125
SUMMER, AND SUMMER FLOWERS.
Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock, coloured greene,
That was unlyned all, to be more light:
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, from which, as he had chauffed beene,
The sweat did drop, and in his hand he bore
A bowe and shafts, as he in forest greene
Had hunted late the libbard or the bore,
And now would bathe his limbs with labour heated sore.
Such is Spenser's quaint description of Summer in the procession of the seasons and months before quoted from; and it is a good portrait of the sultry part of the season in warmer climes than ours. Compared with the volumes of verse dedicated to Spring, Summer has found few laureates; the rather that its attributes have been joined to those of its blithe forerunner, than from any lack of love for its own boundless wealth and beauty.
Thomson, whose division of praise among the four seasons allowed him to pay them distinct attention, in few, but beautiful, words, thus paints the approach of Summer:
From bright'ning fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry hours,
And ever fanning breezes on his way,
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her blushful face; and earth and skies,
All smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
