University of Virginia Library

A FOREST SCENE.

BY H. PICKERING.

Primeval shades! and ye, majestic woods,
Implanted not by man, but from time's dawn
Successive reared by an Almighty hand,
O welcome to my soul! Your silence breathes
Of peace; while from your inmost depths the voice
Of Nature seems, in whisper soft, to say,—
`These shadowy realms are all my own.' A scene
How wild, how solemn, how magnificent!
'Mid these interminable columns, gray
With the slow lapse of centuries, the eye
Is lost; or when upraised, may strive in vain
To penetrate the dense and leafy roof
That like another firmament extends
High over head. Even the sun's piercing beams
Fall powerless here; and though they fire the heavens,
The twilight of the woods they still refuse
To dissipate. And then what stillness reigns!
Not a leaf stirs; and the few living things
Are motionless. Near where a moss clad trunk
Extends its bulk immense along the earth,

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A solitary hare, with eye askance,
Though silent and unmoved, is couched; the while
At measured intervals, the hermit bird[2]
Breathes forth, in secret, its sweet, mournful note,
Which dying, falls upon the ear, yet not
Disturbs the deep serene. With voice subdued,
I too pour out the promptings of my heart,
And reverent tread the hallowed ground. O God!
How all unworthy are the proudest fanes
For thine exalted worship, when compared
With temples such as this. Vainglorious man,
Or in Ionic grace, or florid pomp
Corinthian, or severer Doric pride,
The marble fabric rears, and dedicates
Ostensibly to thee, yet secret boasts
His forming hand; but thy majestic works
In silent grandeur rise, which heaven's bright hosts
With awe behold, and hymn eternal praise.
And shall not he thou fashionedst from the dust,
And `with surpassing beauty crowned,' thy power
Omnipotent confess, and grateful sound
Through every land the sovereign truth, `Thou reignest?'
Thou art—and were man's lips forever sealed,
That truth immutable would be promulged.
The earth, the invisible air, and the blue depths
Of ocean, all evolve it; 't is inscribed
In golden characters amid the stars;
And every orb that rolls sublime, repeats
This to the listening ear; but 'mid these shades
It sinks with awe upon the heart. Once too,
Ye feather-cinctured race, it fell on yours;
And your stern souls, struck with religious dread,
Prostrate even here, where now I stand, adored
The one, Great Spirit! Be it not then said

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That Nature her magnificence in vain
Had lavished on the desert. Lakes immense,
Like mirrors spread beneath the azure heavens—
Rivers, 'mid thousand tributary streams,
Rolling in tranquil majesty along—
Sky-propping mountains, and impetuous floods
Bounding from steep to steep into the vales—
But more than all, the immeasurable wild
Covering with leafy labyrinths and shade
Mysterious the wide land—a faith sublime
Instilled, and led the Indian up to God.
Yet did he not refrain from murderous strife;
But 'mid these glorious scenes, 'mid Nature's forms
August—worthy themselves to be adored—
Hath steeled his heart, and dyed with human gore
The virgin earth. What wonder, when the sons
Of polished Europe wage insatiate war,
When they, the followers of the Prince of Peace,
Cease not, malevolent, to betray, oppress,
And slay their fellows, that the undaunted race,
Who held a dubious empire o'er the wild,
By latent foes encompassed should delight
In mortal combat. O Almighty God!
Hide me from scenes of carnage; temper thou
Full soon, `man's inhumanity to man,'
And fill my soul with pity for the oppressed.
Nor be this all; O lead me oft to thee;
Give me to wander 'mid these shady haunts,
Henceforth retreats of peace; and with the inspired
Of every age, as with the uncultured tribes
Of nature, to adore thee in thy works,
And in the grandeur and the beauty here,
To view the type of a more glorious world.
 
[2]

Turdus Solitarius.