My brother's lines have indeed fallen unto him in a pleasant, place.
His house is on a warm slope of a hill, looking to the southeast, with a
great wood of oaks and walnuts behind it, and before it many acres of
open land, where formerly the Indians did plant their corn, much of
which is now ploughed and seeded. From the top of the hill one can see
the waters of the great Bay; at the foot of it runs a small river
noisily over the rocks, making a continual murmur. Going thither this
morning, I found a great rock hanging over the water, on which I sat
down, listening to the noise of the stream and the merriment of the
birds in the trees, and admiring the green banks, which were besprinkled
with white and yellow flowers. I call to mind that sweet fancy of the
lamented Anne Broadstreet, the wife of the new Governor of
Massachusetts, in a little piece which she nameth "Contemplations,"
being written on the banks of a stream, like unto the one whereby I was
then sitting, in which the writer first describeth the beauties of the
wood, and the flowing water, with the bright fishes therein, and then
the songs of birds in the boughs over her head, in this sweet and
pleasing verse, which I have often heard repeated by Cousin Rebecca:--
"While musing thus, with contemplation fed,
And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain,
A sweet-tongued songster perched above my head,
And chanted forth her most melodious strain;
Which rapt me so with wonder and delight,
I judged my hearing better than my sight,
And wished me wings with her a while to take my flight.
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