Come boldly on; no venom'd snake
Can shelter in so cool a brake;
Child of the sun, he loves to lie
'Mid nature's embers, parch'd and dry,
Where o'er some tower in ruin laid,
The peepul spreads its haunted shade;
Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe,
Fit warder at the gate of Death.
Come on! yet pause! Behold us now
Beneath the bamboo's arched bough,
Where, gemming oft that sacred gloom,
Glows the geranium's scarlet bloom;
And winds our path through many a bower
Of fragrant tree and giant flower ;
The ceiba's crimson pomp display'd
O'er the broad plantain's humbler shade;
While o'er the brake, so wild and fair,
The betel waves his crest in air;
With pendent train and rushing wings,
Aloft the gorgeous peacock springs;
And he, the bird of hundred dyes,*
Whose plumes the dames of Ava prize;
So rich a shade, so green a sod,
Our English fairies never trod !

Yet who in Indian bowers has stood,

But thought on England's 'good greenwood,' And bless'd beneath the palmy shade,

Her hazel, and her hawthorn glade;

And breathed a prayer-how oft in vain !—
To gaze upon her oaks again?

A truce to thought-the jackal's cry
Resounds like sylvan revelry:

And through the trees, yon failing ray
Will scantly serve to guide our way.
Yet mark, as fade the upper skies,
Each thicket opes ten thousand eyes;
Before, beside us, and above,
The fire-fly lights his lamp of love;
Retreating, chasing, sinking, soaring,
The darkness of the copse exploring ;
While to this cooler air confest,
The broad dhatura bares her breast
Of fragrant scent and virgin white,
A pearl upon the locks of night!
Still as we pass, in soften'd bum,
Along the breezy alleys come
The village song, the horn, the drum :
* The mucharunga.

Still as we pass, from bush to brier
The shrill cigala strikes his lyre;
And what is she whose liquid strain
Thrills through yon copse of sugar-cane?
I know that soul-entrancing swell,
It is it must be-Philomel!

Enough, enough; the rustling trees
Announce a shower upon the breeze;
The flashes of the summer-sky
Assume a deeper, ruddier dye;

Yon lamp that trembles on the stream,
From forth our cabin sheds its beam;
And we must early sleep, to find
Betimes the morning's healthy wind.
But oh with thankful heart, confess,
E'en here there may be happiness;
For He, the bounteous Sire, has given

His peace on earth-His hope of heaven.

Early in the year 1826, Bishop Heber acompanied by Archdeacon Robinson, the learned translator of the Bible into Persian, commenced a visitation of the southern parts of his diocese. At each station he discharged, with earnestness and vigour, the duties of his sacred office; preaching, administering the rite of confirmation, and visiting the various Christian communities in his route, with all his wonted ardour and affection. Oh arriving at Madras, where he was received by the Governor, Sir Thomas Munro, with the utmost consideration and kindness, he was thought by his friends to exhibit some symptoms of declining health, but continued to discharge his episcopal duties with all his former efficiency; and subsequently pursued his southward progress through Combaconum, Tranquebar, and Tanjore, to Trichinopoly. It is superfluous to say, that HEBER did not visit Tanjore (once the abode of SWARTZ, and the place where at the age of seventy-two, that apostle of India had departed this life) without extreme interest. When he saw the numerous body of native Christians-amounting in number to many thousands-who form the Church of that place, he was powerfully affected, and exclaimed, "Here is the strength of the Christian cause in India." The Rajah of Tanjore, who had himself been a pupil of the great Swartz, on being introduced to the Bishop on this occasion, addressed to him a few words not likely to fade from his memory. "I love thee," he said, "because thou lookest so like my dear father Swartz."

On Saturday, the 1st of April, 1826, Bishop Heber, attended of

course by a numerous train, reached Trichinopoly. On the morning of the following day, he preached to a large congregation in the Government Church; and in the evening confirmed nearly fifty persons, explaining to them afterwards, in an earnest and affectionate manner, the nature and use of the rite of confirmation. On returning to his place of abode after the conclusion of this service, the Bishop complained of head-ache, and observed, that from the construction of the church it was a very difficult building to speak in; and that he thought the pulpit was too much elevated. These expressions were thought to indicate a feeling, on his part, of unwonted fatigue; but nothing like serious indisposition was apprehended. On the following morning, the indefatigable prelate rose at day-break, and having first conducted the solemn duty of family worship, he rode to the Mission Station, and administered confirmation in the church to fifteen young persons, performing the service in their native tongue. He then went to the Mission House, investigated the state of the schools, and transacted other necessary business. On returning to his encampment, he went immediately to the apartment of Archdeacon Robinson, who was suffering from illness, and sitting down by the side of his couch, he conversed with him, respecting the affairs of the mission, without any appearance of physical exhaustion, and with all his accustomed ardour and energy. This done, he retired to his own apartment, and having taken off his robes, dated, as was his custom on similar occasions, the address on Confirmation which he had just delivered, "Trichinopoly, April 3, 1826." He then prepared to take a cold bath; a refreshment which he frequently took, and which he had taken on each of the two last preceding days. Whether the chill temperament of the water induced an apoplectic fit, or in what manner death was occasioned, cannot be certainly known. After the lapse of about half an hour, his servant, somewhat alarmed at his protracted absence, entered the bathing-room, and found him lying senseless at the bottom of the bath. Medical aid was immediately procured; but all attempts to restore animation were vain. The freed spirit had returned to God who gave it; the faithful servant had entered into the joy of his Lord.

It would be vain to attempt to describe the grief which this event produced among the immediate friends and followers of Bishop Heber, and which the news of it diffused throughout all ranks of society in British India. Equally general and sincere was the sorrow with which the sad intelligence of his sudden death was received in England. No man, perhaps was ever richer, or more deservedly rich in the affectionate