Original poems on several subjects :: :: University of Virginia Library

Spring is my theme, with her attendant throng,
That to the covert or the plain belong;
Earth's beauteous tracts that endless forms assume,
The sweets of Nature, and her various bloom;
The gentle sunshine, and soft trickling showers,
The whisp'ring gales, and downy-pinion'd hours,
That ever in their kindly flight display
Something creative of the poet's lay.
On such a theme, O for the Mantuan quill,
To paint with fancy, and correct with skill!
Come, meek-ey'd Genius of the Vernal Year,
Whatever gentle name delights thine ear,
Whether what mortals, or what angels use,
Propitious now be present with the Muse,

While she essays in artless strains to sing
The opening beauties of the new-born Spring .

Pardon the numbers, Young, that, lightly penn'd,
Would to the candour of thy ear pretend,
That candour which solicits still the charge,
To lessen faults, and beauties to enlarge;
Hence to derive what their deserts disclaim,
What sordid riches cannot purchase, fame.
To paint the florid landscape as it blooms,
Swells with fresh sweets, or with deep thickets glooms;
To trace, on raptur'd Fancy's airy wing,
The Progress of the youthful-featur'd Spring,
As boundless round her splendid eye she throws,
On earth and skies her living smile bestows;
This they attempt: O favour the design,
Then shall the Season with new lustre shine;
Then shall the winds in gentler whispers blow,
And limpid streams with softer cadence flow;
Each blossom breathe more rich effluvias round,
And Music charm with sweeter powers of sound:

If, in Life's closing scene of home-felt ease,
Aught can below the songs of angels please;
When but Religion boasts the power to charm,
And not even Death can in approach alarm;
When kings unenvy'd rule Earth's parted ball,
Eternity thy wish, thy hope, thy all.
Eternity!—dread, solemn, pleasing thought,
When Virtue's sons, to the last conflict brought,
Humble, though firm, expectants of the sky,
Like Young have liv'd, like Young have learn'd to die!

Now Winter, warn'd by the revolving sun,
His gloomy period of dominion run,
While a dark mist of vapours round him forms,
From every quarter gathers in his storms,
And locks up all his magazines of cold,
That late requir'd the mantle's thickest fold;
Then, while to follow all his blasts prepare,
O'er the uncultur'd heath, or mountain bare,
Speeds sullen to the North's congenial sky,
Where icy deserts meet his downcast eye;
Where barren tracts immense, to Spring unknown,
With all the depths of wildness overgrown;

Where frightful glooms, scarce visited by day,
Give his collected tempests dreadful play:
Hither, where chaos its first state asserts,
The rugged Tyrant frowningly departs;
But not before, in his reluctant flight,
From some huge promontory's snow-clad height,
He turns, and with indignant groan, as if!
A deluge thunder'd o'er some shatter'd cliff,
Beholds the Empress of the coming year,
Spring, in the chambers of the south appear.
From the bright prospect he averts his face
Invidious, and accelerates his pace.

She comes! the fairest daughter of the skies,
With countenance serene, and starry eyes,
Attended by the dazzling lord of day,
Advancing in his broad ecliptic way.
A camus green, not wove in mortal loom,
Of texture light, and scented with perfume,
In many a shining fold falls loose behind,
And swells, and waves, and wantons in the wind.
An emerald girdle, wrought in curious taste
With mystic figures, binds her slender waist.
Selected flowers, in beauteous order laid,
Encircling her smooth fragrant temples shade.

Down her slopt neck, white as unsullied snow,
In graceful wreaths her liberal tresses flow.
Dependent from her hand, of waxen hue,
A casket richly stor'd, she holds to view,
Where all those objects, various that partake
Of beauty, or in drapery or make,
To charm the studious thought, the pensive hour,
From the tall cedar, to the dew-dropt flow'r,
(Assemblage vast) conceal'd in embryo lie,
Soon to unfold beneath the genial sky:
Luxuriant these, while fostering zephyrs blow,
And all the season's vital fervours glow,
Her gifts restricted by no sordid bound,
She scatters and diffuses all around.

She comes! and with her Peace, Content, and Mirth,
Pleas'd to see Nature's offsprings start to birth;
To see unnumber'd forms of beauty rise,
Where-e'er she glances round her dew-bright eyes;
From Winter's sleep ten thousand objects wake,
Spring into life, and all its sweets partake.
When pale Aurora op'd her feeble eye,
The fleecy clouds that spread the eastern sky;
Or when, in course oblique, the distant sun
His journey, short and comfortless, had run,

The languid streaks, that ting'd the blue expanse,
Were kindly-flitting signs of her advance:
While, in the liquid regions of the air,
To birds of gentler nature yet severe,
The sky-lark, pois'd on elevated wing,
Predictive first made her attempts to sing;
A prelude to that universal song
To ravish from the vocal groves ere long.

She comes! on no ungracious errand sent,
Let sloth not counteract her kind intent;
To lavish plenty with unsparing hand,
At Culture's friendly call, to every land.
Hence, num'rous arts their origin derive,
And Commerce in due vigour kept alive.
Hence, Industry, with unrelaxing hands,
Around a world dispenses her commands.
Hence, new inventions sharpen human wit,
And various duties various objects fit.
Hence, stated labours brace the active nerve,
And from disease the healthful frame preserve.
Hence, from the lawless rage of fierce desires,
The soften'd heart a gentler mold acquires;
To the rough manner, and deportment wild,
Succeeds, at length, the tractable and mild.

Hence, all the tender soft affections rise,
That bind mankind by universal ties;
Those passions, that with noblest ardours burn,
Or of a social, or a patriot turn.
Each office, hence, of kindness and respect,
Which to ennoble serve, while they connect.
Hence, sceptred princes, and the mighty great,
Rob'd in the purple finery of state;
Oft vain distinction to maintain alone,
The distance from a cottage to a throne,
Although but badges of exterior sign,
Which should as proofs but secondary shine.
Hence, in the delicacy of attire,
While all hearts feel their pow'r, all eyes admire,
Woman, the queen of beauty, looks so fair,
So soft, so exquisite, beyond compare;
Through all her frame transfus'd the living ray
Divine, that kindles darkness into day;
Which shot through Nature, on etherial wing,
Changes the gloom of Winter into Spring;
Pierces earth's most retir'd recesses through,
And bids a new creation rise to view:
While not a cherub, blooming from the skies,
Can match the humid splendour of her eyes;

Her outward form in dignity and grace,
Or the mild open glory of her face.

She comes! ye nymphs, and jovial swains, prepare
With choicest gifts to entertain the fair,
Gifts she despises longer to detain,
Than to refund with vast increase of gain.
Let all things wear their softest aspects round,
The landscape polish'd, and improv'd the ground.
Else, will the Goddess with a scornful pride,
Attended by her Graces, turn aside,
Disdaining there to cast her partial eye,
Where all things in a rude disorder lie;
Aside, where greater taste attracts her view,
What art effects, or elegance can do.
Let mantling groves (soon one expansive shade)
Be fitted up to lodge the charming maid;
The flow'ry tribe, which science scarce can count,
The hedge, parterre, the arbour, and the mount,
The copse, the orchard, nursery, and pond,
Pavilion, grot, and labyrinth beyond,
The lengthen'd alley, vista, and cascade,
Attractive all of her fair presence made.

She comes! descending from an amber cloud,
While Nature in grand chorus shouts aloud,

The balm and warmth prolific to infuse,
Through earth's cold womb, and shed the fatt'ning dews;
Thy elder sister, radiant Summer, born,
Mild in the soften'd blushes of the morn.

Up, husbandman! for shame, unactive now!
Up to the manly labours of the plough,
To which alike the monarch, and the clown.
Is for his crook indebted, or his crown.
Adjust your tackle, yoke your well-fed steer,
Behold the quick advances of the year.
For you, the tedious night less lengthen'd grows,
And what it loses to the day bestows.
For you, the skies in ceaseless bounty pour
The lucid dew-drops, or the copious show'r.
From southern climes, for you, the zephyr brings
Congenial mildness on its rosy wings;
To a loose texture yields the kindly land,
That breaks apace, and crumbles to the hand.
Juices, for you, fermenting to and fro,
Through earth's elastic tubes meand'ring flow.
Haste, peasant, to the field, and sidelong lay
The yielding surrow to the pointed ray;
That Spring, arriv'd, may bid the mellow'd soil
Soon amply recompense your honest toil;

That riches, free from all the guilt of trade,
May ease your cares, when youth and vigour fade;
When years and industry have silver'd o'er
Your honour'd locks with venerable hoar;
More venerable thus, in Virtue's sight,
Than the ag'd warriour's from the fields of fight.

She comes! around her lenient zephyrs play,
As, sweetly smiling, on she wins her way,
And copious, from each balm-collecting wing,
The joyful year's ambrosial odours fling;
Diffusive heat breathes in each friendly gale,
And soft'ning spreads along the fertile vale.
In every bush the feather'd quire convene,
With songs to welcome their approaching queen;
Each ardent strains its little quiv'ring throat,
To warble forth a bold unrival'd note;
Sounds infinitely vary'd they practise,
Sink to the lute, or to the clarion rise:
While Echo, sitting in her rocky cell,
On every tone delighted seems to dwell;
Gives a new cadence to each air they sing,
While earth and skies with gratulations ring.

Mean time, with glance ineffable, she looks
On hills, receding valleys, groves, and brooks;

Hills, where no flocks the eye excursive spies,
That rise up in bleak prospect to the skies;
Valleys, of all their flowery pride despoil'd,
Their freshness wither'd, and their beauty soil'd;
Groves, of their leaf-wove mantles rudely stript,
Those pipes constring'd that once the moisture sipt;
Brooks, foully swoln with many a sordid rill,
The gross refuse of ev'ry slimy hill.
But lo! soon as the sun-beam from her eye,
Rapid as thought, is darted through the sky,
The mantling trees in foliage green are clad,
And fields with checker'd carpets overspread;
While, from the manger and the stall dismiss'd,
The herds domestic feed where-e'er they list.
From ev'ry trunk shoots forth an infant stem,
Each leaf bright-twinkling with a liquid gem.
In silken convolutions wrapt from cold,
Bud within bud, and fold inclosing fold,
The tender bloom acquires its various glow,
By sap nutritious suckled from below.
Gentle and limpid flows each murmuring rill,
And verdant rises every sloping hill.
O'er the fresh lawn the crouded villa's spread,
By business some, and some by pleasure led;

Each with glad heart the ardent look returns,
And each with social warmth of friendship burns;
The laugh, the cordial shake, and rustic jest,
With homely proof, their mutual joy attest,
Unmingled joy, peace, hope, content, and ease,
Each pleas'd alike, as each intent to please:
While not the titled grandee passing by,
With haughty air, attracts one envious eye.
Such feelings, Spring, thy magic smiles impart,
Such warm effusions of the grateful heart;
Such nameless raptures thy soft charms create,
Such gentle passions in thy train await!

Not so when tempests, big with rain and snow,
Discharg'd their fury on the world below;
When seldom, from the windows of the skies,
The cloudless sun look'd out with radiant eyes;
When frost in chains the stagnate rivers bound,
Naked the woods, and waste the barren ground;
Or down from rock-brow'd mountains, white before,
The torrent tumbled with impetuous roar;
When round the fire the shiv'ring ring conven'd,
Scarce social there from the dire season screen'd;
When gloom-wrapt silence, dreary and profound,
Thro' the mute groves hush'd each enliv'ning sound;

When trooping flocks to friendly shelters throng'd,
And night was to disgusting length prolong'd;
While dreams, where Fancy runs her wild career,
Gave superadded horrour to the year.

Now fleets, long by tempestuous months confin'd,
Expand their loosen'd canvas to the wind,
To circulate the special wealth, betimes,
Of inland kingdoms, or sea-border'd climes.
The silk-worm's gaudy labours (to deride
And swell the petulance of human pride)
Gums, spices, costly gems, furs, pearls, ore,
And all the treasures of vast India's shore,
Lie ready rang'd, the merchant's promis'd right,
To change their skies, when stars benign invite.
Yonder fair Commerce wakes her sun-burnt crew,
Gain's everlasting labour to renew.
Along the beach in ardent throngs they croud,
To stow the freight, or mend the broken shroud.
For one thing some, some for another call,
Ambition, duty, hope, inspirit all:
While gales propitious, courting them away,
Amongst the half-furl'd sheets and cordage play;
Ocean and sky, at unknown distance met,
Serene, seem to reproach their sails unset.

Now Navies, with selected warriours mann'd,
The boast and bulwark of some mighty land,
(Such as croud Albion's warlike ports, to awe
Contending states, and give Europa law),
To purchase new, or old possessions keep,
With shout tumult'ous launch into the deep;
Their sails distent to ev'ry breeze that blows,
And arm'd with Death's dread tubes, in brazen rows,
Where thunders slumber, soon to wake aloud,
Bursting explosive in a fiery cloud;
While Heav'n's vast concave, whelm'd in smoke, resounds,
And Ocean trembles through his watery bounds.

Now o'er the plough the sturdy peasant bends,
And whistles as the furrow he extends;
The rooks oft scaring, that in ceaseless change,
With wild kaw, o'er the glist'ning surface range;
Now drags the harrow, with unwearied toil,
Cross the rough ridges of the lumpy soil:
Another scatters, on the mould'ring land,
The oats or barley, with impartial hand;
Around him pigeons form'd in airy ring,
Shot the coy glance, or spread the frequent wing:
While gentle weather, and unclouded skies,
Make heart-felt pleasure sparkle in their eyes.

In yonder vineyard, to the south expos'd,
From blasting colds by lofty mounts inclos'd,
The patient hind takes his commodious stand,
To form and fashion all with curious hand;
Some vines to prop, and others to arrange,
As suns revolve, and months successive change:
And, though his task laborious seldom staid,
His cares he reckons amply overpaid,
When the rich grape, in purple clusters hung,
Swells to the eye, and sweetens to the tongue.

Where yonder bed transmitted heat receives,
And plants exotic spread their tender leaves,
From sickly damps secure, and drenching show'rs,
Another spends his task-allotted hours.
The warmest earth he brings, and richest soils,
Pregnant with salts and vegetable oils,
Lest, long accustom'd to a gentler sky,
Their famish'd roots should shrivel up and die.
Let Winter boast not his resistless cold,
Here Spring's eternal triumphs we behold.
Amid his icy blasts, and hills of snow,
When all's one undistinguish'd waste below;
Here Vegetation, as in Summer-skies,
Around her sees her infant offsprings rise.

With all his implements of craft supplied,
The peacock's honours, and the courser's pride,
With wheel apt-fix'd, and rod of pliant wood,
The Angler trips along in lightsome mood,
And to some river's wonted margin goes,
Where swells the pool, or stream o'er pebbles flows:
Scorning the life of Sloth's voluptuous sons,
Which idly in one languid tenour runs;
On which Hope seldom shines with cheerful light,
Dead to the brisker feelings of delight.

Bending, in graceful attitude he stands,
And all the glassy surface wide commands;
Amid lone Solitude's romantic haunts,
Where spreads the bramble, or the willow flaunts;
Silent and calm; save when a tuneful thrush
Salutes his pensive ear from hawthorn-bush.
With equal poise, and well-adapted hand,
He guides and vibrates his elastic wand;
With gentle shake, in plumage not its own,
(His basket careless o'er his shoulders thrown),
Dances his fly, disguis'd for sudden prey,
In all the frisks of apt-dissembled play:
Then to the brink, exulting, on his hook,
He drags the full-grown monarch of the brook;

Or lightly tosses, arching over head,
The smaller fry upon the sandy bed.

Delighted thus he spends the jocund hours,
When Morn, or Eve, distils the lucid show'rs;
Thus (courts less innocent repasts afford)
With unbought dainties loads his frugal board;
Tastes the bland sweets of bloom-imparting Health,
Often deny'd to Grandeur and to Wealth;
Feels at his gladden'd heart her vital heat,
And in each throbbing vein impulsive beat.

Yet, o'er the rushy tract, or champain bare,
The panting hounds pursue the timid hare;
Or from the thicket, or inclosure, start
The fox insidious, or swift-footed hart.
Soon as Aurora peeps o'er eastern hills,
His winding horn the early huntsman fills;
Strait, from their kennel, pour the fawning crew,
With ears deep hung to sweep the tainted dew;
In tuneful uproar round their master croud,
Aw'd by his stamp, as of his plaudit proud.
Yonder apart awaits the neighing steed,
With nostrils wide, and limbs well-turn'd for speed
Elate in sprightly youth he paws the ground,
And pricks his ears at each accustom'd sound.

On ev'ry side casts his effulgent eye,
As if his lord solicitous to spy.
His lord arrives; big with disdain he looks,
Curvets, and his arch'd neck in triumph crooks;
Eager to give his airy soul to flight,
Leap the fenc'd drain, or clear the quickset height.

Active, meantime, while silence reigns profound,
The beagles range athwart the covert ground;
The furrow, sunny glade, or level park,
Impatient for their master's well-known hark!
Anon, the leader of the stanch-nos'd train
Detects the vapour warm along the plain;
Then, with superiour voice by all confest,
Gives the expected signal to the rest.
Full on the scent convene the cautious hounds,
Forming a concert of melodious sounds;
Which, with the loud halloo, the sportsman's crack,
Oft-us'd incitements to the rival pack;
The frequent rush of feet, and horn blown shrill,
Mix, swell, and undulate from hill to hill:
While ardent crouds, from each contiguous cot,
Assembled on the first commanding spot,
With ravish'd ears, and anxious eyes, survey
The various fortune of the busy day.

Before, the game, by frantic fear impell'd,
Scours nimbly on, up the long rig beheld,
Each back-shrunk ear, to stimulate her pace,
Stunn'd with the noisy tumult of the chace.
Yet at safe distance she her flight maintains,
Preserves her vigour, though each nerve she strains;
Her half-sunk spirits seem elated hence,
And comfort lightly shoots across her sense.
Short respite; soon her strength exhausted flags,
Quick throbs her heart, and feebly move her legs.
Fierce at her heels approach the growling throng,
And smoking steeds in triumph stretch along.
Now all, expectant of her sudden fate,
Their speed and ardour by degrees abate.
Each claims a merit in the helpless prize,
Though early started, yet so late she dies.
Her gait unsteady, wildly-carried eye,
Turns oft repeated, and infantile cry,
Her frequent starts, and half-returning breath,
Presage her instant seizure, and her death.
But shall the soft-ey'd Muse of bloodshed sing?
Shall violence wound the chaste ear of Spring?

Ye noble swains, with youthful transports warm,
Whom rural scenes of recreation charm;

Forbear an exercise, that best agrees
With naked sences, and dismantled trees.
The farmer now his finish'd task beholds,
His hedges planted, and secur'd his folds;
The gen'rous seed, his future harvest, sown,
And round his parks defensive ditches thrown:
Guard then his property, his wealth you share,
Nor render useless all his prudent care.
From pain and death a short cessation give,
O let the guiltless hare and partridge live!
Lest, when the year completes her golden round,
No sports endear your stubble-tufted ground.
Rather, in some late flood-swoln current set
Your moss-fed bait, or spread your swelling net:
From his retreat the famish'd pike to lure,
Or in its wiles the speckled trout secure.
But, if you would affect a nobler prize,
Drag the huge salmon out, with blood-shot eyes;
Now to the river's upmost depths he strays,
While the broad curl his presence soon betrays.
Here all your fortune, all your judgment try,
Beneath the smiles of an indulgent sky;
Nor fancy things repugnant should assort,
But let each season have its proper sport.

The End of the First Book.

By Spring, in the following poem, the writer does not restrict himself to that precise period circumscribed by three months, the usual sense in which it is understood; but considers it in a more extensive light, as comprehending all that part of the agreeable Season in which vegetation is carried on.

The conservatory or greenhouse.