'O blessed bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place,
That is fit home for thee!' II. p. 59.
After this there is an address to a butterfly, whom he invites to visit him, in these simple strains—
'This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
Stop here whenever you are weary.' II. p. 61.
We come next to a long story of a 'Blind Highland Boy,' who lived near an arm of the sea, and had taken a most unnatural desire to venture on that perilous element. His mother did all she could to prevent him; but one morning, when the good woman was out of the way, he got into a vessel of his own, and pushed out from the shore.
'In such a vessel ne'er before
Did human creature leave the shore.' II. p. 72.
And then we are told, that if the sea should get rough, 'a bee-hive would be ship as safe.' 'But say, what is it?' a poetical interlocutor is made to exclaim most naturally; and here followeth the answer, upon which all the pathos and interest of the story depend.
'A Household Tub, like one of those
Which women use to wash their clothes!!' II. p. 72.
This, it will be admitted, is carrying the matter as far as it will well go; nor is there anything,—down to the wiping of shoes, or the evisceration of chickens,—which may not be introduced in poetry, if this is tolerated. A boat is sent out and brings the boy ashore, who being tolerably frightened we suppose, promises to go to sea no more; and so the story ends.
Then we have a poem, called 'the Green Linnet,' which opens with the poet's telling us;
'A whispering leaf is now my joy,
And then a bird will be the toy
That doth my fancy tether.' II. p. 79.