Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now farewell Summer's fervid sky,
That, while the sun thro' cancer rides,
With chariot slow and feverish eye,
Scorches the beech-clad forest-sides!
And farewell earlier Autumn's milder ray,
Which, the warm labours of the sickle o'er,
Could make the heart of swain industrious gay,
Viewing in barn secure his wheaten store:
What time the social hours moved blithe along,
Urg'd by the nut-brown ale and jolly harvest-song.

II

What different sounds around me rise!
Now midst a barren scene I rove,
Where the rude haum in hillocks lies,
Where the rash sportsman frights the grove.
Ah, cruel sport! ah, pain-awakening sound!
How hoarse your death-note to his listening ear,
Who late, wild-warbled music floating round,
Blest the wild warblers of the rising year;
Who, as each songster strain'd his little throat,
Grateful himself would try the soft responsive note.

III

Yet still in Autumn's fading form
The tender melting charms we trace,
Such as, love's season past, still warm
The sober matron's modest face;

Mild-beaming suns, oft hid by fleeting clouds,
Blue-mantled skies, light-fring'd with golden hues,
Brooks, whose swoln waters mottled leaves o'erspread,
Fields, where the plough its steady course pursues,
And woods, whose many-shining leaves might move
Fancy's poetic hand to paint the orange grove.

IV

Oh! still,—for Fancy is a child—
Still with the circling hours I play,
And feast on hips and blackberries wild,
Like truant school boy gay:
Or eager plunge in cool pellucid stream,
Heedless, that Summer's sultry day is fled;
Or muse, as breathes the flute, some rural theme,
Such theme as Fancy's song may yet bestead;
Or, stretch'd at ease, will teach the listening groves,
In tuneful Maro's strains, some rosy rustic loves.

V

Now bear me to the distant wood,
And bear me to the silent stream,
Were erst I stray'd in serious mood,
Lost in some rapturous dream.
To me, O Hornsey, what retreat so fair?
What shade to me so consecrate as thine?
And on thy banks, poor streamlet, did I care
For all the spring haunts of the tuneful Nine?
Ah! pleasures, how ye lengthen as ye fade!
As spreads the sun's faint orb at twilight's dubious shade!

VI

For, oh pale stream! how many a tear
I mingled in thy waters slow!

E'en midst the blossoms of its year,
Youth takes its tale of woe.
And thus thro' life: for what is human life?
A changeful day, a motley-tinctur'd scene;
How quick succeed the hours of peace and strife!
How sombre tints o'erspread the cheerful green!
E'en while fair Hope lights-up her brightest sky,
She wavers 'midst her doubts, and learns to heave a sigh.

VII

But, lo! the sun now seeks the west,
And, see, the distant landscape dies!
And now, with anxious cares oppress'd,
I view yon dome arise!
Ah! soon, too soon, I give the faint adieu,
And sleeps my song, as fades the cheerful day;

Soon shall the dusky city bound my view,
And hag ey'd Spleen November's call obey.
Ye fields, ye groves, whose every charm could please;
Ye gentle friends, adieu, and, farewell, rural ease.

VIII

Yet field, and grove, and gentle friend,
When Memory bids, shall re-appear;
Quick, where she lifts her wand, ascend
The long-departed year:
The choirs, whose warblings charm'd the youthful spring,
And Summer's glittering tribes, and all that now
Of Autumn fades, their mingled charms shall bring;
And the full year 'mid Winter's reign shall glow;
While Fancy, as the vision'd forms arise,
Shall pencil woods and groves, and streams and purple skies.