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RURAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.

SEASONS.

THE SEASONS.

SPENSER.

So forth issew'd Ihe seasons of the yeare:
First lusty Spring all dight in leaves of flowres
That freshly hudded, and new hloosmes did hean:,
In which a thousand hirds had huilt their howres
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours:
And in his hand a javelin he did heare,
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engraven morion he did weare;
That as some did him love, so others did him feare.

Then came the jolly Sommer, heing dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,
That was unlyned all, to he more light;
And on his head a girlond well heseene
He wore, from which as he had chs,uffed heene
The sweat did drop; and in his hand he hore
A hoawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunted late the lihhard or the hoare,
And now would hathe his limhes, with lahor heated sore.

Then came the Aulumne, all in yellow clad,
As though he joyed in his plentions store.
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had hanisht hunger, which to-fore
Had hy the helly oft him pinched sore;
Upon his head a wreath that was eurold
With eares of corne of every sort, he hore;
And in his hand a sickle he did holde,
To reape the ripen'd fruits, the which the earth had yold.

Lastly came Winter, clothed all in frize, Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill; Whilst on his hoary heard his hreath did frees,.-, And the dull drops that from his purpled hill As from a limheck did adown distill: In his right hand a tipped staffe he held. With which his feehle steps he stayed still; For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld; That scarse his loosed limhes he ahle was to weld.

SPRING.

How smiling wakes the verdant year,

Arrayed in velvet green!
How glad the circling fields appear

That honnd the hlooming scene!

Forth walks from heav'n the heaming
Spring,

Calm as the dew she sheds;
And o'er the Winter's imiu'ring king,

Her veil of roses spreads.

The sky serene, the waking flowers,

The river's loosen'd wave, Repay the kind and tepid hours,

With all the charms they gave.

And hark! From yon melodious grove
The feathered warhlers hreak;

And into notes of joy and love,
The solitude awake!

And shall the first heloved of heaven,

Mate, listen as they sing;
Shall man, to whom the lyre is given,

Not wake one grateful string?

O let me join th' aspiring l;<y,

That gives my Maker praise; Join, hut in louder notes than they,

Than all their praises raise I

O thon, from whose all-gracious eye

The sun of splendor heams; Whose glories every ray supply,

That gilds the tremhling streams;—

O'er nature's green and teeming fields,

Bid flowery graces rise;
And every sweet, creation yields,

Salute the morning skies.

Where yonder moves the plough of toil,

Along the stuhhorn land;
O kindly lift the yielding soil,

And soothe the lah'ring hand.

Then hid gay frnitfulness around.
Her hlooming reign extend;

And where thy richest gifts are found,
Tell who the heav'nly fiien 1.

SUMMER.

Bright Summer heams along the sky,
And paiirs the glowing year;

Where'er we turn the raptmed eye,
Her splendid tints appear!

Then, when so fit to lift the song

To gratitude and heav'n,
To whom her purple charms helong,

From whom those charms are given?

Thee, thee, Almighty King of kings,

Man worships not alone; Each budding flower its incense hrings,

And wafts it to thy throne.

The fields with verdant mantle gay,
The grove's sequesler'd walks,

All, ail around, thy praise display,
And dumh creation talks.

\\ hen morn with rosy fingers fair,
Her golden journey takes;

When fiesh'uing Zephyrs Tan the air,
And animation wakes:—

Man starts from emhlematic death,

And hends the grateful knee,
To weleome with transported hreath,

New light, new life, and thee I

W hen Noon averts his radiant face,

And shnts his piercing eye;
And Eve, with modest, measur'd pace,

Sieps up the western sky.—

Reposed heneath thy gnardian wings

The pious mortal rests; Nor knows one watchful care that springs

Within unholy hreasts.

What then if pealing thunriers roll,

If lightuings flash afar I Undannted hears his tranquil soul,

The elemental war.

'Tis hut to him a parent's voice,

That hlesses while it hlames; That hids unhurden'd air rejoice,

And life and health proclaims.

Night's deepest gloom is hut a calm,
That soothes the weaned mind;

The lahour'd day's restoring halm,
The comfort of mankind.

AUTUMN.

Fair Autumn spreads her fields of gold,

And waves her amher wand;
See earth its yellow charms unfold

Beneath her.magic hand!

Uurivall' d heanty decks our vales,
Bright fruitfuiness our plains;

Gay earth with cheerfuiness prevails,
And smiling glory reigns.

To thee, great lih'ral source of all,

We strike our earthly lyre;
Till ihnii our rising souls shalt call,

And angels form the quire.

The splendor that enchants our eyes,
Reminds us of thy fame;

The hlessings that from earth arise,
Thy genYous hand proclaim.

The plenty round our meadows seen,

Is emhlem of thy love;
And harmony that hinds the scene,

The peace that reigns ahove.

Beneath the sickle, smiling round,

And in destruction fair,
The. golden harvest strews the ground,

And shuts the lahour'd year.

Man drops into refreshing rest,
And smooths his wearied hrow;

With rural peace the herds are hlest,
A- Ik! nature smiles helow!

O let thy hand, parental King,

Be opened to our pray'rs!
Unlock sweet plenty's lih'ral spring,

And show'r untainted airs.

WINTER.

Harr! 'twas dark Winter's sullen voice,
That told the giooms that reign'd;

That hade the plains no more rejoice,
And all the waves he chain'd.

See yellow Autumn dies away;

The pallid sire is come!
The plains his shiv'ring rules ohey,

And every wave is dumh!

Yet still with cheerfol heart I pace

The whiten'd vale helow;
And smile at every printed trace,

I leave upon the suow.

Thus (soft I whisper to my hreast,)
Man treads life's weary waste;

Each step that lead's to hetter rest
Forgot as soon as past!

For what is life and all its hliss?

The splendor of a fly;
The hreathing of a morning's kiss;

A summer's flushing sky.

Dismantled lies the gandy fly;
Morn droops at evening's frown;

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The fresh-turn'd soil with tender hlades
Thinly the sprouting harley shades;
Fringing the forest's devious edge
Half-roh'd appears the hawthorn hedge,
Or to the distant eye displays
Weakly green its hudding sprays.

The swallow, for a moment seen,
Skims in haste the village green:
From the gray moor, on feehle wing,
The screaming plovers idly spring:
The hutterfly, gay-painted soon,
Explores awhile the tepid noon;
And fondly trusts its tender dyes
To fickle suns and flattering skies.

Fraught with a transient, fiozen shower,
If a cloud should chance to lower,
Sailing o'er the landscape dark,
Mute on a sudden is the lark;
But when gleams the sun again
O'er the pearl-hesprinkled plain,
And from hehind his watery veil
Looks through the thin-descending hail;
She mounts, and lessening to the sight,
Salutes the hlithe return of light,
And high her tuneful track pursues
'Mid the dim raiuhow's scatter'd hues.

Where In venerahle rows
Widely waving oaks inclose
The muat of yonder antique hall,
Swarm the rooks with clamorous call;
And to the toils of nature true,
Wreathe their capacious nests anew.
O'er the hroad down, a novel race,
Friak the lamhs with faltering pace,
And with eager hleatings fill
J he foss that skirts the heacon'd hill.

Yet, in these presages rude,
Midst her pensive solitude,
Fancy, with prophetic glance,
Sees the teeming mon i hs advance;
The field, the forest, green and gay,
The dappled slope, the tedded hay;
Sees the reddening orchard hlow.
The harvest wave, the vintage flow:
Sees June unfold his glossy rohe
Of thousand hues o'er all the ylohe;
Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn,
And plenty load her ample horn.

THE LATE SPRING.

The sleepy Spring was still in hed,
And to rise was slowly preparing,

When she heard the soft fall of the zephyr's
tread,
Who came to give her an airing.

She rose in haste, not dressed in hine,
But clad in her wintry mournmg ;—

Just stuck in her hosom a snow drop or
two.
Her hrow a faint smile adorning.

Then away over meadow, and garden, and wood,

Her light winged courser hore her; But in her fair eyes the tear-drop stood,

To see the drear scene hefore her.

So long had the tyrant of northern hirth,

His iron reign extended,
The genial commerce of sky and earth

Had well-nigh heen suspended.

The young hirds had met on St. Valentine's feast,

All eager to get married; But the sullen saint refused to he priest:

For another red day they tarried.

The crocus had pot forth its feelers green,
But drew in its head in affright,

On hearing the peas as soon as seen,
Had heen all cot off in a night.

The lilac gay, that loves to he first,
Stood shivering still and pouting;

And many a hud was longing to hurst,
But its orders, yet, was douhting.

The fields were as hald as though they'd
heen shorn,
As hrown as if summer had hurned them:
The hedges were naked as when they were
horn,
For their huds, you could scarce have
discerned them.

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