* * * * * THE RUSTIC DANCE. ELSCHEN. Break forth in music: swell the sound, Till wood and glen re-echo round. Let lute and harp unite, to tell The sweet discourse that in them dwell, And cymbal join its lightest notes; List! on the air how sweet it floats! And rustic feet keep measure free, While all around is harmony. Then swell the sounds—prolong the spell, Till each forgets his wo to tell! * * * * * [Illustration: Painted by G. Morland. Engraved by J. Banister. RURAL LIFE. Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine] * * * * * RURAL LIFE. (ILLUSTRATED.) I left the crowded city, In my sulky, one hot day, Quite tired of noise, and dust, and crowds, And glad to get away; And thought I’d take a famous drive, At least ten miles or more, And have a glance at country life, If I’d never had before. Old Hector seemed as glad as I To leave the rattling street, And dashed along the pleasant road, With footfall light and fleet. Up steep hill-side, o’er level reach, Far down in shady vale, Where blossom never bent its head To rudely passing gale; Right onward, onward, swift and far I kept my rapid way. Till bright, and still, and beautiful, Sweet nature round me lay: Then checked my speed, and let the rein Fall loosely from my hand; And bared my forehead to the kiss Of breezes cool and bland. The dark green wood, the emerald field, On which a silver stream Like chord of molten silver lay Beneath the sunny beam, The blossoms gemming every spot In colors rich and rare, And breathing out their fragrant love To bless the wooing air— Beautiful! All was beautiful, And calm and sweet and pure; With naught from sense of loveliness The spirit to allure. “God made the country,” low I spoke, And meekly bowed my head; “And man the town;” more loud and stern These other words I said. Then down a shady lane I turned, And slowly moved along, Where blossoms filled with odors sweet The air, and birds with song. Soon, from amid some broad old elms, I saw a cottage rise, And soon old Hector’s pace I checked, In sudden, mute surprise. Unseen, I saw, O loveliness! Was ever like displayed In form so chaste and innocent, As in that heavenly maid? I sketched the scene: ’tis sent with this; Now say, in mien and face, Did city maiden ever show Such purity and grace.