened back

Coiling about the handle of my club

The thread, my faithful guide. Soon as I found her

She led me to her father. See, said she,

The monster slayer: let the hero be

Thy son-in-law; and give to me, for dower,

The seven youths and seven maids of Athens,

That we may carry with us joy to all;

Thou shalt remit the tribute now for ever.

Chorus. Live Ægeus' son, the guardian king of Athens. Theseus. Minos consented. But a week elaps'd,

And to our nuptial pomp the youthful train

New clad, with roses garlanded and myrtle,

Dancing, strew'd basket-fulls of flowers, and sang