Zephyr’s fickle breath,—the blast
From the northern ocean,
Since that day my lot have cast
By their varying motion.
From the mountain’s breezy height
To the silent valley,
From the forest’s darksome night
To the plain I sally.
Wheresoever wafts the wind,
Restless flight constraining,
There I wander unconfin’d,
Fearless, uncomplaining.
On I go—where all beside
Like myself are going;
Where oblivion’s dreamless tide
Silently is flowing.
There like beauty, frail and brief,
Fades the pride of roses;
There the laurel’s honour’d leaf—
Sear’d and scorn’d-reposes.
Bernard Barton.
About the middle of August, the viper brings forth her young. She produces from twelve to twenty-five eggs, from which, when hatched, her offspring come forth nearly of the size of earthworms.[257]