Love once among roses
Saw not
A sleeping bee, but was stung;
And being wounded in the finger
Of
His hand, cried for pain.
Running as well as flying
To the beautiful Venus,
I am killed, mother, said he,
I am killed, and I die.
A little serpent has stung me,
Winged, which they call
A bee, - the husbandmen.
And she said, If the sting
Of a bee afflicts you,
How, think you, are they afflicted,
Love, whom you smite?
- - - - - -
Late in the afternoon, for we had lingered long on the island, we
raised our sail for the first time, and for a short hour the
southwest wind was our ally; but it did not please Heaven to abet
us along. With one sail raised we swept slowly up the eastern
side of the stream, steering clear of the rocks, while, from the
top of a hill which formed the opposite bank, some lumberers were
rolling down timber to be rafted down the stream. We could see
their axes and levers gleaming in the sun, and the logs came down
with a dust and a rumbling sound, which was reverberated through
the woods beyond us on our side, like the roar of artillery. But
Zephyr soon took us out of sight and hearing of this commerce.
Having passed Read's Ferry, and another island called McGaw's
Island, we reached some rapids called Moore's Falls, and entered
on "that section of the river, nine miles in extent, converted,
by law, into the Union Canal, comprehending in that space six
distinct falls; at each of which, and at several intermediate
places, work has been done." After passing Moore's Falls by
means of locks, we again had recourse to our oars, and went
merrily on our way, driving the small sandpiper from rock to rock
before us, and sometimes rowing near enough to a cottage on the
bank, though they were few and far between, to see the sunflowers,
and the seed vessels of the poppy, like small goblets filled with
the water of Lethe, before the door, but without disturbing the
sluggish household behind.
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