 | The British Months |  |
Two thirds of the year elapsed. Sensible diminution of the light. Fruitfulness of the month. Prosecution of the harvest. The Harvest Moon. Opinion concerning the phænomenon in former times. Part of the general course of nature. A similar phænomenon every month. Gratitude nevertheless due to divine Providence. Bountiful distribution of her light
September comes: the waning year
Two portions of his just career
Has now fulfill'd; a third remains,
Or ere of age full ripe the reins
He of his transient rule decline,
And to a new-born heir resign.
Two portions of his just career
Has now fulfill'd; a third remains,
Or ere of age full ripe the reins
He of his transient rule decline,
And to a new-born heir resign.
September comes. The lingering morn,
Each change to later splendour born;
The advancing eve, each change array'd
In earlier and in denser shade;
The conflict shew of daily light,
Diminish'd by the incroaching night:
Till each shall soon with equal powers
Divide the parti-colour'd hours,
In trains, exact of tale, arranged;
And, ere again the month be changed,
The usurper Night's superior sway
Be stablish'd o'er the yielding Day.
Each change to later splendour born;
The advancing eve, each change array'd
In earlier and in denser shade;
The conflict shew of daily light,
Diminish'd by the incroaching night:
Till each shall soon with equal powers
Divide the parti-colour'd hours,
In trains, exact of tale, arranged;
And, ere again the month be changed,
The usurper Night's superior sway
Be stablish'd o'er the yielding Day.
Meanwhile to glad September's dawn,
Together hath mild Autumn drawn
Rich gifts from nature's bounteous stores;
And still about his footsteps pours
Profusely from the copious horn
Fruits well-matur'd and yellow corn.
Together hath mild Autumn drawn
Rich gifts from nature's bounteous stores;
And still about his footsteps pours
Profusely from the copious horn
Fruits well-matur'd and yellow corn.
Now to the cornfield, ye, whose hands
The unfinish'd harvest still demands!
While still the season mild allows
Unharm'd the ripen'd grain to house,
And earlier nights and shorter days
Prohibit yet prolong'd delays;
Speed forth incessant to complete
The gathering of the golden wheat;
Or if the oat his pendents rear
O'erarch'd; or barley's bristling ear
Still standing crave your care to stow
Its treasures in the swelling mow.
The unfinish'd harvest still demands!
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Unharm'd the ripen'd grain to house,
And earlier nights and shorter days
Prohibit yet prolong'd delays;
Speed forth incessant to complete
The gathering of the golden wheat;
Or if the oat his pendents rear
O'erarch'd; or barley's bristling ear
Still standing crave your care to stow
Its treasures in the swelling mow.
Time presses: haste not then away
Impatient with the setting day!
Nor, though in twilight veil'd the sun
Have now his daily journey run,
Cease ye the busy work to ply!
For, lo! his substitute on high,
As if to warn you not to close
Your toil in premature repose;
As if to prompt you still to wield
The sickle 'mid the harvest field;
With face benign and fair display'd
At once to monish and to aid;
Eve after eve to glad the scene,
With brief the intervals between
Her risings each successive night;
Eve after eve with aspect bright
Scarce minish'd, nature's timely boon,
Comes forth full-orb'd the Harvest Moon.
Impatient with the setting day!
Nor, though in twilight veil'd the sun
Have now his daily journey run,
Cease ye the busy work to ply!
For, lo! his substitute on high,
As if to warn you not to close
Your toil in premature repose;
As if to prompt you still to wield
The sickle 'mid the harvest field;
With face benign and fair display'd
At once to monish and to aid;
Eve after eve to glad the scene,
With brief the intervals between
Her risings each successive night;
Eve after eve with aspect bright
Scarce minish'd, nature's timely boon,
Comes forth full-orb'd the Harvest Moon.
More apt to notice what they saw
Contented, than the veil to draw
Aside with philosophick mind,
And search the cause which lurks behind;
Good simple hearts there were of old,
Which, as they fail'd not to behold
Each night the harvest moon arise
Benignant in the autumnal skies,
The parting sun's bright rod assume,
And twilight's gathering shade illume,
Deem'd it with meek and grateful sense
A special act of Providence;
That the rich harvest fruits, which God
Had in his bounty shed abroad,
By that clear cresset men might see
To reap; and in their granary,
Ere the bright season past away,
Secure the golden treasure lay.
Contented, than the veil to draw
Aside with philosophick mind,
And search the cause which lurks behind;
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Which, as they fail'd not to behold
Each night the harvest moon arise
Benignant in the autumnal skies,
The parting sun's bright rod assume,
And twilight's gathering shade illume,
Deem'd it with meek and grateful sense
A special act of Providence;
That the rich harvest fruits, which God
Had in his bounty shed abroad,
By that clear cresset men might see
To reap; and in their granary,
Ere the bright season past away,
Secure the golden treasure lay.
And what, if no peculiar cause,
Beyond the course of nature's laws,
Thus gives the harvest moon to shine:—
What, if that bounteous care benign
Be but a portion of the whole
Stupendous plan, which bids her roll
Her silver orb through heav'n's high way
In course oblique, that so her ray
May best to all beneath the sky
Its light, as most they need, supply:—
What, though to those, who mark aright
Each monthly course with watchful sight,
Each month at times her rising sphere
With small the intervals appear,
What times you see her path decline
Least from the horizontal line,
Though notic'd most in autumn eves,
When her expanded face receives
The western sun's departing rays,
And back returns the full-orb'd blaze
Reflected from her mirrour sheen;
And reapers by her beams serene
Behold postpon'd the approaching night,
And bless the salutary light:—
Shall we for this the rather fail
With meek and grateful heart to hail
The wisdom, goodness, and the might;
Which made “the moon to rule the night;”
Taught at her birth to know the time,
Both when to quit, and when to climb,
The heavenly slope; with lamp divine,
When needed most, the most to shine;
In equatorial skies to gleam
With nor prolong'd nor shorten'd beam;
At the dark poles, or south or north,
To go with welcome brightness forth,
And, half her course, undimm'd supply
Effulgence to the sunless sky;
In this our intermediate space
To hold a fluctuating place,
And through her monthly season range
With ever varying interchange:
But most, when autumn most requires
The cresset of her useful fires,
To glad the farmer's longing sight,
And bless him with the harvest light?
Beyond the course of nature's laws,
Thus gives the harvest moon to shine:—
What, if that bounteous care benign
Be but a portion of the whole
Stupendous plan, which bids her roll
Her silver orb through heav'n's high way
In course oblique, that so her ray
May best to all beneath the sky
Its light, as most they need, supply:—
What, though to those, who mark aright
Each monthly course with watchful sight,
Each month at times her rising sphere
With small the intervals appear,
What times you see her path decline
Least from the horizontal line,
Though notic'd most in autumn eves,
When her expanded face receives
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And back returns the full-orb'd blaze
Reflected from her mirrour sheen;
And reapers by her beams serene
Behold postpon'd the approaching night,
And bless the salutary light:—
Shall we for this the rather fail
With meek and grateful heart to hail
The wisdom, goodness, and the might;
Which made “the moon to rule the night;”
Taught at her birth to know the time,
Both when to quit, and when to climb,
The heavenly slope; with lamp divine,
When needed most, the most to shine;
In equatorial skies to gleam
With nor prolong'd nor shorten'd beam;
At the dark poles, or south or north,
To go with welcome brightness forth,
And, half her course, undimm'd supply
Effulgence to the sunless sky;
In this our intermediate space
To hold a fluctuating place,
And through her monthly season range
With ever varying interchange:
But most, when autumn most requires
The cresset of her useful fires,
To glad the farmer's longing sight,
And bless him with the harvest light?
| The British Months | |