POEMS.

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

WANDERINGS IN JUNE.

____

THE season now is all delight,

Sweet smile the passing hours,

And Summer’s pleasures, at their height,

Are sweet as are her flowers;

The purple morning waken’d soon,

The mid-day’s gleaming din,

Grey evening with her silver moon,—

Are sweet to mingle in.

While waking doves betake to flight

From off each roosting bough, 10

While Nature’s locks are wet with night,—

How sweet to wander now!

₁₈₆^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Fast fade the vapours cool and grey,

The red sun waxes strong,

And streaks on labour’s early way

His shadows lank and long.

Serenely sweet the Morning comes

O’er the horizon’s sweep,

And calmly breaks the wakening hums

Of Nature’s nightly sleep. 20

What rapture swells with every sound

Of Morning’s maiden hours!

What healthful feelings breathe around!

What freshness opes the flowers!

Each tree and flower, in every hue

And varied green, are spread,

As fair and frail as drops the dew

From off each blooming head;

Like to that beauty which beguiles

The eyes of wondering men, 30

Led blushing to perfection’s smiles

₁₈₆ And left to wither then.

₁₈₇^{……………………………………………………………………………}

How strange a scene has come to pass

Since Summer ’gan its reign!

Spring flowers are buried in the grass,

To sleep till Spring again:

Her dew-drops Evening still receives

To gild the morning hours;

But dew-drops fall on open’d leaves

And moisten stranger-flowers. 40

The artless daisies’ smiling face

My wanderings find no more;

The king-cups that supplied their place,

Their golden race is o’er;

And clover heads, with ruddy bloom,

That blossom where these fell,

Ere Autumn’s fading mornings come

Shall meet their grave as well.

Life’s every beauty fades away,

And short its worldly race; 50

Change leads us round its varied day,

₁₈₇ And strangers take our place:

₁₈₈^{……………………………………………………………………………}

On Summers past, how many eyes

Have waken’d into bliss,

That Death’s eclipsing hand denies

To view the charms of this!

The open flower, the loaded bough,

The fields of spindling grain,

Were blooming then the same as now,

And so will bloom again: 60

When with the past my being dies,

Still summer suns shall shine,

And other eyes shall see them rise

When death has darkened mine.

Reflection, with thy mortal shrouds

When thou dost interfere,

Though all is gay, what gloomy clouds

Thy musings shadow here!

To think of summers yet to come,

That I am not to see! 70

To think a weed is yet to bloom

₁₈₈ From dust that I shall be!

₁₈₉^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The misty clouds of purple hue

Are fading from the eye;

And ruddy streaks, which morning drew,

Have left a dappled sky;

The sun has call’d the bees abroad,

Wet with the early hour,

By toiling for the honey’d load

Ere dews forsake the flower. 80

O’er yonder hill, a dusty rout

Wakes solitude from sleep;

Shepherds have wattled pens about,

To shear their bleating sheep:

Less pleasing is the public way,

Traced with awaken’d toil;

And sweet are woods shut out from day,

Where sunbeams never smile.

The woodbines, fresh with morning hours,

Are what I love to see: 90

The ivy-spreading darksome bowers,

₁₈₉ Is where I love to be;

₁₉₀^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Left there, as when a boy to lie

And talk to flower and tree,

And fancy, in my ecstasy,

Their silence answers me.

While some desire tumultuous joys,

And shun what nature wears;

Give me the choice which they despise,

And I’ll not sigh for theirs;— 100

The shady wild, the summer dreams

Enjoying there at will,

The whispering voice of woods and streams

That breathe of Eden still.

How sweet the fanning breeze is felt,

Breathed through the dancing boughs!

How sweet the rural noises melt

From distant sheep and cows!

The lovely green of wood and hill,

The hummings in the air, 110

Serenely in my breast instil

₁₉₀ The rapture reigning there.

₁₉₁^{……………………………………………………………………………}

To me how sweet the whispering winds,

The woods again how sweet,—

To find the peace which freedom finds,

And from the world retreat;

To stretch beneath a spreading tree,

That far its shadow shoots,

While by its side the water free

Curls through its twisted roots. 120

Such silence oft be mine to meet

In leisure’s musing hours;

Oft be a fountain’s brink my seat—

My partners, birds and flowers:

No tumult here creates alarm,

No pains our follies find;

Peace visits us in every calm,

Health breathes every in wind.

Now cool the wood my wanderings shrouds,

’Neath arbours Nature weaves, 130

Shut up from viewing fields and clouds,

₁₉₁ And buried deep in leaves;

₁₉₂^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The sounds without amuse me still,

Mixt with the sounds within,—

The scythe with sharpening tinkles shrill,

The cuckoo’s soothing din.

The eye, no longer left to range,

Is pent in narrowest bound,

Yet Nature’s works, unnamed and strange,

My every step surround; 140

Things small as dust, of every dye,

That scarce the sight perceives,

Some clad with wings fly droning by,

Some climb the grass and leaves.

And flowers these darksome woodlands rear,

Whose shades they yearly claim,

That Nature’s wond’rous mystery wear,

And bloom without a name:

What different shapes in leaves are seen

That o’er my head embower, 150

Clad in as many shades of green

₁₉₂ As colours in the flower!

₁₉₃^{……………………………………………………………………………}

My path now gleams with fairer light,

The side approaches near,

A heath now bolts upon the sight,

And rabbit-tracks appear:

I love the heath, though ’mid the brakes

Fear shudders, trampling through,

Oft check’d at things she fancies snakes

Quick nestling from the view. 160

Yet where the ground is nibbled bare

By rabbits and by sheep,

I often fearless loiter there,

And think myself to sleep.

Dear are the scenes which Nature loves,

Where she untamed retires,

Far from the stretch of planted groves,

Which polish’d taste admires.

Here oft, though grass and moss are seen

Tann’d brown for want of showers, 170

Still keeps the ling its darksome green,

₁₉₃ Thick set with little flowers;

₁₉₄^{……………………………………………………………………………}

And yonder, mingling o’er the heath,

The furze delights to dwell,

Whose blossoms steel the summer’s breath,

And shed a sultry smell.

Here threat’ning ploughs have tried in vain

To till the sandy soil;

Yon slope, already sown with grain,

Shows Nature mocks the toil;

The wild weeds choak the straggling ears, 180

And motley gardens spread;

The blue-cap there in bloom appears,

And poppies, lively red.

But now my footsteps sidle round

The gently sloping hill,

Now falter over marshy ground,

Yet Nature charms me still:

Here moss, and grass, and flowers appear

Of different forms and hues; 190

And insects too inhabit here,

₁₉₄ Which still my wonder views.

₁₉₅^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Here horsetail, round the water’s edge

In bushy tufts is spread,

With rush, and cutting leaves of sedge

That children learn to dread;

Its leaves, like razors, mingling there

Oft make the youngster turn,

Leaving his rushes in despair,

A wounded hand to mourn. 200

What wonders strike my idle gaze,

As near the pond I stand!

What life its stagnant depth displays,

As varied as the land:

All forms and sizes swimming there,

Some, sheath’d in silvery den,

Oft siling up as if for air,

Then nimbling down again.

Now rising ground permits the plain

To change the restless view, 210

The pathways leading down the lane

₁₉₅ My pleasures still renew.

₁₉₆^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The osier’s slender shade is by,

And bushes thickly spread;

Again the ground is firm and dry,

Nor trembles ’neath the tread.

On this side, ash or oak embowers;

There, hawthorns humbler grow,

With goatsbeard wreath, and woodbine flowers,

That shade a brook below, 220

Which feebly purls its rippling moans

With summer draining dry,

Till struttles, as I step the stones,

Can scarcely struggle by.

Now soon shall end these musing dreams

In solitude’s retreat;

The eye that dwelt on woods and streams

The village soon shall meet:

Nigh on the sight the steeple towers;

The clock, with mellow hum, 230

Counts out the day’s declining hours,

₁₉₆ And calls my ramblings home.

₁₉₇^{……………………………………………………………………………}

I love to visit Spring’s young blooms

When wet with April showers;

Nor feel less joy, when Summer comes,

To trace her darker bowers;

I love to meet the Autumn winds

Till they have mourn’d their last;

Nor less delight my journey finds

₁₉₇ In Winter’s howling blast. 240

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

TO * * * *

____

O LOVELY Maid! though thou art all

That Love could wish to find thee,

Of frailties that to charms may fall

Let modest hints remind thee.

Beauty’s a shadow, Love’s a name,

That often leave together;

As flowers that with the summer came

Will fly at winter weather.

Sweet maid, with youth’s fond blushes warm,

And gently swelling bosom, 10

Stealing to woman’s witching form,

Sweet as the bud to blossom;—

₁₉₉^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Be not too vain of Beauty’s powers,

Nor scornful feelings cherish;

Thou’rt but a flower, with other flowers

Which only bloom to perish.

Thou lovely creature, though to thee

All earthly charms are given,

And Beauty vainly bids thee be

What Angels are in heaven; 20

Pity,—thou more than mortals are,—

Aught mortal should belong thee!

But Nature made thee, Angel fair,

₁₉₉ And Age awaits to wrong thee.

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

THE APPROACH OF SPRING.

____

NOW once again, thou lovely Spring,

Thy sight the day beguiles;

For fresher greens the fairy ring,

The daisy brighter smiles:

The winds, that late with chiding voice

Would fain thy stay prolong,

Relent, while little birds rejoice,

And mingle into song.

Undaunted maiden, thou shalt find

Thy home in gleaming woods, 10

Thy mantle in the southern wind,

Thy wreath in swelling buds:

₂₀₁^{……………………………………………………………………………}

And may thy mantle wrap thee round,

And hopes still warm and thrive,

And dews with every morn be found

To keep thy wreath alive.

May coming suns, that tempt thy flowers,

Smile on as they begin;

And gentle be succeeding hours

As those that bring thee in: 20

Full lovely are thy dappled skies,

Pearl’d round with promised showers,

And sweet thy blossoms round thee rise

To meet the sunny hours.

The primrose bud, thy early pledge,

Sprouts ’neath each woodland tree,

And violets under every hedge

Prepare a seat for thee:

As maids just meeting woman’s bloom

Feel love’s delicious strife, 30

So Nature warms to find thee come,

₂₀₁ And kindles into life.

₂₀₂^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Through hedge-row leaves, in drifted heaps

Left by the stormy blast,

The little hopeful blossom peeps,

And tells of winter past;

A few leaves flutter from the woods,

That hung the season through,

Leaving their place for swelling buds

To spread their leaves anew. 40

’Mong wither’d grass upon the plain,

That lent the blast a voice,

The tender green appears again,

And creeping things rejoice;

Each warm bank shines with early flowers,

Where oft a lonely bee

Drones, venturing on in sunny hours,

Its humming song to thee.

The birds are busy on the wing,

The fish play in the stream; 50

And many a hasty curdled ring

₂₀₂ Crimps round the leaping bream;

₂₀₃^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The buds unfold to leaves apace,

Along the hedge-row bowers,

And many a child with rosy face

Is seeking after flowers.

The soft wind fans the violet blue,

Its opening sweets to share,

And infant breezes, waked anew,

Play in the maidens’ hair— 60

Maidens that freshen with thy flowers,

To charm the gentle swain,

And dally, in their milking hours,

With lovers’ vows again.

Bright dews illume the grassy plain,

Sweet messengers of morn,

And drops hang glistening after rain

Like gems on every thorn;

What though the grass is moist and rank

Where dews fall from the tree, 70

The creeping sun smiles on the bank

₂₀₃ And warms a seat for thee.

₂₀₄^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The eager morning earlier wakes

To glad thy fond desires,

And oft its rosy bed forsakes

Ere night’s pale moon retires;

Sweet shalt thou feel the morning sun

To warm thy dewy breast,

And chase the chill mist’s purple dun

That lingers in the west. 80

Her dresses Nature gladly trims,

To hail thee as her queen,

And soon shall fold thy lovely limbs

In modest garb of green:

Each day shall like a lover come

Some gifts with thee to share,

And swarms of flowers shall quickly bloom

To dress thy golden hair.

All life and beauty warm and smile

Thy lovely face to see, 90

And many a hopeful hour beguile

₂₀₄ In seeking joys with thee:

₂₀₅^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The sweetest hours that ever come

Are those which thou dost bring,

And sure the fairest flowers that bloom

Are partners of the Spring.

I’ve met the Winter’s biting breath

In Nature’s wild retreat,

When Silence listens as in death,

And thought its wildness sweet; 100

And I have loved the Winter’s calm

When frost has left the plain,

When suns that morning waken’d warm

Left eve to freeze again.

I’ve heard in Autumn’s early reign

Her first, her gentlest song;

I’ve mark’d her change o’er wood and plain,

And wish’d her reign were long;

Till winds, like armies, gather’d round,

And stripp’d her colour’d woods, 110

And storms urged on, with thunder-sound,

₂₀₅ Their desolating floods.

₂₀₆^{……………………………………………………………………………}

And Summer’s endless stretch of green,

Spread over plain and tree,

Sweet solace to my eyes has been,

As it to all must be;

Long I have stood his burning heat,

And breathed the sultry day,

And walk’d and toil’d with weary feet,

Nor wish’d his pride away. 120

But oft I’ve watch’d the greening buds

Brush’d by the linnet’s wing,

When, like a child, the gladden’d woods

First lisp the voice of Spring;

When flowers, like dreams, peep every day,

Reminding what they bring;

I’ve watch’d them, and am warn’d to pay

₂₀₆ A preference to Spring.

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

TO THE COWSLIP.

____

ONCE more, thou flower of childish fame,

Thou meet’st the April wind;

The self-same flower, the very same

As those I used to find.

Thy peeps, tipt round with ruddy streak,

Again attract mine eye,

As they were those I used to seek

Full twenty summers by.

But I’m no more akin to thee,

A partner of the Spring; 10

For Time has had a hand with me,

And left an alter’d thing:—

₂₀₈^{……………………………………………………………………………}

A thing that’s lost thy golden hours,

And all I witness’d then,

Mix’d in a desert, far from flowers,

Among the ways of men.

Thy blooming pleasures, smiling, gay,

The seasons still renew;—

But mine were doom’d a stinted stay,

Ah, they were short and few! 20

The every hour that hurried by,

To eke the passing day,

Lent restless pleasures wings to fly

Till all were flown away.

Blest flower! with spring thy joys begun,

And no false hopes are thine;

One constant cheer of shower and sun

Makes all thy stay divine.

But my May-morning quickly fled,

And dull its noon came on,— 30

And Happiness is past and dead

₂₀₈ Ere half that noon is gone.

₂₀₉^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Ah! smile and bloom, thou lovely thing!

Though May’s sweet days are few,

Still coming years thy flowers shall bring,

And bid them bloom anew.

Man’s Life, that bears no kin to them,

Past pleasures well may mourn:

No bud clings to its withering stem—

₂₀₉ No hope for Spring’s return. 40

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

THE DREAM.

Thou scarest me with dreams.—JOB.

____

WHEN Night’s last Hours, like haunting spirits, creep

With listening terrors round the couch of sleep;

And Midnight, brooding in its deepest dye,

Seizes on Fear with dismal sympathy;

“I dream’d a dream” something akin to Fate,

Which Superstition’s blackest thoughts create,—

Something half natural to the grave that seems,

Which Death’s long trance of slumber haply dreams;

A dream of staggering horrors, and of dread,

Whose shadows fled not when the vision fled, 10

But clung to Memory with their gloomy view,

Till Doubt and Fancy half believed it true.

₂₁₁^{……………………………………………………………………………..…………}

That time was come, or seem’d as it was come,

When Death no longer makes the grave his home;

When waking spirits leave their earthly rest

To mix for ever with the damn’d or blest;

When years, in drowsy thousands counted by,

Are hung on minutes with their destiny:

When Time in terror drops his draining glass,

And all things mortal, like to shadows, pass, 20

As ’neath approaching tempests sinks the sun—

When Time shall leave Eternity begun.

Life swoon’d in terror at that Hour’s dread birth;

As in an ague, shook the fearful Earth;

And shuddering Nature seem’d herself to shun;

Whilst trembling Conscience felt the deed was done.

A gloomy sadness round the sky was cast,

Where clouds seem’d hurrying with unusual haste;

Winds urged them onward, like to restless ships;

And Light dim faded in its last eclipse: 30

And Agitation turn’d a straining eye;

And Hope stood watching like a bird to fly,

While suppliant Nature, like a child in dread,

₂₁₁ Clung to her fading garments till she fled.

₂₁₂^{……………………………………………………………………………….………}

Then awful sights began to be reveal’d,

Which Death’s dark dungeons had so long conceal’d;

Each grave its doomsday-prisoner resign’d,

Bursting in noises like a hollow wind;

And spirits, mingling with the living then,

Thrill’d fearful voices with the cries of men. 40

All flying furious, grinning deep despair,

Shaped dismal shadows on the troubled air:

Red lightning shot its flashes as they came,

And passing clouds seem’d kindling into flame;

And strong and stronger came the sulphury smell,

With demons following in the breath of hell,

Laughing in mockery as the doom’d complain’d,

Losing their pains in seeing others pain’d.

Fierce raged Destruction, sweeping o’er the land,

And the last counted moment seem’d at hand: 50

As scales near equal hang the earnest eyes

In doubtful balance which shall fall or rise,

So, in the moment of that crashing blast,

Eyes, hearts, and hopes paused trembling for the last.

Loud burst the thunder’s clap, and yawning rents

₂₁₂ Gash’d the frail garments of the elements;

₂₁₃^{………………………………………………………………………………………}

Then sudden whirlwinds, wing’d with purple flame

And lightnings’ flash, in stronger terrors came;

Burning all life and nature where they fell,

And leaving earth as desolate as hell. 60

The pleasant hues of woods and fields were past,

And Nature’s beauties had enjoyed their last:

The colour’d flower, the green of field and tree,

What they had been, for ever ceased to be:

Clouds, raining fire, scorch’d up the hissing dews;

Grass shrivell’d brown in miserable hues;

Leaves fell to ashes in the air’s hot breath,

And all awaited universal Death.

The sleepy birds, scared from their mossy nest,

Beat through the evil air in vain for rest; 70

And many a one, the withering shades among,

Waken’d to perish o’er its brooded young.

The cattle, startled with the sudden fright,

Sicken’d from food, and madden’d into flight;

And steed and beast in plunging speed pursued

The desperate struggle of the multitude.

The faithful dogs yet knew their owners’ face,

₂₁₃ And cringing follow’d with a fearful pace,

₂₁₄^{………………………………………………………………………………………}

Joining the piteous yell with panting breath,

While blasting lightnings follow’d fast with death; 80

Then, as Destruction stopt the vain retreat,

They dropp’d, and dying lick’d their masters’ feet.

When sudden thunders paus’d, loud went the shriek,

And groaning agonies, too much to speak,

From hurrying mortals, who, with ceaseless fears

Recall’d the errors of their vanish’d years;

Flying in all directions, hope-bereft,

Follow’d by dangers that would not be left;

Offering wild vows, and begging loud for aid,

Where none was nigh to help them when they pray’d. 90

None stood to listen, or to soothe a friend,

But all complain’d, and sorrow had no end:

Sons from their fathers, fathers sons did fly,

The strongest fled, and left the weak to die;—

Pity was dead:—none heeded for another,—

Brother left brother; and the frantic mother

For fruitless safety hurried east and west,

And dropp’d the babe to perish from her breast:

All howling prayers that would be noticed never,

₂₁₄ And craving Mercy that was fled for ever. 100

₂₁₅^{…………………………………………………………………….………………}

While earth, in motion like a troubled sea,

Open’d in gulphs of dread immensity,

Amid the wild confusions of despair,

And buried deep the howling and the prayer

Of countless multitudes, and closed—and then

Open’d, and swallow’d multitudes again.

Stars drunk with dread roll’d giddy from the heaven,

And staggering worlds like wrecks in storms were driven;

The pallid moon hung fluttering on the sight,

As startled bird whose wings are stretch’d for flight; 110

And o’er the east a fearful light begun

To show the sun rise—not the morning sun,

But one in wild confusion, doom’d to rise

And drop again in horror from the skies—

To heaven’s midway it reel’d, and changed to blood,

Then dropp’d, and Light rush’d after like a flood.

The heaven’s blue curtains rent and shrank away,

And heaven itself seem’d threaten’d with decay;

While hopeless Distance with a boundless stretch

₂₁₅ Flash’d on Despair the joy it could not reach, 120

₂₁₆^{…………………………………………………………………………….………}

A moment’s mockery—ere the last dim light

Vanish’d, and left an everlasting Night:

And with that light Hope fled, and shriek’d farewell,

And Hell in yawning echoes mock’d that yell.

Now Night resum’d her uncreated vest,

And Chaos came again, but not its rest;

The melting glooms, that spread perpetual stains,

Kept whirling on in endless hurricanes;

And tearing noises, like a troubled sea,

Broke up that silence which no more would be. 130

The reeling earth sank loosen’d from its stay,

And Nature’s wrecks all felt their last decay.

The yielding, burning soil, that fled my feet,

I seem’d to feel, and struggled to retreat;

And ’midst the dreads of horror’s mad extreme

I lost all notion of its being a dream:

Sinking, I fell through depths that seem’d to be

As far from fathom as Eternity;

While dismal faces on the darkness came,

₂₁₆ With wings of dragons, and with fangs of flame, 140

₂₁₇^{…………………………………………………………………………..…………}

Writhing in agonies of wild despairs,

And giving tidings of a doom like theirs.

I felt all terrors of the damn’d, and fell

With conscious horror that my doom was hell:

And Memory mock’d me, like a haunting ghost,

With light and life and pleasures that were lost.

As dreams turn night to day, and day to night,

So Memory flash’d her shadows of that light

That once bade morning suns in glory rise,

To bless green fields and trees and purple skies, 150

And waken’d life its pleasures to behold;—

That light flash’d on me, like a story told;

And days misspent with friends and fellow men,

And sins committed,—all were with me then.

The boundless hell, where tortures never tire,

Glimmer’d beneath me like a world on fire:

That soul of fire, like to its souls entomb’d,

Consuming on, and ne’er to be consumed,

Seem’d nigh at hand—where oft the sulphury damps

O’er-aw’d its light, as glimmer dying lamps, 160

Spreading a horrid gloom from side to side,

₂₁₇ A twilight scene of terrors half descried.

₂₁₈^{…………………………………………………………………….……………}

Sad boil’d the billows of that burning sea,

And Fate’s sad yellings dismal seem’d to be;

Blue roll’d its waves with horrors uncontroll’d,

And its live wrecks of souls dash’d howling as they roll’d.

Again I struggled, and the spell was broke,

And ’midst the laugh of mocking ghosts I woke;

My eyes were open’d on an unhoped sight—

The early morning and its welcome light, 170

And, as I ponder’d o’er the past profound,

₂₁₈ I heard the cock crow, and I blest the sound.

^{…………………………………………………………………………..…………}

LIFE, DEATH, AND ETERNITY.

____

A SHADOW moving by one’s side,

That would a substance seem,—

That is, yet is not,—though descried—

Like skies beneath the stream;

A tree that’s ever in the bloom,

Whose fruit is never rife;

A wish for joys that never come,—

Such are the hopes of Life.

A dark, inevitable night,

A blank that will remain; 10

A waiting for the morning light,

Where waiting is in vain;

₂₂₀^{…………………………………………………………………….}

A gulph, where pathway never led

To show the depth beneath;

A thing we know not, yet we dread,—

That dreaded thing is Death.

The vaulted void of purple sky

That every where extends,

That stretches from the dazzled eye,

In space that never ends; 20

A morning whose uprisen sun

No setting e’er shall see;

A day that comes without a noon,—

₂₂₀ Such is Eternity.

^{…………………………………………………………………….}

THE LAST OF AUTUMN.

____

COME, bleak November, in thy wildness come:

Thy mornings clothed in rime, thy evenings chill;

E’en these have power to tempt me from my home,

E’en these have beauty to delight me still.

Though Nature lingers in her mourning weeds,

And wails the dying year in gusty blast,

Still added beauty to the last proceeds,

And wildness triumphs when her bloom is past.

Though long grass all the day is drench’d in dew,

And splashy pathways lead me o’er the greens; 10

Though naked fields hang lonely on the view,

Long lost to harvest and its busy scenes;

₂₂₂^{…………………………………………………………………….}

Yet in the distance shines the painted bough,

Leaves changed to every colour ere they die,

And through the valley rivers widen now,

Once little brooks which summer dribbled dry.

Here ragged boys, pleased with the change of scene,

Try new inventions of their infant skill,

Leaving their leap-frog races on the green,

To watch the waves and build the dashing mill; 20

Or where the mole-hill island lifts its head,

There form the castle with its guarding moat,

And o’er the jumping waves, with little dread,

Turn nut-shell boats and paper ships afloat.

On bridge-wall sitting, by such scenes as these,

I meet with pleasures that can please for hours;

Mix’d in the uproar of those little seas,

That roll their floods where summer left her flowers.

A wild confusion hangs upon the ear,

And something half romantic meets the view; 30

Arches half filled with wither’d leaves appear,

₂₂₂ Where white foam stills the billow boiling through.

₂₂₃^{…………………………………………………………………….}

Those yellow leaves that litter on the grass,

’Mong dry brown stalks that lately blossom’d there,

Instil a mournful pleasure as they pass:

For melancholy has its joy to spare,—

A joy that dwells in Autumn’s lonely walks,

And whispers, like a vision, what shall be,

How flowers shall blossom on those wither’d stalks,

And green leaves clothe each nearly naked tree. 40

Oft in the woods I hear the thundering gun;

And, through the brambles as I cautious creep,

A bustling hare, the threatening sound to shun,

Oft skips the pathway in a fearful leap;

And spangled pheasant, scared from stumpy bush,

Oft blunders rustling through the yellow boughs;

While farther off, from beds of reed and rush,

The startled woodcock leaves its silent sloughs.

Here Echo oft her Autumn ditty sings,

Mocking the cracking whip and yelping hounds, 50

While through the woods the wild disorder rings,

₂₂₃ Chorus’d with hunter’s horns of mellower sounds,

₂₂₄^{…………………………………………………………………….}

And bawling halloos of the sporting train,

Who dash through woodlands, in their gay parade,

And leap the ditch, and sweep the level plain,

Fresh wildness adding to the chequer’d shade.

The timid sheep that huddled from the wind

’Neath the broad oaks, beside the spinney rails,

Half mad with fear such hue and cry to find,

In rattling motion chase adown the vales: 60

And, falsely startled by unheeding dogs,

From where the acorns patter bright and brown,

Through the thorn hedges burst the random hogs,

Who grunt and scamper till they reach the town.

The playing boys, to eke the rude uproar,

Turn hunters some, some mock the yelping hounds,

Whose real barkings urge their noise the more,

And keck-made bugles spout their twanging sounds,

But soon foot-founder’d, youngster hunters lag,

By mounted sportsmen distanced far away, 70

Yet still they chase the fancied fox or stag,

₂₂₄ And feel as happy in the cheat as they.

₂₂₅^{…………………………………………………………………….}

Ah! sweet is boyish joy in Memory’s eye;—

An artless tale with no attending pains,

Save the sad thought,—to feel such pleasures fly;

And the vain hope,—to wish them back again.

How many Autumns brought the woods their guest,

With mimic horns, in hunting sports to join!

How many Autumns since that time have past,

Stretching the distance when such joys were mine! 80

Still joys are mine:—uncertain paths to take

Through the wild woods; to hide and walk at will,

Rustling aside the brown and wither’d brake;

To rest on roots, and think, and linger still.

Though trumpet-kecks are pass’d unheeded by,

Whose hollow stalks inspired such eager joy,

Still other trifles other sports supply,

Which manhood seeks as eager as the boy.

To meanest trifles Pleasure’s hold will cling;

’Tis even felt to view that greening moss; 90

These simple wrecks of summer and of spring—

₂₂₅ Like other children I regret their loss.

₂₂₆^{…………………………………………………………………….}

But there is something in that wind that mourns,

And those black clouds that hide the heav’n as well,

And in that sun, that gilds and glooms by turns,

Which leaves a pleasure that’s unspeakable.

Though nuts have long been glean’d by many crews

Of shatter’d poor, who daily rambled there;

And squirrels claim’d the remnant as their dues;

Still to the woods the hungry boys repair; 100

Brushing the long dead grass with anxious feet,

While round their heads the stirr’d boughs patter down,

To seek the bramble’s jet-fruit, lushy sweet,—

Or climbing service-berries ripe and brown.

Amidst the wreck of perishable leaves,

How fresh and fine appears the evergreen!

How box, or holly, garden-walks relieves!

How bright the ivy round the oak is seen!

And on old thorns the long-leaved mistletoe

Regains fresh beauties as its parent dies; 110

While dark spurge-laurel, on the banks below,

₂₂₆ In stubborn bloom the Autumn blight defies.

₂₂₇^{…………………………………………………………………….}

But garden shades have long been doom’d to fall,

Where naked fruit-trees drop their constant showers:

All blooms are fled, save on the wet moss’d wall

As yet may peep some faded gilliflowers.

The mist and smoke, in shadows mingling deep,

Around each cottage hover all the day;

Through the dim panes the prison’d children peep,

₂₂₇ And look in vain for summer and for play. 120

^{…………………………………………………………………….}

ANTIQUITY.

____

ANTIQUITY! thou dark sublime!

Though Mystery wakes thy song,

Thou dateless child of hoary Time,

Thy name shall linger long!

In vain Age bares Destruction’s arm

To blight thy strength and fame;

Learning still keeps thy embers warm,

And kindles them to flame.

Nay, Learning’s self may turn to dust,

And Ignorance again 10

May leave its glimmering lamp to rust;

Antiquity shall reign!

₂₂₉^{……………………………………………………………………………}

Creation’s self thy date shall be,

And Earth’s age be as thine;

The Sun and Moon are types of thee,

Nor shall they longer shine.

Though Time may o’er thy memory leap,

And Ruin’s frowns encroach;

Eternity shall start from sleep

To hear thy near approach. 20

Though bounds are for thy station set,

Still, ere those bounds are past,

Thy fame with Time shall struggle yet,

And die with Time the last.

Whene’er I walk where thou hast been,

And still art doom’d to be,

Reflection wakens at the scene,

As at Eternity;—

To think what days in millions by

Have bade suns rise and set, 30

O’er thy unwearied gazing eye,

₂₂₉ And left thee looking yet!

₂₃₀^{……………………………………………………………………………}

While those that raised thy early fame

With Hope’s persisting hand,

During as marble left thy name,

And graved their own on sand:

That same sun did its smiles impart,

In that same spreading sky,

When thou wert left; and here thou art,

Like one that cannot die! 40

On the first page that Time unfurl’d,

Thy childhood did appear,

And now thy volume is the World,

And thou art—every where.

Each leaf is fill’d with many a doom

Of kingdoms past away,

Where tyrant Power in little room

Records its own decay.

Thy Roman fame o’er England still

Swells many a lingering scar, 50

Where Cæsars led, with conquering skill,

₂₃₀ Their legions on to war:

₂₃₁^{……………………………………………………………………………}

And camps and stations still abide

On many a sloping hill;

Though Time hath done its all to hide,—

Thy presence guards them still.

The moss that crowns the mountain stone,

The grass that greens the plain,

All love to make thy haunts their own,

And with thy steps remain. 60

And ivy, as thy lasting bower,

In gloomy grandeur creeps,

And, careless of life’s passing hour,

Its endless summer keeps.

I walk with thee my native plains,

As in a nobler clime,

Rapt where thy memory still remains,

Disciple unto Time,

Whose foot in ruins crush’d Power’s fame,

And left its print behind, 70

Till Ruin, weary of its name,

₂₃₁ Their fate to thee resign’d.

₂₃₂^{……………………………………………………………………………}

And ’neath thy care, in mist sublime,

They reign and linger still;—

Though ivy finds no wall to climb,

Grass crowns each swelling hill;

Where slumbering Time will often find

His rebel deeds again,

And turn a wondering look behind

To see them still remain. 80

Thus through the past thy name appears,

All hoary and sublime,

Unburied in the grave of years,

To run its race with Time;

While men, as sunbeams gild the brook,

Shine till a cloud comes on,

And then, ere Time a stride hath took,

Their name and all is gone.

Temple and tower of mighty name,

And monumental bust, 90

Neglect the errands of their fame,

₂₃₂ And mingle with the dust:

₂₃₃^{……………………………………………………………………………}

The clouds of ruin soon efface

What pride had told in vain;

But still thy genius haunts the place,

And long thy steps remain.

Lorn Silence o’er their mystery dreams,

And round them Nature blooms 100

Sad, as a May-flower’s dwelling seems,

With solitary tombs!

’Round where their buried memory sleeps

Spring spreads its dewy sky,

In tender mood, as one that weeps

Life’s faded majesty.

Time’s frost may crumble stubborn towers,

Fame once believed its own;

Thou still art reigning, past his powers,

And ruin builds thy throne: 110

When all is past, the very ground

Is sacred unto thee;

When dust and weeds hide all around,

₂₃₃ That dust thy home shall be.

^{……………………………………………………………………………}

POESY.

____

OH! I have been thy lover long,

Soul-soothing Poesy;

If ’twas not thou inspired the song,

I still owe much to thee:

And still I feel the cheering balm

Thy heavenly smiles supply,

That keeps my struggling bosom calm

When life’s rude storms are high.

Oh! in that sweet romance of life

I loved thee, when a boy, 10

And ever felt thy gentle strife

Awake each little joy:

₂₃₅^{…………………………………………………...…………………….}

To thee was urged each nameless song,

Soul-soothing Poesy;

And as my hopes wax'd warm and strong,

My love was more for thee.

’Twas thou and Nature bound, and smil’d,

Rude garlands round my brow,—

Those dreams that pleased me when a child,

Those hopes that warm me now. 20

Each year with brighter blooms return’d,

Gay visions danced along,

And, at the sight, my bosom burn’d,

And kindled into song.

Springs came not, as they yearly come

To low and vulgar eyes,

With here and there a flower in bloom,

Green trees, and brighter skies:

Thy fancies flush’d my boyish sight,

And gilt its earliest hours; 30

And Spring came wrapt in beauty’s light,

₂₃₅ An angel dropping flowers.

₂₃₆^{………………………………………………………………………….}

Oh! I have been thy lover long,

Soul-soothing Poesy,

And sung to thee each simple song,

With witching ecstasy,

Of flowers, and things that claim’d from thee

Of life an equal share,

And whisper’d soft their tales to me

Of pleasure or of care. 40

With thee, life’s errand all perform,

And feel its joy and pain;

Flowers shrink, like me, from blighting storm,

And hope for suns again:

The bladed grass, the flower, the leaf,

Companions seem to be,

That tell their tales of joy and grief,

And think and feel with me.

A spirit speaks in every wind,

And gives the storm its wings; 50

With thee all nature owns a mind,

₂₃₆ And stones are living things;

₂₃₇^{………………………………………………………………………….}

The simplest weed the Summer gives

Smiles on her as a mother,

And, through the little day it lives,

Owns sister, friend, and brother.

Oh! Poesy, thou heavenly flower,

Though mine a weed may be,

Life feels a sympathising power,

And wakes inspired with thee; 60

Thy glowing soul’s enraptured dreams

To all a beauty give,

While thy impassion’d warmth esteems

The meanest things that live.

Objects of water, earth, or air,

Are pleasing to thy sight;

All live thy sunny smiles to share,

Increasing thy delight;

All Nature in thy presence lives

With new creative claims, 70

And life to all thy fancy gives

₂₃₇ That were but shades and names.

₂₃₈^{………………………………………………………………………….}

Though cheering praise and cold disdain

My humble songs have met,

To visit thee I can’t refrain,

Or cease to know thee yet;

Though simple weeds are all I bring,

Soul-soothing Poesy,

They share the sunny smiles of Spring,

Nor are they scorn’d by thee. 80

THE END.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.

₂₃₈

^{………………………………………………………………………….}