Sin, has ne possim naturae accedere partis, Frigidus obstiterit circum praecordia sanguis, Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, Flumina amem silvasque inglorius. O, ubi campi Spercheusque, et virginibus bacchata Lacaenis Taygeta! O, qui me gelidis convallibus Haemi Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra! Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, Atque metus omnis et inexorabile fatum Subiecit pedibus strepitumque Acherontis avari! Fortunatus et ille, deos qui novit agrestis, Panaque Silvanumque senem Nymphasque sorores!

Vergil

1

INLAND WATERS

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

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake-water lapping with low sounds by the shore.
Yeats

XX

66

"Nice? It's the only thing," said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing absolute nothing -half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing," he went on dreamily: messing about in - boats. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together and have a long day of it?"

Kenneth Grahame

G

INLAND WATERS

THE BIRCH CANOE

FROM Hiawatha

IVE me of your bark, O Birch-Tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree! Growing by the rushing river,

Tall and stately in the valley!

I a light canoe will build me,

Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
That shall float upon the river,
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,

Like a yellow water-lily!

"Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree! Lay aside your white-skin wrapper, For the Summer-time is coming, And the sun is warm in heaven, And you need no white-skin wrapper!" Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

In the solitary forest,

By the rushing Taquamenaw,
When the birds were singing gaily,
In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
And the sun, from sleep awaking,
Started up and said, "Behold me!
Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
And the tree with all its branches
Rustled in the breeze of morning,
Saying, with a sigh of patience,

66

Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!

With his knife the tree he girdled;