 | The British Months |  |
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JULY.
Origin of the name. Nearly equal division of the summer and year. Place of the setting sun. Feeling that attends the reflexion. Cause of such feeling. Past pleasure and future evil. Thankful enjoyment of present good
'Tis bright July. The fleeting year
Has half fulfill'd its just career.
And from the imperial Roman named,
Whose care from varying length reclaim'd
And caus'd the year its race to run
Commensurate with the ruling sun,
And gave each month, in course inroll'd,
The space, which now it holds, to hold:—
From Julius named, the bright July,
First of the second moiety,
To take his post assign'd prepares:
And at his start two equal shares
Well nigh the summer's glowing tide,
More near the annual round divide.
Has half fulfill'd its just career.
And from the imperial Roman named,
Whose care from varying length reclaim'd
And caus'd the year its race to run
Commensurate with the ruling sun,
And gave each month, in course inroll'd,
The space, which now it holds, to hold:—
From Julius named, the bright July,
First of the second moiety,
To take his post assign'd prepares:
And at his start two equal shares
Well nigh the summer's glowing tide,
More near the annual round divide.
'Tis bright July. The orb of light
Hath reach'd on yon north-western height,
Or ere he sets, the selfsame goal,
The selfsame station tow'rd the pole,
First won a few brief nights ago!
Why is it, though as rich a glow
Grace now, as then, that glorious sky;
Though deck'd with “all the quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance ,” that late
Attended on his regal state;
Seem we with less unmix'd delight
To ponder that illumin'd height?
Why seems a sort of shadowy veil
In the mind's eye to rise, and sail
Contiguous, and the scene imbue
With somewhat of a sombre hue?
Hath reach'd on yon north-western height,
Or ere he sets, the selfsame goal,
The selfsame station tow'rd the pole,
First won a few brief nights ago!
Why is it, though as rich a glow
Grace now, as then, that glorious sky;
Though deck'd with “all the quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance ,” that late
Attended on his regal state;
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To ponder that illumin'd height?
Why seems a sort of shadowy veil
In the mind's eye to rise, and sail
Contiguous, and the scene imbue
With somewhat of a sombre hue?
'Tis that the mind, from present good
Abstracted, in her fitful mood
Bethinks her, that meanwhile the sun
Has of his annual circles run
Most northward his celestial race:
And day by day, at first of space
So small that scarce the casual eye
Is prompt the difference to descry,
Contracts more near the east and west
His place of rising and of rest;
Sinking withal his noonday arch,
And hastening by his daily march
At later dawn, and speedier night,
To shorten his career of light:—
That he, who lately held his way
With pomp augmented day by day,
Now day by day forbears to urge
His wheels to so remote a verge,
Curtail'd of his solstitial strength,
And nightless splendour; till at length
By slow but sure degrees the day
Shall share with night but equal sway,
Then yield with vanquish'd beams the room
To dark midwinter's lengthen'd gloom.
Abstracted, in her fitful mood
Bethinks her, that meanwhile the sun
Has of his annual circles run
Most northward his celestial race:
And day by day, at first of space
So small that scarce the casual eye
Is prompt the difference to descry,
Contracts more near the east and west
His place of rising and of rest;
Sinking withal his noonday arch,
And hastening by his daily march
At later dawn, and speedier night,
To shorten his career of light:—
That he, who lately held his way
With pomp augmented day by day,
Now day by day forbears to urge
His wheels to so remote a verge,
Curtail'd of his solstitial strength,
And nightless splendour; till at length
By slow but sure degrees the day
Shall share with night but equal sway,
Then yield with vanquish'd beams the room
To dark midwinter's lengthen'd gloom.
It seems a feeling, to the mind
Congenial of our anxious kind,
On scenes of cherish'd pleasure past
A longing lingering look to cast
Regretful, and with fearful glance
Forestall the future scene's advance.
More wise are they, the blessings given
Who take with thanks to bounteous heaven,
Content with Providence's plan;
Nor while remoter scenes they scan
With forward or reverted eyes,
Perverse the present good despise!
More wise, who now the bright July
Enjoy with thankful hearts, nor sigh,
While back their thoughts recurring stray
To past delights of June or May;
Nor with presageful thought forestall
Distrest the equinoctial squall,
Which strews the autumnal leaves; or storm,
That shakes cold winter's naked form!
Congenial of our anxious kind,
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A longing lingering look to cast
Regretful, and with fearful glance
Forestall the future scene's advance.
More wise are they, the blessings given
Who take with thanks to bounteous heaven,
Content with Providence's plan;
Nor while remoter scenes they scan
With forward or reverted eyes,
Perverse the present good despise!
More wise, who now the bright July
Enjoy with thankful hearts, nor sigh,
While back their thoughts recurring stray
To past delights of June or May;
Nor with presageful thought forestall
Distrest the equinoctial squall,
Which strews the autumnal leaves; or storm,
That shakes cold winter's naked form!
Magnificence of the sky under various aspects: particularly in summer evenings. The little cloud foreboding a storm. Approach of the storm. Thunder Storm. Attendant feelings of awe and fear.
And when shall vision of delight
Greet, if not now, the raptur'd sight?
Whether the sun unclouded hide
His aspect in the glass-like tide,
While his rich beams their lustre throw
O'er skies above, and sea below,
And sea and sky together hold
United in one flood of gold:—
Whether, about his place of rest,
The clouds in thousand liveries drest
Their rainbow-painted colours blend;
Or in a fleecy pile ascend
Of Alp-like masses snowy white,
Edg'd with a fringe of golden light;
Or in broad fragments through the air
Slow floating, shapes romantick wear,
Picturing, by ever varying change,
Whate'er within her ample range
Creative nature's realm contains,
And fiction's plastick fancy feigns;
Or the bright flood of splendour break
With feathery fan, or tissued streak,
Or motley rows of fishlike scale;
Or upward soar with thinner veil
And thinner, till they melt from sight
Lost in blue air and liquid light:—
Scarce from her magazine of fair,
And grand, and wonderful, and rare,
Does nature's round a sight supply
More beauteous than the drapery,
Wherewith yon goodly cope is hung:
More beauteous never, than among
The evening gleams of summer skies,
When all the rich diversities
Of light, and shade, and iris hues,
And forms detach'd, combin'd, diffuse
O'er heav'n's serene and glowing face
A prodigality of grace.
Greet, if not now, the raptur'd sight?
Whether the sun unclouded hide
His aspect in the glass-like tide,
While his rich beams their lustre throw
O'er skies above, and sea below,
And sea and sky together hold
United in one flood of gold:—
Whether, about his place of rest,
The clouds in thousand liveries drest
Their rainbow-painted colours blend;
Or in a fleecy pile ascend
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Edg'd with a fringe of golden light;
Or in broad fragments through the air
Slow floating, shapes romantick wear,
Picturing, by ever varying change,
Whate'er within her ample range
Creative nature's realm contains,
And fiction's plastick fancy feigns;
Or the bright flood of splendour break
With feathery fan, or tissued streak,
Or motley rows of fishlike scale;
Or upward soar with thinner veil
And thinner, till they melt from sight
Lost in blue air and liquid light:—
Scarce from her magazine of fair,
And grand, and wonderful, and rare,
Does nature's round a sight supply
More beauteous than the drapery,
Wherewith yon goodly cope is hung:
More beauteous never, than among
The evening gleams of summer skies,
When all the rich diversities
Of light, and shade, and iris hues,
And forms detach'd, combin'd, diffuse
O'er heav'n's serene and glowing face
A prodigality of grace.
Then more majestically grand,
If seaward “like a human hand,”
Far in the horizontal skies
“A little cloud appear to rise,”
White as the virgin snow-wreath spread
Untouch'd on Alpine mountain's head:
Alone in that cerulean scene,
When not a breath the calm serene
Disturbs, nor spot nor speck beside
Defiles the azure concave wide.
If seaward “like a human hand,”
Far in the horizontal skies
“A little cloud appear to rise,”
White as the virgin snow-wreath spread
Untouch'd on Alpine mountain's head:
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When not a breath the calm serene
Disturbs, nor spot nor speck beside
Defiles the azure concave wide.
Such cloud from Carmel's height of old
From the Great Sea was seen unfold,
When drought o'er broad Esdrela's plain
Held the parch'd brooks, its blackening train,
Indicative to Israel's seer
Of storm and rain approaching near .
Such cloud beneath our western skies,
To the skill'd sailor's wary eyes,
As from the sea it peers, though fair
The day, and pure and bright the air,
Portends beneath the illusive form
The gathering of the summer storm.
From the Great Sea was seen unfold,
When drought o'er broad Esdrela's plain
Held the parch'd brooks, its blackening train,
Indicative to Israel's seer
Of storm and rain approaching near .
Such cloud beneath our western skies,
To the skill'd sailor's wary eyes,
As from the sea it peers, though fair
The day, and pure and bright the air,
Portends beneath the illusive form
The gathering of the summer storm.
Now upward, onward, through heaven's arch
That “little cloud” its gradual marcii
Holds statefully; and, as it goes,
Large, and more large, and larger grows,
Still steering windward, and the glance
Reflecting on its slow advance
Of the bright sun-beams: till the “hand,”
In size so seem'd it, wide expand
A curtain o'er the waning sky:
And in its course the sun more nigh,
Here dark with inky blackness; there
Like furnace-smoke of murky glare;
Tipt with his light, its wave-like cove
There curling forward from above;
At length ingulph'd the orb of light
It swallows in meridian night.
That “little cloud” its gradual marcii
Holds statefully; and, as it goes,
Large, and more large, and larger grows,
Still steering windward, and the glance
Reflecting on its slow advance
Of the bright sun-beams: till the “hand,”
In size so seem'd it, wide expand
A curtain o'er the waning sky:
And in its course the sun more nigh,
Here dark with inky blackness; there
Like furnace-smoke of murky glare;
Tipt with his light, its wave-like cove
There curling forward from above;
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It swallows in meridian night.
Then comes the aerial warfare! Keen
And bright, the rifted clouds between,
As if the welkin were on fire,
With sheeted blaze, or forked spire
Acute, the lightning's vollied flash:—
The mutter'd growl, the roar, the crash,
Like some high beetling fort o'erthrown
And toppled headlong, stone on stone,
Peal after peal, from the echoing sky
Discharg'd, of heaven's artillery,
And roll succeeding roll: with crush
Etherial and the downward rush
Of torrent rain, as if were riven
Anew the floodgates of high heaven.
And bright, the rifted clouds between,
As if the welkin were on fire,
With sheeted blaze, or forked spire
Acute, the lightning's vollied flash:—
The mutter'd growl, the roar, the crash,
Like some high beetling fort o'erthrown
And toppled headlong, stone on stone,
Peal after peal, from the echoing sky
Discharg'd, of heaven's artillery,
And roll succeeding roll: with crush
Etherial and the downward rush
Of torrent rain, as if were riven
Anew the floodgates of high heaven.
'Tis not without a thrilling sense,
At nature's dread magnificence,
Of solemn awe, akin to fear,
Of fear perhaps itself, we hear
And see the tempest's startling sound!
Signs of such mighty power astound
And cause the staggering mind to reel,
Smit by the unnerving shock, and feel
Its own small strength appearing less,
By contrast with that mightiness:
Mix'd with alarm, lest what it knows
By sad experiment to those,
Who haply meet its sweepy sway,
So free from all escape or stay,
So full of peril and affright,
Should on its own frail dwelling light!
At nature's dread magnificence,
Of solemn awe, akin to fear,
Of fear perhaps itself, we hear
And see the tempest's startling sound!
Signs of such mighty power astound
And cause the staggering mind to reel,
Smit by the unnerving shock, and feel
Its own small strength appearing less,
By contrast with that mightiness:
Mix'd with alarm, lest what it knows
By sad experiment to those,
Who haply meet its sweepy sway,
So free from all escape or stay,
So full of peril and affright,
Should on its own frail dwelling light!
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Disastrous effects. A storm at Malvern in 1826. A young party of friends overtaken by it. Its effects. The Knell
Ah, hapless they, expos'd to bide,
On the lone heath, or forest-side,
Or mountain shelterless and drear,
The pelting of such storm severe!
More hapless, if unwise they seek
A shelter insecure and weak,
To the frail cot or leafy wood
By that relentless storm pursued!
On the lone heath, or forest-side,
Or mountain shelterless and drear,
The pelting of such storm severe!
More hapless, if unwise they seek
A shelter insecure and weak,
To the frail cot or leafy wood
By that relentless storm pursued!
Such haples lot 'twas theirs to prove,
A friendly band, in league of love
United, by the halcyon day
Allur'd in joyousness to stray,
Where Malvern's beacon-crested crown
Here looks on ridgy woodlands down,
Orchards with blushing fruitage stor'd,
And mountain zone of Hereford;
There on fair Worcester's pastur'd leas,
And, bosom'd in the tufted trees,
Of antique grace the village fane,
The lordly abbot's whilome reign.
Pure was the air, the day was bright,
As form'd for joyance and delight:
In joyance and delight they climb,
In health's fresh bloom and youthful prime,
The zigzag path's slow mountain way,
And o'er the grassy greensward stray.
Sudden, black clouds involve the sky:
The storm's at hand: alarm'd they fly
To yon lone hut, their sole defence,
The gift of kind beneficence
To those who on the mountain's crest
Might seek the wearied limb to rest,
Or with rich view of hill and mead
Below the wandering eyesight feed.
A friendly band, in league of love
United, by the halcyon day
Allur'd in joyousness to stray,
Where Malvern's beacon-crested crown
Here looks on ridgy woodlands down,
Orchards with blushing fruitage stor'd,
And mountain zone of Hereford;
There on fair Worcester's pastur'd leas,
And, bosom'd in the tufted trees,
Of antique grace the village fane,
The lordly abbot's whilome reign.
Pure was the air, the day was bright,
As form'd for joyance and delight:
In joyance and delight they climb,
In health's fresh bloom and youthful prime,
The zigzag path's slow mountain way,
And o'er the grassy greensward stray.
Sudden, black clouds involve the sky:
The storm's at hand: alarm'd they fly
To yon lone hut, their sole defence,
The gift of kind beneficence
To those who on the mountain's crest
Might seek the wearied limb to rest,
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Below the wandering eyesight feed.
O'erjoy'd they hail the welcome seat:
They sit: they hear the tempest beat,
As fiercer and more fierce it grows.
Exulting in their safe repose,
They hear the thunder's rattling sound;
Far off along the flaming ground
They see the fire careering run:—
But whither?—Ask no more: 'tis done,—
What heart can hear, nor hearing bleed?—
The piteous, strange, distressful deed!
They sit: they hear the tempest beat,
As fiercer and more fierce it grows.
Exulting in their safe repose,
They hear the thunder's rattling sound;
Far off along the flaming ground
They see the fire careering run:—
But whither?—Ask no more: 'tis done,—
What heart can hear, nor hearing bleed?—
The piteous, strange, distressful deed!
Four youthful forms the tempest caught:
Four youthful forms the refuge sought
Safe reckon'd of that mountain seat:
Forth issuing from their joint retreat,
Two, only two, appear to tell
The story; and to-morrow's knell
Their partners to their kindred earth,
Late full of love, and youth, and mirth,
Ah, lovely now no more! shall trust,
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!”
Four youthful forms the refuge sought
Safe reckon'd of that mountain seat:
Forth issuing from their joint retreat,
Two, only two, appear to tell
The story; and to-morrow's knell
Their partners to their kindred earth,
Late full of love, and youth, and mirth,
Ah, lovely now no more! shall trust,
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!”
Toll for the Young! through whom hath past
With subtle touch the electrick blast!
The spirits to their God are fled:
Their bodies prostrate lie and dead;
But scarce a spot is there to show
The passage of the fatal blow!
With subtle touch the electrick blast!
The spirits to their God are fled:
Their bodies prostrate lie and dead;
But scarce a spot is there to show
The passage of the fatal blow!
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Toll for the Young! They little knew,
When their lov'd home they bade adieu,
That brief adieu would be the last!—
They little knew, the day, that cast
About their path so clear a light,
Would whelm them in impervious night!
When their lov'd home they bade adieu,
That brief adieu would be the last!—
They little knew, the day, that cast
About their path so clear a light,
Would whelm them in impervious night!
Toll for the Young! Their kindred kind,
Hopes, joys, affections left behind!
Yet was the pang of parting light,
A moment wing'd the spirit's flight;
And scarce, as past the fleeting breath,
They felt “the bitterness of death!”
Hopes, joys, affections left behind!
Yet was the pang of parting light,
A moment wing'd the spirit's flight;
And scarce, as past the fleeting breath,
They felt “the bitterness of death!”
Then rather be the death bell toll'd
For the lost comfort of the old!
For them, whose hearts expecting yearn
To see the chariot wheels return,
Which bore their children on their way,
All youthful, healthful, joyous, gay!
For the lost comfort of the old!
For them, whose hearts expecting yearn
To see the chariot wheels return,
Which bore their children on their way,
All youthful, healthful, joyous, gay!
Alas! along the darken'd road,
Charg'd with its melancholy load,
Soon shall in solemn pomp appear
The plumed hearse, the pall-clad bier.
Toll for the Old! They ne'er shall strain
Their children to their breast again!
Charg'd with its melancholy load,
Soon shall in solemn pomp appear
The plumed hearse, the pall-clad bier.
Toll for the Old! They ne'er shall strain
Their children to their breast again!
God's ways mysterious. His providence certain. How to be acknowledged
Mysterious are the ways of God!
Of them, whose careless footsteps trod
That morning Malvern's beacon'd height,
Why did the visitation light
On that selected party? Why
On these, and pass their fellows by,
Untouch'd, uninjur'd? He, who here
Surveys in memory's mirrour clear
The features of that fatal scene,
The hill, the hut, tbe grassy green,
Traced by his feet the day before,
Again the morrow's eve; the roar
Who heard of that dread thunder's sound,
Who saw the flash that smote the ground,
Safe in yon abbey's shade beneath;
Why did he 'scape the stroke of death?
The fate, which that sad pair befell,
Why does he still survive to tell;
And hang a melancholy verse
In memory on their early herse?
Of them, whose careless footsteps trod
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Why did the visitation light
On that selected party? Why
On these, and pass their fellows by,
Untouch'd, uninjur'd? He, who here
Surveys in memory's mirrour clear
The features of that fatal scene,
The hill, the hut, tbe grassy green,
Traced by his feet the day before,
Again the morrow's eve; the roar
Who heard of that dread thunder's sound,
Who saw the flash that smote the ground,
Safe in yon abbey's shade beneath;
Why did he 'scape the stroke of death?
The fate, which that sad pair befell,
Why does he still survive to tell;
And hang a melancholy verse
In memory on their early herse?
Such mystery 'tis not ours to solve,
Nor pierce the clouds, which oft involve
God's doings! But 'tis ours to own,
Howe'er “his footsteps be not known,
His march amid the sea he keeps,
His pathway 'mid the mighty deeps .”
'Tis ours before his throne to bow;
And own, who made, has knowledge how
To rule his creatures; and to trust
In Him, the good, the wise, the just.
But chief 'tis ours, when death's pale horse,
Wing'd with the vollied lightning's force,
Goes forth, and scatters from his crest
The noontide storm, the midnight pest,
And thousands fall around, beside;
To think on Him, whose feathers hide
Our dwelling from the deadly blast;
To count each menac'd danger past,
Each moment's yet prolong'd delay,
Our day of grace, salvation's day;
On Him in times of need recline,
And still, the more his mercies shine,
The more his bounteous name adore,
And better serve, and love Him more!
Nor pierce the clouds, which oft involve
God's doings! But 'tis ours to own,
Howe'er “his footsteps be not known,
His march amid the sea he keeps,
His pathway 'mid the mighty deeps .”
'Tis ours before his throne to bow;
And own, who made, has knowledge how
To rule his creatures; and to trust
In Him, the good, the wise, the just.
But chief 'tis ours, when death's pale horse,
Wing'd with the vollied lightning's force,
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The noontide storm, the midnight pest,
And thousands fall around, beside;
To think on Him, whose feathers hide
Our dwelling from the deadly blast;
To count each menac'd danger past,
Each moment's yet prolong'd delay,
Our day of grace, salvation's day;
On Him in times of need recline,
And still, the more his mercies shine,
The more his bounteous name adore,
And better serve, and love Him more!
Augmented heat of the sun. Fine July weather. Legend of St. Swithun. Lamentable effect of spiritual ignorance and tyranny
As yet the year is in its pride:
And if the sun at morning tide
His orient face less promptly show,
And o'er his setting radiance throw
At day's decline an earlier shade;
If more and more the twilight fade;
And that white lucid circle fail
To skirt the horizon, and with veil
Of thicker shade and more profound
Dark midnight spread her mantle round:
Yet nought from his meridian tower
Of keen and penetrating power,
Though less and less his orb exalt
Its noonstead in the azure vault,
Does the bright sun as yet resign,
Or with less fervid radiance shine.
But rather, as the summer days
Then beam most hotly, when his rays
Declining through the etherial space,
Erewhile inflam'd, on earth's warm face
With force accumulated beat:
So with access of annual heat
Receding from his loftiest post
His beams their strongest fervour boast,
And past the glow of earlier June
Is bright July's maturer noon.
And if the sun at morning tide
His orient face less promptly show,
And o'er his setting radiance throw
At day's decline an earlier shade;
If more and more the twilight fade;
And that white lucid circle fail
To skirt the horizon, and with veil
Of thicker shade and more profound
Dark midnight spread her mantle round:
Yet nought from his meridian tower
Of keen and penetrating power,
Though less and less his orb exalt
Its noonstead in the azure vault,
Does the bright sun as yet resign,
Or with less fervid radiance shine.
But rather, as the summer days
Then beam most hotly, when his rays
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Erewhile inflam'd, on earth's warm face
With force accumulated beat:
So with access of annual heat
Receding from his loftiest post
His beams their strongest fervour boast,
And past the glow of earlier June
Is bright July's maturer noon.
What month asserts a warmer sky,
More clear, more bright, than bright July;
When the blue heav'n, which wont to lower
With many a dense, solstitial shower,
Has chas'd the curtain'd clouds away,
And summer suns resume their sway?
Unless perhaps the man of God,
Who deem'd the church than churchyard sod
To hold his lifeless frame less meet;
And, when to that forbidden seat
His flock with over-zealous love
Essay'd the buried corpse to move,
With six long weeks of torrent rain
Proclaim'd the rash endeavour vain,
And graced his tomb with many a sign
Miraculous of pow'r divine:—
Unless Saint Swithun interfere;
And, when the month in due career
Has all but reach'd the midmost day,
Tenacious of transmissive sway,
For full twice twenty days and more
Discharge the clouds' collected store!
More clear, more bright, than bright July;
When the blue heav'n, which wont to lower
With many a dense, solstitial shower,
Has chas'd the curtain'd clouds away,
And summer suns resume their sway?
Unless perhaps the man of God,
Who deem'd the church than churchyard sod
To hold his lifeless frame less meet;
And, when to that forbidden seat
His flock with over-zealous love
Essay'd the buried corpse to move,
With six long weeks of torrent rain
Proclaim'd the rash endeavour vain,
And graced his tomb with many a sign
Miraculous of pow'r divine:—
Unless Saint Swithun interfere;
And, when the month in due career
Has all but reach'd the midmost day,
Tenacious of transmissive sway,
For full twice twenty days and more
Discharge the clouds' collected store!
Such tales our darkling fathers knew
In error's days, and held them true!
Such tales, the dregs of error old,
There are who now in credence hold;
Such tales and worse: of selfish wile
Begot on ignorance, to beguile
Man's reason, and divert the scope
Of holy faith and ardent hope!
Alas for them, to whom is given
Eyesight and light by gracious heaven;
Forbid meanwhile by men aright
To use their eyesight or their light!
Alas for them still more, who bind,
What God would loose, the human mind;
Who nor themselves nor others free
From bonds, though charged with freedom's key;
And, heedless of His will, retain
The Christian in a heathen chain!
In error's days, and held them true!
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There are who now in credence hold;
Such tales and worse: of selfish wile
Begot on ignorance, to beguile
Man's reason, and divert the scope
Of holy faith and ardent hope!
Alas for them, to whom is given
Eyesight and light by gracious heaven;
Forbid meanwhile by men aright
To use their eyesight or their light!
Alas for them still more, who bind,
What God would loose, the human mind;
Who nor themselves nor others free
From bonds, though charged with freedom's key;
And, heedless of His will, retain
The Christian in a heathen chain!
The Barometer. Rules for observing it. Outward signs of the weather. Virgil's Georgicks
But let Saint Swithun's legend pass!
More truly will the tube of glass,
With pure mercurial column fill'd,
Signs of the approaching weather yield.
If the rais'd fluid downward tend
Day after day, and still descend,
Mark'd by the graduated scale;
Believe the sign, that soon will fail,
Though fair and flattering to the eye,
The splendour of the cloudless sky.
Or if, by long and hasty strides,
Now up, now down, the silver glides,
Be cautious! Such brisk movements tell
Of days unfix'd and changeable,
Not by the actual height alone,
But by well-mark'd relation shown.
But if the silver upward rise,
Though dense the rain and dark the skies,
And still in one direction move,
Ascending; and disclose above
The steady column's rounded top,
Aspiring like a convex drop:
Then know, howe'er involved in gloom,
Soon will the conquering sun resume
The imperial rod, and day by day
Serene the aërial empire sway.
More truly will the tube of glass,
With pure mercurial column fill'd,
Signs of the approaching weather yield.
If the rais'd fluid downward tend
Day after day, and still descend,
Mark'd by the graduated scale;
Believe the sign, that soon will fail,
Though fair and flattering to the eye,
The splendour of the cloudless sky.
Or if, by long and hasty strides,
Now up, now down, the silver glides,
Be cautious! Such brisk movements tell
Of days unfix'd and changeable,
262
But by well-mark'd relation shown.
But if the silver upward rise,
Though dense the rain and dark the skies,
And still in one direction move,
Ascending; and disclose above
The steady column's rounded top,
Aspiring like a convex drop:
Then know, howe'er involved in gloom,
Soon will the conquering sun resume
The imperial rod, and day by day
Serene the aërial empire sway.
Nor wants there many an outward sign,
Whence old experience may divine
The future drought, the approaching storm:
From vapoury clouds' still varying form;
From winds, in changeful currents borne;
From dewy eve, or misty morn;
From hills, which far remov'd or near,
The same the space between, appear;
Or high or low the swallow's flight;
From clamorous rook, or soaring kite;
From antick gestures of the swine;
From houshold birds, or pastur'd kine;
From the swift sea-fowl's dripping wings;
From slimy frogs, and creeping things,
And watchful insect tribes; from none
More certain than the rapid sun,
The stars' pure lustre, and more bright
Or dim the silver orb of night.
“For ever to the wary eye
Sure signs the approaching times supply:
And still the symptoms of to-day
Tomorrow's character betray:”
So sang the Mantuan bard of yore,
And to the signs, from Grecian lore
Deriv'd, his Roman prudence join'd:
And they, who note the signs, will find
The truth by juster rules they tell,
Than fam'd Saint Swithun's oracle.
Whence old experience may divine
The future drought, the approaching storm:
From vapoury clouds' still varying form;
From winds, in changeful currents borne;
From dewy eve, or misty morn;
From hills, which far remov'd or near,
The same the space between, appear;
Or high or low the swallow's flight;
From clamorous rook, or soaring kite;
From antick gestures of the swine;
From houshold birds, or pastur'd kine;
From the swift sea-fowl's dripping wings;
From slimy frogs, and creeping things,
And watchful insect tribes; from none
More certain than the rapid sun,
The stars' pure lustre, and more bright
Or dim the silver orb of night.
“For ever to the wary eye
Sure signs the approaching times supply:
263
Tomorrow's character betray:”
So sang the Mantuan bard of yore,
And to the signs, from Grecian lore
Deriv'd, his Roman prudence join'd:
And they, who note the signs, will find
The truth by juster rules they tell,
Than fam'd Saint Swithun's oracle.
The Garden Bower. Its constituents. Traveller's joy. Why so called. Gerard's Herbal. Character of the work and its author. True use of knowledge
Confirm'd the summer sunbeams beat
On the dry earth, nor breezes chill
Come loaded with rheumatick ill;
In lonely thought, or converse bland,
Or with amusive book in hand,
'Tis sweet in yon o'erarching bower
To pass retir'd the sultry hour.
There with the tea-tree's purple bloom,
And fragrant stars that waft perfume
From white and yellow Jessamine,
Plants of more homely growth intwine,
Indigenous: the Woodbine wreath,
And Eglantine with dulcet breath;
And golden Hop, that still his course
Guides by the fostering sun, nor force
Will that his natural bent destroy;
And with green bloom the Traveller's joy,
Most beauteous when its flow'rs assume
Their autumn form of feathery plume.
The Traveller's joy! name well bestow'd
On that wild plant, which, by the road
264
Fails not the hedge of prickly thorn,
Or wilding rose-bush, apt to creep
O'er the dry limestone's craggy steep.
There still a gay companion near
To the way-faring “traveller”
Its lithe and straggling wreaths proclaim:
Thence honour'd with its gladsome name
By him, the plants' Historian old
In good Eliza's days, who told
In tale exact, with figures true,
And gave to all their honours due,
Each plant that merry England held,
In garden trim, or open field,
Native, or by his fostering care
Induced to breathe our foreign air,
Well-natur'd Gerard! And in days,
To more of scientifick praise
Aspiring, and with more command
Of graver's style, and painter's hand,
Be still his peerless worth confest,
Our England's early Herbarist!
Who 'mid his joy and great delight,
To see before his raptur'd sight
“The earth with herbs and flow'rs bespread,
As with a robe apparelled
Of broider's work, and garnish'd fair
With pearls and jewels rich and rare;”
With more delight his mental eye
Uprais'd the Maker to descry;
Saw in his works “his wisdom shine,
And pow'r, and workmanship divine;
265
The praise of God invisible ”
True use of knowledge, when it draws
The mind to ponder nature's Cause;
And makes man's intellectual wealth
Subservient to his spirit's health!
Water Excursions. The Isis and Cherwell. Oxford. The Wye. The Monnow. Monmouthshire. Raglan. The Marquis of Worcester. The British Nobleman.
And now's the season, when the bright
Calm days with fearlessness invite,
To float on some smooth river's tide,
Whose waters through fair landscapes glide,
Through rural scenes, and woodland bowers,
Rocks, and romantick cliffs, and towers,
Which lift their crests aloft, and throw
Rich umbrage on the flood below.
Calm days with fearlessness invite,
To float on some smooth river's tide,
Whose waters through fair landscapes glide,
Through rural scenes, and woodland bowers,
Rocks, and romantick cliffs, and towers,
Which lift their crests aloft, and throw
Rich umbrage on the flood below.
O who will bear me to the meads,
Where Isis, classick river, leads
Her silver current, broad and fleet:
And Cherwell glides hard by, to meet
Her course with narrow stream and slow?
There the bright water-lilies blow,
Their stems with gorgeous blossoms crown'd,
'Mid shield-like leaves that float around.
There many an oar, with feathery play
Quick-glancing, on the dripping spray
Reflects the sunbeams: many a sail
Shines white before the bellying gale:
And mellow o'er the water swells
The musick of thy pealing bells,
O Wykeham, name rever'd! and nigh,
His, who with graceful symmetry
Rais'd the fair tow'r of Magdalene,
In the clear crystal twofold seen,
Rich pinnacle, with vane and fret;
Window, and pannel'd parapet:
And near, but with a graver air,
Like mother by her daughter fair,
Low Merton, 'mid her tufted grove;
And Christchurch' Norman pile above
The long line of her elm-trees tall,
Her gatehouse tow'r, and window'd hall;
And Attic Radcliffe's vaulted dome;
And rising o'er my whilome home,
My own lov'd Oriel,—(though of grace
But small to see to, yet in place
Not mean 'mong Oxford's sons, nor slight
Her honour;)—there of structure light
Emerging from its cluster rich
Of crocket, canopy, and niche,
Corbel and statue, leaf and flower,
That crown its decorated tower,
With sculpture's elfin broidery graced,
Itself with simple beauty chaste
Ascends o'er buttress, nave, and choir,
Saint Mary's tall and taper spire.
Where Isis, classick river, leads
Her silver current, broad and fleet:
And Cherwell glides hard by, to meet
Her course with narrow stream and slow?
There the bright water-lilies blow,
Their stems with gorgeous blossoms crown'd,
'Mid shield-like leaves that float around.
There many an oar, with feathery play
Quick-glancing, on the dripping spray
Reflects the sunbeams: many a sail
Shines white before the bellying gale:
And mellow o'er the water swells
The musick of thy pealing bells,
266
His, who with graceful symmetry
Rais'd the fair tow'r of Magdalene,
In the clear crystal twofold seen,
Rich pinnacle, with vane and fret;
Window, and pannel'd parapet:
And near, but with a graver air,
Like mother by her daughter fair,
Low Merton, 'mid her tufted grove;
And Christchurch' Norman pile above
The long line of her elm-trees tall,
Her gatehouse tow'r, and window'd hall;
And Attic Radcliffe's vaulted dome;
And rising o'er my whilome home,
My own lov'd Oriel,—(though of grace
But small to see to, yet in place
Not mean 'mong Oxford's sons, nor slight
Her honour;)—there of structure light
Emerging from its cluster rich
Of crocket, canopy, and niche,
Corbel and statue, leaf and flower,
That crown its decorated tower,
With sculpture's elfin broidery graced,
Itself with simple beauty chaste
Ascends o'er buttress, nave, and choir,
Saint Mary's tall and taper spire.
Or who will bear me, where the Wye
Deep 'mid her woodland scenery,
And doubling like the volum'd snake,
Winds onward her romantick track:
By Goodrich' hold, and Kymin's hill,
Augmented thence by that slow rill,
Which gives yon ancient town its name,
Proud of its old historian's fame,
Proud of its monarch's, from the fort
Surnam'd and field of Agincourt;
To Tintern's lofty-window'd fane
Stript of each gorgeous storied pane,
Her roofless, arch'd, and pillar'd nave;
And Piersfield's rocks, and woods that wave
Impervious o'er the strait abyss,
Sheer from the embattled precipice;
And Chepstow proudly looking down,
Where tow'rds his old romantick town
Wye glides beneath his towered steep,
Long terras'd wall, and tottering keep!
Deep 'mid her woodland scenery,
And doubling like the volum'd snake,
Winds onward her romantick track:
By Goodrich' hold, and Kymin's hill,
Augmented thence by that slow rill,
267
Proud of its old historian's fame,
Proud of its monarch's, from the fort
Surnam'd and field of Agincourt;
To Tintern's lofty-window'd fane
Stript of each gorgeous storied pane,
Her roofless, arch'd, and pillar'd nave;
And Piersfield's rocks, and woods that wave
Impervious o'er the strait abyss,
Sheer from the embattled precipice;
And Chepstow proudly looking down,
Where tow'rds his old romantick town
Wye glides beneath his towered steep,
Long terras'd wall, and tottering keep!
To please the mind with visions fair,
To blunt the bitter sting of care,
Such scenes possess a magick power;
And once and more, for many an hour
Of bliss, such bliss as here we know,
To thee a debt of thanks I owe,
O Monmouth, and thy wandering Wye!
With much besides, that memory's eye
Still holds in wakeful trance; the scene,
Where Blorenge soars with lofty mien
Abrupt from sweet Gavenny's vale;
And close Lantony's abbey'd dale;
And that star-pointing heath-clad cone,
'Mid the broad plain in grandeur lone;
And Skyrrid's cloven pyramid;
And by the creeping ivy hid,
Baronial Raglan's portal'd wall,
Her spacious courts, and stately hall,
Imperial Charles's lov'd resort,
Tow'rs, bastions, moat, and massive fort.
Raglan, whom storying scrolls record
In concert with her loyal Lord,
Worcester's good earl, who nobly dar'd,
When England like a caitiff far'd
Crush'd by rebellion's iron wing,
To love his Church and serve his King!
And sure in history's living page,
The records of a by-gone age,
It glads the very heart to see
Fast faith, and generous loyalty,
Still unseduc'd, unterrified;
And careless of all thought beside,
Save to maintain the plighted vow,
And bear untarnish'd on the brow,
Howe'er by evil days beset,
The British noble's coronet!
To blunt the bitter sting of care,
Such scenes possess a magick power;
And once and more, for many an hour
Of bliss, such bliss as here we know,
To thee a debt of thanks I owe,
O Monmouth, and thy wandering Wye!
With much besides, that memory's eye
Still holds in wakeful trance; the scene,
Where Blorenge soars with lofty mien
Abrupt from sweet Gavenny's vale;
And close Lantony's abbey'd dale;
And that star-pointing heath-clad cone,
'Mid the broad plain in grandeur lone;
And Skyrrid's cloven pyramid;
And by the creeping ivy hid,
Baronial Raglan's portal'd wall,
Her spacious courts, and stately hall,
268
Tow'rs, bastions, moat, and massive fort.
Raglan, whom storying scrolls record
In concert with her loyal Lord,
Worcester's good earl, who nobly dar'd,
When England like a caitiff far'd
Crush'd by rebellion's iron wing,
To love his Church and serve his King!
And sure in history's living page,
The records of a by-gone age,
It glads the very heart to see
Fast faith, and generous loyalty,
Still unseduc'd, unterrified;
And careless of all thought beside,
Save to maintain the plighted vow,
And bear untarnish'd on the brow,
Howe'er by evil days beset,
The British noble's coronet!
Monmouthshire a field for the Botanist. July Specimens of Flowers. Evening Primrose. Field or Spreading Bell-flower. Giant Throatwort. Thorn Apple, &c. Mints, &c. Purple or Lobel's Catchfly. Shepherd's Rod. Wild Teasel. Broom-rape. The portraying of flowers, a pleasing and useful art
Nor are those scenes without their share
Of worth to such, as fain would bear
From every pleasant spot a prize
To swell their treasur'd herbaries.
Bear witness thou, beloved child!
For whom each simple flowret wild,
Ere yet thou knew'st to name its name
With half-form'd speech, had pow'r to claim
Thy love, surpassing vulgar toys;
And still among thy youthful joys,
Train'd by parental care, thy taste,
By joint parental care, embraced
Each novel bloom, in season due,
Which from her lap free nature threw:
Nor now, when calls maternal, join'd
With calls connubial, on thy mind
The tasks of life mature impose,
Fails't thou, if chance a stranger grows
Thy path beside, soon strange no more
To range it with thy floral store:—
Bear witness thou, that not in vain
We travers'd Monmouth's blooming reign,
When bright July his radiance shed;
And many a flow'r, from nature's bed
Cropt by thy hand, was taught to wear
On thy portraying page the air,
And form, and tints, which first it knew,
When on its native spot it blew.
Of worth to such, as fain would bear
From every pleasant spot a prize
To swell their treasur'd herbaries.
Bear witness thou, beloved child!
For whom each simple flowret wild,
Ere yet thou knew'st to name its name
With half-form'd speech, had pow'r to claim
Thy love, surpassing vulgar toys;
And still among thy youthful joys,
Train'd by parental care, thy taste,
By joint parental care, embraced
269
Which from her lap free nature threw:
Nor now, when calls maternal, join'd
With calls connubial, on thy mind
The tasks of life mature impose,
Fails't thou, if chance a stranger grows
Thy path beside, soon strange no more
To range it with thy floral store:—
Bear witness thou, that not in vain
We travers'd Monmouth's blooming reign,
When bright July his radiance shed;
And many a flow'r, from nature's bed
Cropt by thy hand, was taught to wear
On thy portraying page the air,
And form, and tints, which first it knew,
When on its native spot it blew.
There still through winter's gloom I trace
The form of many a summer grace:
There the tall plant, whose yellow bloom
Pale gold, and delicate perfume,
Scenting the evening breezes, claim
The honour of the Primrose' name,
From gentle Monnow's rushy bank:
But whether Monnow's rushes dank,
Or rapid Wye, or Britain's coast
Can dare the Evening Primrose boast
Indigenous, their native pride,
Is doubt; nor dares the Muse decide.
There the blue Bell-flow'r open spread,
Most rare; and rare with double head
The Giant Throatwort's bells of blue:
The Meadow Cranesbill's purpler hue:
Soapwort, with blush of roseate tinge:
The tube-like cup of green, and fringe
Of blossom plaited manifold,
The thorny Apple's milk-white hold;
White, but with purple tinge, as milk,
Soft to the touch as orient silk:
Of sorts, which ev'n botanick eye,
Vers'd in its lov'd pursuit, may try
In vain to mark, the scented Mint,
Of many a varied form and tint:
And Calamint, of kindred power:
White Catmint's crimson-spotted flower;
Dwarf mallow; purple Betony;
With velvet leaf the Mallow-tree;
Red Burnet; Cudweed's cottony down;
The prickly Carline's golden crown;
Of form minute, complete in shape,
The least Snapdragon's yellow gape:—
Where Kymin from his rocky brow
Marks town, and mead, and stream below,
And tempts the sauntring step to rove
Through the rich glades of Beaulieu's grove,
But if the hill a plant so rare
Have bred, or only nourish'd there,
I know not, girt with viscid rim,
The purple Catchfly's jointed stem:—
The Shepherd's bristling staff erect:
With purple blooms the Teasel deckt
Concenter'd in an oval crown;
But not like him of more renown,
Arm'd with the bended awns, that pull
Through the close web the knotted wool,
Raise the soft downy nap, and smooth
The texture with tenacious tooth;
Nor skilful art a tool has plann'd
To match that gift of nature's hand:—
And Broomrape's scaly spikes, around
With tiers of helmed blossoms bound,
Who plants his parasitick shoot
Intrusive on a stranger root,
And, fresh with life, presents to view
The sapless oak leaf's dingy hue.
The form of many a summer grace:
There the tall plant, whose yellow bloom
Pale gold, and delicate perfume,
Scenting the evening breezes, claim
The honour of the Primrose' name,
From gentle Monnow's rushy bank:
But whether Monnow's rushes dank,
Or rapid Wye, or Britain's coast
Can dare the Evening Primrose boast
Indigenous, their native pride,
Is doubt; nor dares the Muse decide.
There the blue Bell-flow'r open spread,
Most rare; and rare with double head
The Giant Throatwort's bells of blue:
The Meadow Cranesbill's purpler hue:
270
The tube-like cup of green, and fringe
Of blossom plaited manifold,
The thorny Apple's milk-white hold;
White, but with purple tinge, as milk,
Soft to the touch as orient silk:
Of sorts, which ev'n botanick eye,
Vers'd in its lov'd pursuit, may try
In vain to mark, the scented Mint,
Of many a varied form and tint:
And Calamint, of kindred power:
White Catmint's crimson-spotted flower;
Dwarf mallow; purple Betony;
With velvet leaf the Mallow-tree;
Red Burnet; Cudweed's cottony down;
The prickly Carline's golden crown;
Of form minute, complete in shape,
The least Snapdragon's yellow gape:—
Where Kymin from his rocky brow
Marks town, and mead, and stream below,
And tempts the sauntring step to rove
Through the rich glades of Beaulieu's grove,
But if the hill a plant so rare
Have bred, or only nourish'd there,
I know not, girt with viscid rim,
The purple Catchfly's jointed stem:—
The Shepherd's bristling staff erect:
With purple blooms the Teasel deckt
Concenter'd in an oval crown;
But not like him of more renown,
Arm'd with the bended awns, that pull
Through the close web the knotted wool,
271
The texture with tenacious tooth;
Nor skilful art a tool has plann'd
To match that gift of nature's hand:—
And Broomrape's scaly spikes, around
With tiers of helmed blossoms bound,
Who plants his parasitick shoot
Intrusive on a stranger root,
And, fresh with life, presents to view
The sapless oak leaf's dingy hue.
All these and more, whene'er I look
Well-pleas'd on thy recording book,
Lov'd daughter, of the days gone by,
Past on the banks of wandering Wye,
Memorials to my thought impart,
There pictur'd by thy pleasing art.
Delightful art, when meet combin'd
The Botanist's inquiring mind,
The Painter's plastick eye, and hand
Obedient to the eye's command!
Delightful art, to which the power
Belongs, the perishable flower
To save from imminent decay,
Its form to other days convey,
Fresh blooms to fading beauty give,
And bid the wither'd figure live!
For me, all inexpert to hold
The limner's pencil, and unfold
Sweet nature's rural charms to view,
The worth I own of those who do:
Well-pleas'd in portraiture to trace
The features of the country's face,
And, when forbid the fields to roam,
To ponder these delights at home!
Well-pleas'd on thy recording book,
Lov'd daughter, of the days gone by,
Past on the banks of wandering Wye,
Memorials to my thought impart,
There pictur'd by thy pleasing art.
Delightful art, when meet combin'd
The Botanist's inquiring mind,
The Painter's plastick eye, and hand
Obedient to the eye's command!
Delightful art, to which the power
Belongs, the perishable flower
To save from imminent decay,
Its form to other days convey,
Fresh blooms to fading beauty give,
And bid the wither'd figure live!
For me, all inexpert to hold
The limner's pencil, and unfold
Sweet nature's rural charms to view,
The worth I own of those who do:
Well-pleas'd in portraiture to trace
The features of the country's face,
272
To ponder these delights at home!
July abundant in flowers. Singing of birds subsiding. Supposed causes of their silence. Songs suspended till autumn. The Missel Thrush soon silent. Hedge Chanter, Greenbird, Chaffinch. Blackcap, Redstart, Whitethroat. The Nightingale. Shortness of his stay. Lark and Thrush, why more valuable
I said that June perchance might vie
With May in rich variety
Of novel blossoms, with delight
That paint the fields, and charm the sight.
With many a novel blossom more,
Less copious, yet not small the store,
If duly scann'd will bright July
Reward the investigating eye.
Not so, to charm the listening ears,
Will nature's tuneful choristers
Fresh strains supply of rapture new:
And, as the month glides on, but few
With transport less alert sustain
The musick of their earlier strain.
With May in rich variety
Of novel blossoms, with delight
That paint the fields, and charm the sight.
With many a novel blossom more,
Less copious, yet not small the store,
If duly scann'd will bright July
Reward the investigating eye.
Not so, to charm the listening ears,
Will nature's tuneful choristers
Fresh strains supply of rapture new:
And, as the month glides on, but few
With transport less alert sustain
The musick of their earlier strain.
What causes indistinct commence
To check the general confluence
Of voices from the feather'd throng,
Which swell'd the vernal tide of song?
To check the general confluence
Of voices from the feather'd throng,
Which swell'd the vernal tide of song?
Is it, the quickening breath of Spring,
When all the world is revelling
As with new life, has lost its power,
Supplanted by the summer hour,
Which sinks in languor and in rest
The efforts of each buoyant breast?
Is it, the kindling flame of love
Has ceas'd to answering warmth to move
The ardent tribes, that now no more
Against a rival's song they pour
The torrent of ambitious pride,
Or courtship for the destin'd bride?
Is it, no more, in all the height
And fulness of the heart's delight,
The brooding mate calls forth at hand
Sounds of kind thought and passion bland,
To cheer her wearisome employ,
And tell his own exuberant joy?
When all the world is revelling
As with new life, has lost its power,
Supplanted by the summer hour,
Which sinks in languor and in rest
The efforts of each buoyant breast?
Is it, the kindling flame of love
Has ceas'd to answering warmth to move
The ardent tribes, that now no more
Against a rival's song they pour
273
Or courtship for the destin'd bride?
Is it, no more, in all the height
And fulness of the heart's delight,
The brooding mate calls forth at hand
Sounds of kind thought and passion bland,
To cheer her wearisome employ,
And tell his own exuberant joy?
Whate'er we deem the immediate cause,
Which gives effect to nature's laws,
And with the season brings along
The times of silence and of song;
Full many a voice, which made to ring
With ecstasy the groves of spring,
Its part in that bright concert ends;
Or through the midmost year suspends,
Till the calm autumn's milder day
Again awake the slumbering lay.
Which gives effect to nature's laws,
And with the season brings along
The times of silence and of song;
Full many a voice, which made to ring
With ecstasy the groves of spring,
Its part in that bright concert ends;
Or through the midmost year suspends,
Till the calm autumn's milder day
Again awake the slumbering lay.
Long since the Missel ceas'd his song;
Scarce one among the vernal throng;
Apt with his stirring call to cheer
The dulness of the infant year,
But soon apart and mute he dwells,
Nor e'er the general concert swells.
Scarce one among the vernal throng;
Apt with his stirring call to cheer
The dulness of the infant year,
But soon apart and mute he dwells,
Nor e'er the general concert swells.
But like the Missel, many a bird,
Long 'mid the general concert heard,
Now ere July be well begun,
Or when his middle course is run.
The musick of the groves and fields
To more enduring songsters yields.
Long 'mid the general concert heard,
Now ere July be well begun,
Or when his middle course is run.
The musick of the groves and fields
To more enduring songsters yields.
Mute soon the Chanter of the hedge:
And he, who paints with yellow edge
His pinion's olive plumage green,
Though now he break the silent scene
With sharp quick trill, to July's end
Will scarce that sharp quick trill extend.
More prompt has ceas'd his carol light
The Chaffinch, with bright bars of white
Crossing his wings of velvet black:
And, thinking of their southward track,
The pilgrim gray with sable head;
And he with tail and bosom red;
And he, who on the wing his note
Pours restless from his silvery throat.
And where is he, sweet Philomel,
With rise and fall, and trill and swell,
Melodious? He the advancing year
Forbears with strain prolong'd to cheer,
And leaves with June the evening wood
To silence as to solitude.
And he, who paints with yellow edge
274
Though now he break the silent scene
With sharp quick trill, to July's end
Will scarce that sharp quick trill extend.
More prompt has ceas'd his carol light
The Chaffinch, with bright bars of white
Crossing his wings of velvet black:
And, thinking of their southward track,
The pilgrim gray with sable head;
And he with tail and bosom red;
And he, who on the wing his note
Pours restless from his silvery throat.
And where is he, sweet Philomel,
With rise and fall, and trill and swell,
Melodious? He the advancing year
Forbears with strain prolong'd to cheer,
And leaves with June the evening wood
To silence as to solitude.
Unrivall'd by the general vote
Is Philomel's melodious note:
And favouring accidents agree
To add to that sweet melody,
By dint of rareness, time, and place,
A zest and adventitious grace.
But brief is Philomela's stay,
A few short weeks: that liquid lay
Nor earliest spring delights to hear,
Nor dwells it on midsummer's ear.
Like meteors in the evening sky,
That charm with transient glance the eye,
Bright visions in yon vaulted scene,
But short their times, and far between.
Is Philomel's melodious note:
And favouring accidents agree
To add to that sweet melody,
By dint of rareness, time, and place,
A zest and adventitious grace.
But brief is Philomela's stay,
A few short weeks: that liquid lay
Nor earliest spring delights to hear,
Nor dwells it on midsummer's ear.
Like meteors in the evening sky,
That charm with transient glance the eye,
Bright visions in yon vaulted scene,
But short their times, and far between.
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And so, with more delight I greet,
More welcome inmates, if less sweet,
The merry Lark and Throstle gay:
Not only of the dawning day,
But heralds of the dawning year;
Who their rathe lay in winter's rear
Sing blithe, and all the springtide long,
And scarce suspend the summer song:
Or, if suspended for a while,
Reviv'd by autumn's milder smile
The stream of harmony resume:
Now and again midwinter's gloom
Enlivening, till the brisker strain
Proclaim the opening year again.
Kind friends at hand, like friends indeed,
To aid us in our hour of need;
And sure not dearly for their aid
With food, and house, and home repaid!
More welcome inmates, if less sweet,
The merry Lark and Throstle gay:
Not only of the dawning day,
But heralds of the dawning year;
Who their rathe lay in winter's rear
Sing blithe, and all the springtide long,
And scarce suspend the summer song:
Or, if suspended for a while,
Reviv'd by autumn's milder smile
The stream of harmony resume:
Now and again midwinter's gloom
Enlivening, till the brisker strain
Proclaim the opening year again.
Kind friends at hand, like friends indeed,
To aid us in our hour of need;
And sure not dearly for their aid
With food, and house, and home repaid!
Departure of the Cuckoo. Silent at the beginning of July. Regularity of migratory birds. Different seasons peculiar to different kinds. Different modes of preparation. The Cuckoo's unobserved departure. Congregating of the Swifts. Their departure. Their brief continuance here. Solution of geographical problems. The movements of the Swift a harder problem. Referable to the Divine will
And he, companion of the spring,
The echo bird of vagrant wing,
Whose voice, foregoing all pretence
To charm with tuneful sound the sense,
Yet by association wins
The well-pleas'd mind, while it begins,
And oft the self same note renews,
'Mid nature's fairest sweetest views,
Winging his flight from tree to tree;
“The plain song Cuckoo,” where is he?
With trembling, hoarse, disjointed tune
Of late he gave to parting June
Of coo-coo-coo his farewell cry:
But scarce a greeting to July
Of kind good-morrow waits to pay,
Already on his southward way.
The echo bird of vagrant wing,
Whose voice, foregoing all pretence
To charm with tuneful sound the sense,
Yet by association wins
The well-pleas'd mind, while it begins,
And oft the self same note renews,
'Mid nature's fairest sweetest views,
Winging his flight from tree to tree;
“The plain song Cuckoo,” where is he?
With trembling, hoarse, disjointed tune
Of late he gave to parting June
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But scarce a greeting to July
Of kind good-morrow waits to pay,
Already on his southward way.
I marvel how, from place to place,
Each various migratory race
True to their bidding go and come!
As truly, as at beat of drum
The marshall'd soldiers' prompt array,
They strike their tents, and troop away:
Soon as that secret pow'r directs,
Which reason sees in its effects,
But further knows not to define;
That hidden voice, which gives the sign,
From the hot shores of southmost Spain,
Or sandy Afric's sun-bright reign,
To wing their vernal flight, or back
Retrace the autumnal southward track.
Each various migratory race
True to their bidding go and come!
As truly, as at beat of drum
The marshall'd soldiers' prompt array,
They strike their tents, and troop away:
Soon as that secret pow'r directs,
Which reason sees in its effects,
But further knows not to define;
That hidden voice, which gives the sign,
From the hot shores of southmost Spain,
Or sandy Afric's sun-bright reign,
To wing their vernal flight, or back
Retrace the autumnal southward track.
I marvel, its peculiar time
How each discerns, from clime to clime
The migratory wing to ply:
Some, while the summer sun on high
Yet keeps his hot and lustrous hold;
Nor yet the approaching winter's cold,
Nor autumn's milder reign betrays,
By weaken'd beams or waning days;—
Some, when the breath of autumn stains
The wood, and chills its saples veins,
And the connecting passage shows
From summer's heat to winter's snows;—
Some, not till winter's steps appear
Advancing close on autumn's rear,
And night with more than equal sway
Holds conflict with declining day.
How each discerns, from clime to clime
The migratory wing to ply:
Some, while the summer sun on high
Yet keeps his hot and lustrous hold;
Nor yet the approaching winter's cold,
Nor autumn's milder reign betrays,
By weaken'd beams or waning days;—
Some, when the breath of autumn stains
The wood, and chills its saples veins,
And the connecting passage shows
From summer's heat to winter's snows;—
Some, not till winter's steps appear
Advancing close on autumn's rear,
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Holds conflict with declining day.
I marvel too, what potent cause
These by cognate attraction draws
To council, as the days advance;
And prompts them, ev'n to casual glance
The near approaching flight to tell,
By marks and signs perceptible:
While others pass unnotic'd hence,
Save by the more observant sense;
And, as they came at first, are gone
By stealth, in quiet, and alone.
These by cognate attraction draws
To council, as the days advance;
And prompts them, ev'n to casual glance
The near approaching flight to tell,
By marks and signs perceptible:
While others pass unnotic'd hence,
Save by the more observant sense;
And, as they came at first, are gone
By stealth, in quiet, and alone.
Of late, the hedgerow path along,
The Cuckoo's oft repeated song
Amus'd our ear: perchance our sight
Was taken by his hurried flight.
Again we seek the accustom'd spot,
But now we see and hear him not.
The vanish'd form, the silenc'd tone,
Make his unseen migration known.
The Cuckoo's oft repeated song
Amus'd our ear: perchance our sight
Was taken by his hurried flight.
Again we seek the accustom'd spot,
But now we see and hear him not.
The vanish'd form, the silenc'd tone,
Make his unseen migration known.
Not so the bird of shortest feet,
And longest stretch of wing! Complete
The end which brought him to our shore,
The task of incubation o'er,
And firm and fledg'd his new-born twins;
He now in airy sport begins
To busk him for the approaching flight.
In gathering troops from morn to night,
With dart and wheel, with scream and squeak,
Which the heart's buoyancy bespeak,
Aloft amid the azure sky
Their pinions' rival speed they try;
Embracing in their daily play
A space, might bear them on their way
From Britain's isles to southmost Spain,
The northern to the midland main.
And longest stretch of wing! Complete
The end which brought him to our shore,
The task of incubation o'er,
And firm and fledg'd his new-born twins;
He now in airy sport begins
To busk him for the approaching flight.
In gathering troops from morn to night,
With dart and wheel, with scream and squeak,
Which the heart's buoyancy bespeak,
Aloft amid the azure sky
Their pinions' rival speed they try;
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A space, might bear them on their way
From Britain's isles to southmost Spain,
The northern to the midland main.
So all prepar'd, the secret sign
Obeying of the voice divine,
Which speechless whispers to their breast,
(The effect we see, but how imprest
That secret sign we little know,
Or what their moving cause to go;)
Hence with the tempest's speed they start,
The last to come, the first to part,
Of all the swallow's fourfold race.
May saw them first in amorous chase
Cleave with swift wing our British air:—
June on their close domestick care
Mark'd them intent:—the well-fledg'd young,
Now mixt their parent troops among,
High in the liquid ether play:—
And, long ere August's midmost day,
Shall Britain on her southern shore
Salute the pilgrim Swift no more.
Obeying of the voice divine,
Which speechless whispers to their breast,
(The effect we see, but how imprest
That secret sign we little know,
Or what their moving cause to go;)
Hence with the tempest's speed they start,
The last to come, the first to part,
Of all the swallow's fourfold race.
May saw them first in amorous chase
Cleave with swift wing our British air:—
June on their close domestick care
Mark'd them intent:—the well-fledg'd young,
Now mixt their parent troops among,
High in the liquid ether play:—
And, long ere August's midmost day,
Shall Britain on her southern shore
Salute the pilgrim Swift no more.
What problems, many an age involv'd
In night, had man's experience solv'd,
Could man have learn'd to mount the drift,
And travel with the pilgrim Swift!
Not then about the central zone
A cloud had ancient error thrown,
As if the sun inflam'd the air
Surpassing human life to bear:—
Not then had Afric's Cape of Storm
Obscur'd so long its mountain form;
And stay'd its boundaries to reveal,
Till plough'd by Lusitanian keel:—
Not then had Nile his lurking source,
Nor Niger then his seaward course,
Conceal'd, a monument to raise
To Britain's sons these latter days.
Such mysteries long had man descried,
The Swift's accustom'd tracks his guide.
In night, had man's experience solv'd,
Could man have learn'd to mount the drift,
And travel with the pilgrim Swift!
Not then about the central zone
A cloud had ancient error thrown,
As if the sun inflam'd the air
Surpassing human life to bear:—
Not then had Afric's Cape of Storm
Obscur'd so long its mountain form;
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Till plough'd by Lusitanian keel:—
Not then had Nile his lurking source,
Nor Niger then his seaward course,
Conceal'd, a monument to raise
To Britain's sons these latter days.
Such mysteries long had man descried,
The Swift's accustom'd tracks his guide.
But harder problems than to show,
With what degrees of fervour glow
The beams of equatorial suns;
Or to what length to pole-ward runs
The southern cape; or where ascends
Nile's bubbling stream, or Niger's ends;
The wandering Swift himself supplies:
How with unerring aim he plies
His earlier and his later flight;
By what nice sense, surpassing sight,
Experience, reasoning thought combin'd,
By what strange energy of mind,
(If mind we dare that instinct call,)
In one concurrent council all
Impell'd, at stated seasons plan,
Commence, complete their course; while man
Alert to scrutinise the laws
Of nature, and each secret cause,
Avows, beyond what meets the eye,
Their motions ill can he descry,
Fain to refer the end, the road,
The season, all to nature's God!
With what degrees of fervour glow
The beams of equatorial suns;
Or to what length to pole-ward runs
The southern cape; or where ascends
Nile's bubbling stream, or Niger's ends;
The wandering Swift himself supplies:
How with unerring aim he plies
His earlier and his later flight;
By what nice sense, surpassing sight,
Experience, reasoning thought combin'd,
By what strange energy of mind,
(If mind we dare that instinct call,)
In one concurrent council all
Impell'd, at stated seasons plan,
Commence, complete their course; while man
Alert to scrutinise the laws
Of nature, and each secret cause,
Avows, beyond what meets the eye,
Their motions ill can he descry,
Fain to refer the end, the road,
The season, all to nature's God!
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Same cause produces the fruits of the earth. Wild fruits ripe. Strawberries, &c. Garden fruits. Cherries, Apricots. Corn in ear: Wheat, Barley, Oats. Flax in blossom. Potatoes, Hops. Beans, Vetches, Peas: their papilionaceous forms. The proprietor's feelings. The passenger's
And what, but nature's God, his wealth
Pours forth profuse; while, as by stealth,
Unseen, we know not how, the earth
With many a fast maturing birth
Is mantled, and completes her part,
To glad man's face, and cheer his heart?
Pours forth profuse; while, as by stealth,
Unseen, we know not how, the earth
With many a fast maturing birth
Is mantled, and completes her part,
To glad man's face, and cheer his heart?
On shady hills and woodland banks,
Or the trim garden's cultur'd ranks,
Half seen, in many-colour'd heaps,
The granulated Strawberry peeps
Abundant from his leafy bed.
Blue Bilberries, Whortleberries red,
And scarlet Cranberries' richer prize,
Stain'd with the bright vermilion's dies,
This oval, those of form globose,
In heath, or moor, or peaty moss,
Where bloom'd of late the shrub-borne bell,
Now to their full siz'd ripeness swell,
And moulded in the sugar'd paste
Court with sharp zest the approving taste.
Or the trim garden's cultur'd ranks,
Half seen, in many-colour'd heaps,
The granulated Strawberry peeps
Abundant from his leafy bed.
Blue Bilberries, Whortleberries red,
And scarlet Cranberries' richer prize,
Stain'd with the bright vermilion's dies,
This oval, those of form globose,
In heath, or moor, or peaty moss,
Where bloom'd of late the shrub-borne bell,
Now to their full siz'd ripeness swell,
And moulded in the sugar'd paste
Court with sharp zest the approving taste.
See, pendent from the branching bough,
Of sanguine or empurpled glow,
The clustering Cherry's glossy balls.
And studding thick the sunny walls,
First of his luscious tribe to bear
To ripeness in our northern air,
Unshelter'd from the nipping cold,
His fruit, now ripening into gold,
With blush of roseate brown inrobes
The Apricot his pulpy globes.
Of sanguine or empurpled glow,
The clustering Cherry's glossy balls.
And studding thick the sunny walls,
First of his luscious tribe to bear
To ripeness in our northern air,
Unshelter'd from the nipping cold,
His fruit, now ripening into gold,
With blush of roseate brown inrobes
The Apricot his pulpy globes.
From blades of blue-ting'd verdure rears
The Wheat its sharp and swelling ears,
And its fresh green with change indues
Day after day of richer hues,
Till dipt in molten gold it seem,
Stol'n from Pactolus' fabled stream.
The bristling Barley's purple bloom
Waves in the gale its egret plume:
Waved in the gale as lightly float
The pendents of the bended Oat.
The Wheat its sharp and swelling ears,
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Day after day of richer hues,
Till dipt in molten gold it seem,
Stol'n from Pactolus' fabled stream.
The bristling Barley's purple bloom
Waves in the gale its egret plume:
Waved in the gale as lightly float
The pendents of the bended Oat.
O'er its green stalks the flax-field draws
A meshy veil of azure gauze,
So thick the scatter'd blossoms lie:
Till every bright cerulean eye,
As tir'd and studious of repose,
The sun's receding splendour close;
At morn their eyelids to unfold,
And his warm rays again behold.
A meshy veil of azure gauze,
So thick the scatter'd blossoms lie:
Till every bright cerulean eye,
As tir'd and studious of repose,
The sun's receding splendour close;
At morn their eyelids to unfold,
And his warm rays again behold.
Green 'mid brown earth's alternate rows
Its flow'rs the dark Potato shows,
With yellow cones appearing through
Its wheel-like blossoms, white or blue.
Its flow'rs the dark Potato shows,
With yellow cones appearing through
Its wheel-like blossoms, white or blue.
Round the tall pole tenacious sweeps
The spiral Hop, and twisting creeps
Aloft with hairy stalk, and weaves
His scaly flow'rs 'mid rugged leaves.
The spiral Hop, and twisting creeps
Aloft with hairy stalk, and weaves
His scaly flow'rs 'mid rugged leaves.
Here stands, what lately blooming lent
To passing gales delicious scent,
Erect the podded Bean: and there
The wing'd and many-blossom'd Tare
To every friendly object clings
With its lithe tendril's curling rings.
And there the Pea, with pranked dies,
In shape like painted butterflies,
That flit from flow'r to flow'r, and sip
Metheglin from each nectar'd lip,
Scarce bending to the touch; and play
In the blue sky, and to the ray
Of noontide shew their gleaming sails,
Vesture all hues, and feathery scales.
To passing gales delicious scent,
Erect the podded Bean: and there
The wing'd and many-blossom'd Tare
To every friendly object clings
With its lithe tendril's curling rings.
And there the Pea, with pranked dies,
In shape like painted butterflies,
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Metheglin from each nectar'd lip,
Scarce bending to the touch; and play
In the blue sky, and to the ray
Of noontide shew their gleaming sails,
Vesture all hues, and feathery scales.
With fond anticipating hope,
Presageful of the future crop,
Each fruitful field the owner eyes,
And triumphs in the expected prize.
He too, the casual passer by,
To whom all nature's gifts supply
Food for improving pleasing thought,
He, with no selfish interest fraught,
Exulting hails each promis'd boon;
And feels it for the time his own;
And lifts his heart to Him, whose hand,
Still prompt in bounty to expand,
Is fain the things he made to bless,
And fills with food and joyfulness!
Presageful of the future crop,
Each fruitful field the owner eyes,
And triumphs in the expected prize.
He too, the casual passer by,
To whom all nature's gifts supply
Food for improving pleasing thought,
He, with no selfish interest fraught,
Exulting hails each promis'd boon;
And feels it for the time his own;
And lifts his heart to Him, whose hand,
Still prompt in bounty to expand,
Is fain the things he made to bless,
And fills with food and joyfulness!
Delight of contemplating the year's fruitfulness. The liberal rich man. The poor man. His offering of gratitude well pleasing. Proportionate returns due from all for God's bounty
O, 'tis a sight the soul to cheer,
The promise of the fruitful year,
When God abroad his bounty flings,
And answering nature laughs and sings!
He “for the evil and the good,”
For them, who with heart's gratitude,
And them, who thanklessly receive
The blessings he vouchsafes to give,
Bids from his storehouse in the skies
“His rain descend, his sun arise !”
The promise of the fruitful year,
When God abroad his bounty flings,
And answering nature laughs and sings!
He “for the evil and the good,”
For them, who with heart's gratitude,
And them, who thanklessly receive
The blessings he vouchsafes to give,
Bids from his storehouse in the skies
“His rain descend, his sun arise !”
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I love to see kind heav'n bestow
Abundance on mankind below:
Then chief, when 'tis bestow'd on one,
Who lives not for himself alone,
But, like the rich and fruitful ground,
What he receives, disperses round,
In part to bless the sons of men;
And grateful gives a part again,
Like incense-breathing fields, to rise
In tribute to the bounteous skies.
Abundance on mankind below:
Then chief, when 'tis bestow'd on one,
Who lives not for himself alone,
But, like the rich and fruitful ground,
What he receives, disperses round,
In part to bless the sons of men;
And grateful gives a part again,
Like incense-breathing fields, to rise
In tribute to the bounteous skies.
Nor less I love to see the store
Augmented of the lowly poor;
By honest toil industrious wrought,
By frugal care, and prudent thought,
With peacefulness and heart's content,
Which of the Fount of good, that sent
Life and its blessings, mindful, pays
To Him the meed of thankful praise.
And though to Him, who gives us all,
The turf-built altar be but small,
The offering there of little price;
And from that humble sacrifice,
So the world deems, a trivial flame
Ascending, though with heav'nward aim,
With but a feeble light arise,
And seek acceptance from the skies:—
I know not but as rich a scent
That turf-built altar may present,
Expressive of the heart's desire,
That offering poor, and feeble fire,
As grateful to the smell divine;
As, flaming on the golden shrine,
Ten thousand hecatombs, and more,
In homage from the imperial store.
Augmented of the lowly poor;
By honest toil industrious wrought,
By frugal care, and prudent thought,
With peacefulness and heart's content,
Which of the Fount of good, that sent
Life and its blessings, mindful, pays
To Him the meed of thankful praise.
And though to Him, who gives us all,
The turf-built altar be but small,
The offering there of little price;
And from that humble sacrifice,
So the world deems, a trivial flame
Ascending, though with heav'nward aim,
With but a feeble light arise,
And seek acceptance from the skies:—
I know not but as rich a scent
That turf-built altar may present,
Expressive of the heart's desire,
That offering poor, and feeble fire,
As grateful to the smell divine;
As, flaming on the golden shrine,
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In homage from the imperial store.
To all, what best his wisdom knows,
The bounty of our God bestows.
From all, to whom a boon he gives,
But most from him, who most receives,
In acts below of peace and love,
In acts of praise to Him above,
He claims, of what he gives, a part:
From all at least a thankful heart,
Which, soaring on devotion's wing,
Up to the throne of nature's King
Itself in holy vision lifts,
And owns the Giver in his gifts.
The bounty of our God bestows.
From all, to whom a boon he gives,
But most from him, who most receives,
In acts below of peace and love,
In acts of praise to Him above,
He claims, of what he gives, a part:
From all at least a thankful heart,
Which, soaring on devotion's wing,
Up to the throne of nature's King
Itself in holy vision lifts,
And owns the Giver in his gifts.
| The British Months | |