Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes,
That gentle maid! and oft a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence; till the moon
Emerging, hath awakened earth and sky
With one sensation, and these wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if one quick and sudden gale had swept
An hundred airy harps! And she hath watched
Many a Nightingale perch giddily
On bloss❜ming twig, still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song
Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head. -
Farewell, O warbler! till to-morrow eve,
And you, my friends, farewell, a short farewell!
We have been loitering long and pleasantly,
And now for our dear homes.-That strain again?
Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe,
Who, capable of no articulate sound,
Mars all things with his imitative lisp,
How he would place his hand beside his ear,
His little hand, his small forefinger up,
And bid us listen! And I deem it wise
To make him Nature's play-mate. He knows well
The evening star; and once, when he awoke
In most distressful mood, (some inward pain
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream,)
I hurried with him to our orchard plot,
And he beheld the moon, and, hushed at once,
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropt tears,
Did glitter in the yellow moonbeam! Well!-
It is a father's tale: but if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate joy! Once more, farewell,
Sweet Nightingale! Once more, my friends, farewell!
ROM brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's
depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
And ever fanning Breezes, on his way;
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her bashful face, and earth and skies,
All smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent Sun
Melts into limpid air the high-raised clouds,
And morning fogs, that hovered round the hills
In party-coloured bands; till wide unveiled
The face of Nature shines, from where Earth seems,
Far stretched around, to meet the bending Sphere.-
'Tis raging noon; and vertical the Sun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as ranging eye
Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all,
From pole to pole, is undistinguished blaze.
In vain the sight, dejected to the ground,
Stoops for relief; thence hot ascending Steams,
And keen Reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parched, the cleaving fields
And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blasts fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the Soul.
Echo no more returns the cheerful sound
Of sharpening scythe, the mower, sinking, heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed;
And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard
Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants.
The very streams look languid from afar;
Or, through the unsheltered glade, impatient, seem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.
Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side
UMMER was in its prime ;—the parrot flocks
Darkened the passing sunshine on the rocks;
The chrysomel and purple butterfly
Amid the clear blue light are wandering by;
The humming-bird, along the myrtle bowers,
With twinkling wing, is spinning o'er the flowers;
The woodpecker is heard with busy bill,
The mock-bird sings-and all beside is still.
And look! the cataract that bursts so high,
As not to mar the deep tranquillity,
The tumult of its dashing fall suspends,
And stealing drop by drop, in mist descends;
Through whose illumined spray, and sprinkling dew,
Shine to the adverse sun the broken rainbow hues,
Chequering, with partial shade, the beams of noon,
And arching the grey rock with wild festoon,
Here, its gay net-work, and fantastic twine,
The purple cogul threads from pine to pine,
And oft as the fresh airs of morning breathe,
Dips its long tendrils in the stream beneath.
There, through the trunks, with moss and lichens white
The sunshine darts its interrupted light,
And, 'mid the cedar's darksome bough, illumes
With instant touch, the lori's scarlet plumes.
Just heard to trickle through a covert near,
And soothing, with perpetual lapse, the ear,
A fount, like rain-drops filtered through the stone,
And, bright as amber, on the shallows shone.
Intent his fairy pastime to pursue,
And gem-like hovering o'er the violet's blue,
The humming-bird, here, its unceasing song
Heedlessly murmured all the summer long;
And when the winter came, retired to rest,
And from the myrtles hung its trembling nest.
No sounds of a conflicting world were near;
The noise of ocean faintly met the ear,
That seemed, as sunk to rest the noontide blast,
But dying sounds of passion that were past;
Or closing anthems, when far off, expire
The lessening echoes of the distant choir.
EAUTIFUL creature! I have been
Months uncounted watching thee,
Now flitting round the foliage green
Of yonder dark, embowering tree;
And now again in frolic glee,
Hovering around those opening flowers,
Happy as nature's child should be,
Born to enjoy her loveliest bowers.
And I have gazed upon thy flight,
Till feelings I can scarce define,
Awakened by so fair a sight,
With desultory thoughts combine-
Not to induce me to repine,
Or envy thee thy happiness;
But from a lot so bright as thine,
To borrow musings born to bless.
Then thou, delightful creature, who
Wert yesterday a sightless worm,
Becom❜st a symbol fair and true,
Of hopes that own no mortal term;
In thy proud change we see the germ
Of man's sublimer destiny,
While holiest oracles confirm
The type of immortality!
A change more glorious far than thine,
Even I, thy fellow-worm, may know,
When this exhausted frame of mine
Down to its kindred dust shall go;
When the anxiety and woe
Of being's embryo state shall seem
Like phantoms flitting to and fro
In some confused and feverish dream.
For thee, who flittest gaily now,
With all thy nature asks supplied,
A few brief summer days and thou
No more amid these haunts shalt glide,
As hope's fair herald-in thy pride
The sylph-like genius of the scene,
But, sunk in dark oblivion's tide,
Shalt be-as thou hadst never been!
When man's immortal part, when time
Shall set the chainless spirit free,
May seek a brighter, happier clime
Than fancy e'er could feign for thee;
Though bright her fairy bowers may be,
Yet brief as bright her beauties fade,
And sad experience mourns to see
Each gourd-hope trusted in decayed.
Sport on, then, lovely summer fly,
With whom began my votive strain :
Yet purer joys their hopes supply,
Who, by faith's alchemy, obtain
Comfort in sorrow, bliss in pain,
Freedom in bondage, light in gloom,
Through earthly losses heavenly gain,
And life immortal through the tomb.
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