The legendary :: :: University of Virginia Library

The sun went calmly to his rest, but threw
Upon the purple clouds, as he declined,
His golden mantle. All he left behind
Was beautiful and gorgeous; yet the view
Of the pure sapphire sky above, most drew
And fixed my ravished eye; and to my mind,
No colors in the sunset clouds combined,
Could, like the exquisite cerulean hue
Of that bright heaven, so melt and fire the soul.
Thou mightst have fancied, hadst thou gazed there,
That thou hadst reached the long desired goal
Of the blest spirits from our earth—so fair,
And so serenely soft above my head,
Seemed then that heavenly pavilion spread.

AUTUMNAL PICTURE.
A SKETCH.

See how the forest waves! The gnarled oak
Ev'n bends—and as the unruly wind sweeps through
Its sturdy branches, showers of leaves bestrew
The ground, or diverse fly; the crow, just broke
From out the warring wood, with ominous croak
Wheels heavily through the air; the glorious hue
Of the bright mantle summer lately threw
O'er earth, is gone; and the sere leaves now choak

The turbid fountains and complaining brooks;
The o'ershadowing pines, alone, through which I rove,
Their verdure keep, although it darker looks;
And hark! as it comes sighing through the grove,
The exhausted gale a spirit there awakes,
That wild and melancholy music makes.

THE RAINBOW.
AFTER A SUMMER TEMPEST.

Symbol of peace! lo, there the ethereal bow!
And see, on flagging wing, the storm retreats
Far 'mid the depths of space; and with him fleets
His lurid train—the while in beauty glow
Vale, hill, and sky, once more. How lustrous now
Earth's verdant mantle! and the woods how bright!
Where grass, leaf, flower, are sparkling in the light—
Prompt ever with the slightest breeze to throw
The rain drops to the ground. Within the grove
Music awakes; and from each little throat,
Silent so long, bursts the wild note of love;
The hurried babblings of the rill denote
Its infant joy; and rushing swift along,
The torrent gives to air, its hoarse and louder song.

SUNLIGHT AT EVENING.

How beautifully soft it seems to sleep
Upon the lap of the unbreathing vale,
And where, unruffled by the gentlest gale,
The lake its bosom spreads, and in its deep,
Clear wave, another world appears to keep,

To steal the heart from this! for through the veil
Transparent we may see, tree, rock, hill, dale,
And sapphire sky, and golden mountain steep,
That real seem, though fairer than our own;—
Still, picture faint of that pure region drawn
By prophet's pen, but not to mortal shown,
Where flow rivers of bliss—and vale, and lawn
Are strewn with flowers immortal—where, alone,
Night never comes, and day is without dawn.