« AnteriorContinuar »
The sprightly hird, whose carol sweet
Thon desolate and dying year!
Yet lovely in thy Iifelessuess,
As heauty stretched upon the hier
In death's clay-cold and dark caress;
There's loveliness in thy decay,
Which hreathes, which lingers round thee
Vet—yet the radiance is not gone
Sweet Sahhath of the year!
While evening lights decay,
Steal from the world away.
Amid thy silent howers,
'Tis sad, hut sweet, to dwell; Where falling leaves and drooping flowers
Around me hreathe farewell.
Along thy sunset skies,
Their glories melt in shade;
Seem lovelier as they fade.
A deep and crimson streak
Thy dying leaves disclose;
'Mid ruin hlooms the rose.
Thy scene each vision hrings
Of heanty in decay; Of fair and early faded things,
Too exquisite to stay.
Of joys that come no more;
Of flowers whose hloom is fled; Of farewells wept upon the shore;
Of friends estranged or dead.
Of all that now may seem,
The vanish'd heanty of a dream,
See the leaves around us falling,
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
"Sons of Adam, (once in Eden,
Hear the lesson we are reading:
"Youth on length of days presuming.
View us, late in heanty hlooming,
"What though yet no losses grieve yon, Gay with health and many a grace!
Let not cloudless skies deceive yon;
"Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay, Thus we preach this truth concerning,
Heaven and earth shall pass away.' •
On the tree of life eternal,
O let all our hopes he laid! This alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a leaf that shall not fade.
0 Winter, ruler of th' inverted year, Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fill'd, Thy hreath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy
cheeks Fring'd with a heard made white with other
snows Than those of age, thy forehead wrapt in
clouds, A leafless hranch thy sceptre, and thy throne A sliding car, indehted to no wheels, But urg'd hy storms along itsslipp'ry way;
1 love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, And dreaded as thou art! Thou hold'st the
sun A pris'ner in the yet nndawning east, Short'ning his journey hetween morn and
noon, And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west; hut kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse and instructive ease, And gathering, at short notice, in one group, The family dispers'd, and fixing thought, Not less dispers'd hy daylight and its cares, I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, homehorn happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturh'd Retirement, and the hours Of long; nninterrupted ev'ning, know.
SONNET TO WINTER.
Thou hast thy heauties : sterner ones I own, Than those of thy precursors; yet'to thee Belong the charms of solemn majesty,
And naked grandeur. Awful is the tone Of thy tempestuous nights, when clonds are
hlown By hurrying winds across the trouhled sky; Pensive, when softer hreezes faintly sigh Through leafless houghs, with ivy overgrown. Thou hast thy decorations too, although Thou art anstere ; thy studded mantle gay With icy hrilliants, which as proudly glow As erst Golcouda's;—and thy pure array Of regal ermine, when the drifted snow Envelopes nature; till her features seem Like pale, like lovely ones, seen when we dream.
WINTER WAKES SPRING.
Mantled in storms;—attended hy the roar Of whirling wiuds, and flight uf showery
snows, Dread Winter comes, and all around him
throws Wide desolation. From his northern store Tempests of hail, and dark-rohed thunders
The gurgling rivulet no longer flows
more. Shall Winter rage for ever? No! the sound Of his rude car shall rouse the slumh'ring
Spring Beneath the kindling sim, the verdant ground Shall hloom again; the groves with music.
ring. Child of distress;—when life's hlack storms
are fled. The rays of heav'nly Spring shall crown thy
WINTER CEDING TO SPRING.
Where now the vital energy, that mov'd, While summer was, the pure and suhtle lymph
Through lh' imperceptihle meand'rin? veins! Of leaf and flow'r 1 It sleeps ; and th' icy I
tonch Of nuprolific winter has impress'd A colii stagnation on the intestine tide: But let the months go round, a few short
months And all shall he restor'd. These nakert shoots, Barren as lances, among which the wind Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes, Shall put their graceful foliage on again, And more aspiring, and with ampler spread Shall hoast new charms, and more than
they have lost. Then each in its peculiar honours clad, Shall puhlish even to the distant eye Its family and trihe. Lahurnum, rich In streaming gold; syringa, iv'ry pure; The scentless and the scented rose; this red And of an humhler growth, the other tall* And throwing up into the darkest gloom Of neighh'iing cypress, or more sahle yew, Her silver gluhes, light as the foamy surf, That the wind severs fi om the hroken wave; The lilac, various in array, now white, Now sanguine, and her heauteous head now
set With purple spikes pyramidal, as if Studious of oi'nament, yet uuresolv'd Which hue she most approv'd, she chose
them all; Copious of flow'rs the woodhine, pale and
wan, But well compensating her sickly looks With never-cloying odours, early and late 1 Hypericum ail hloom, so thick a swarm Of llow'rs, like flies clothingherslender rods, That scarce a leaf appears: mezereon loo, Though leafless, well attir'd, and thick heset With hlushing wreaths, investing every
spray; Alltura with the purple eye; the hroom, Yellow and hright, as hullion unalloy'd, Her hlossoms; and luxuriant ahove all The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant
sweets, The deep dark green of whose ODvarnish'd
leaf Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more
* The guelder-rose.
The hright profusion of her scatter'd stars.— These have heen, and these shall he in their
day: And all this uniform uncolour'd scene Shall he dismantled of its fleecy load, And flush into variety again. From dearth to plenty, and from death tolife. Is Nature's progress, when she lectures uian In hcav'nly truth: evincing, as she makes The grand transition, that there lives and
works A soul in all thing; and that tout U God.
THE SEASONS MORALIZED.
Behold the changes of the skies,
Now, cast around thy raptur'd eyes,
Such the scenes our life displays,
But the soul in gayest hloom,
Ascends ahove the clonds of even,
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read, Lowly, meek, from hlemish free,
In the snow-drop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and hrings along
Life's invigorating suns:
Seems to speak his dying groans.
Summer has a thousand charms,
'Tis his sun that lights and warms,
What, has Autumn left to say
Yes, the heams of milder day
Light appears with early dawn:
See his hleeding heauties dawn
Ev'ning, with a silent pace,
Shows an emhlem of his grace,
HYMN ON THE SEASONS,
These, as they change, Almighty Father!
these Are hut the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of Uice. Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy heauty walks, thy tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields; the softening air is
halm; Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes thy glory in the Summer months With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling
year: And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By hrooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales. Thy hounty shines in Autumn unconfined. And spreads a common feast for all that live, In Winter, awful thou! with clouds and
storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest
roll'd, Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing Riding suhlime, thou hidst the world adore, And humhlest nature with thy northern hlast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force
divine, Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train, Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, Such heauty and heneficence comhined; Shade, uuperceived, so softening into shade; And all so forming an harmonious whole; That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. But, wandering oft, with hrute unconscious
gaze, Man marks not thee; marks not the mighty
hand, That, ever husy, wheels the silent spheres; Works in the secret deep; shoots, streaming
thence, The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring; Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest
forth; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of
Nature, attend ! join, every living soul Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join; and ardent raise One general song I To him, ye vocal gales, Breathe soft, whose spirit in your freshuess
hreathes: Oh, talk of him in solitary glooms! Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving
pine Fills the hrown shade with a religions aweAnd ye, whose holder note is heard afar, Who shake the astonish'd world, lift high to
heaven The impetnous song, and say from whom
yon rage. His praise, ye hrooks, attune; ye tremhliDg
rills; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself; Sound his stupendous praise; whose greater
voice Or hids you roar, or hids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herhs, and fruits, and
flowers, In mingled clouds to him, whose snn exalts, Whose hreath perfumes you, and whose pen.
cil paints. Ye forests, hend; ye harvests, wave to him; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, As home he goes heneath the joyous moon. Great source of day! hest image here helow Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On nature write, with every heam, his praise. The thunder rolls; he hush'd the prostrate
world; While cloud to cloud returns the solemn
hymn. Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks, Retain the sound: the hroad responsive low Ye valleys, raise; for the great Shepherd
reigns; And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands, all awake: a houndless song Burst from the groves; and, when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warhling world asleep, Sweetest of hirds! sweet Philomela! charm The listening shades, and teach the night his praise.
Ye, chief, for whom the whole creation
smiles; At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Crown the great hymn! In swarming cititvast, Assemhled men to the deep organ join The long-resounding voice, oft hreaking
clear, At solemn pauses, through the swelling hase; And, as each mingling flame increases each, In one united ardour, rise to heaven. For me, when I forgot the darling theme, Whether the hlossom hlows, the summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams, Or winter rises in the hlackening east; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to heat. Should fate command me to the utmost verge Of the green earth, to distant harharous
climes, Rivers unknown to song, where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting heam Flames on th' Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to
me; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste, as in the city full; And where he vital hreathes there must he
joy. When even at last the solemn hour shall
come And wing my mystic flight to future worlds;
I cannot go
Where universal love not smiles around.