High poised on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen,
In gaze attentive, views the varied scene,
And soon her far-fetched ken discerns below,
The light laburnum lift her polished brow,
Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade.
Swift as the falcon's sweep the monarch bends
Her flight abrupt: the following host descends;
Round the fine twig, like clustered grapes they close
In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose."
In many country districts it is a time-honoured custom for the good folks of the village to commence on such occasions a terrible noise of tanging and ringing with frying-pan and key. This is done with the absurd notion that the bees are charmed with the clangorous din, and may by it be induced to settle as near as possible to the source of such sweet sounds. This is, however, quite a mistake: there are other and better means for the purpose. The practice of ringing was originally adopted for a different and far more sensible object—viz., for the purpose of giving notice that a swarm had issued forth, and that the owner was anxious to claim the right of following, even though it should alight on a neighbour's premises. It would be curious to trace how this ancient ceremony has thus got corrupted from the original design.