THE AUTUMN DAY.

Now the day,

O'er heaven and earth diffused, grows warm, and high

Infinite splendour! wide investing all.

How still the breeze! save what the filmy threads

Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain.

How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply tinged

With a peculiar blue! the ethereal arch

How swelled immense! amid whose azure throned,
The radiant sun how gay! how calm below
The gilded earth! the harvest-treasures all
Now gathered in, beyond the rage of storms,
Sure to the swain; the circling fence shut up;
And instant Winter's utmost rage defied;
While, loose to festive joy, the country round

Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth,

Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth,
By the quick sense of music taught alone,
Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance.
Her every charm abroad, the village toast,
Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich,
Darts not unmeaning looks; and, where her eye
Points an approving smile, with double force

The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines.

Age too shines out; and, garrulous, recounts

The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think
That, with to-morrow's sun, their annual toil

Begins again the never-ceasing round.

THOMSON.

ITH slaughtering guns the unwearied fowler roves, When frosts have whitened all the naked groves, Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade, And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye; Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky: Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death: Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.

POPE.

AFTER A TEMPEST.

HE day had been a day of wind and storm ;—
The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,―
And stooping from the zenith, bright and warm,
Shone the great sun on the wide earth, at last
I stood upon the upland slope, and cast

My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene,

Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast, And hills o'er hills lifted their heads of green,

With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between.

The rain-drops glistened on the trees around,

Whose shadows on the tall grass were not stirred, Save when a shower of diamonds to the ground Was shaken by the flight of startled bird;

For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard About the flowers; the cheerful rivulet sung

And gossipped, as he hastened ocean-ward;

To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung,

And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung.

And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry
Flew many a glittering insect here and there,

And darted up and down the butterfly,

That seemed a living blossom of the air.

The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where The violent rain had pent them, in the way

Strolled groups of damsels frolicsome and fair,

The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,

And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play.

It was a scene of peace-and, like a spell,
Did that serene and golden sunlight fall
Upon the motionless wood that clothed the cell,
And precipice upspringing like a wall,

And glassy river and white waterfall,

And happy living things that trod the bright

And beauteous scene; while, far beyond them all,

On many a lovely valley, out of sight,

Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light.

I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
An emblem of the peace that yet shall be,
When o'er earth's continents and isles between

The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea,
And married nations dwell in harmony.
When millions, crouching in the dust to one,

No more shall beg their lives on bended knee,
Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun
The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done.

Too long at clash of arms amid her bowers,

And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast,
The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers
And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last
The storm, and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past;
Lo, the clouds roll away-they break-they fly,
And, like the glorious light of Summer, cast

O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky,
On all the peaceful world the smile of Heaven shall lie.

BRYANT.

A SUMMER'S DAY.

T is a sultry day; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass,
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent save the faint

And interrupted murmur of the bee,

Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervours; the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scorching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven,-
Their bases on the mountains-their white tops
Shining in the far ether-fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?

O come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now,
Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak