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Smit with electric horror, prone to earth
Long on thy progress, Autumn, shall my feet
Mild is thy brow this morn. A gentle frost Spangles with icy dew the grass. The rime Floats thin diffus'd in air ; not as condens'd By wintry vapour its impervious fog Blots out the neighbouring covert, every twig Thickening with feathery silver, and the locks Of peasant wilder'd in the dazzling gloom ; But twinkling in the sun its lucid veil
Softens each harder outline, and apace
WINTER. AN ELEGY.
F. N. C. MUNDY, ESQ.
With Autumn grateful to the reapers' toil.
e frost ime
For, lo! sad change! from yonder gathering cloud
Stern Winter wildly comes in dark array:
High on a storm, with visage fierce and pale,
The barren Eurus rides; the rain descends :
Its hoarse rough howls the dashing torrent sends.
Where are those rural charms that fed my eyes, The cowslip'd meadow, and the hedge-row
green? In one wide waste the snow-clad landscape lies ;'
And frost with withering hand deforms the scene.
I sought the copse, the joyous thrush's haunt;
For much I wish'd her melody to hear : « In vain I woo'd her to begin her chaunty
Nor joyous thrush, nor melody were there.
In social troops the silent larks are found,
Picking with busy bill their scanty food : Ah me! I hear the gun's destructive sound,
And the snow blushes with their harmless blood!
Sweet birds ! are these the sports of reasoning man?
Thus doth his savage hand your songs repay, Wbich bade his joys awake when Spring began, Which cheer'd in Summer's heat the toilsome
The red-breast, wisely confident, presumes
To screen his weakness in the peopled cot; And, sweetly thankful for the scatter'd crumbs,
Pays the cheap bounty with his warbled note.
Now dull and dreary wakes the tardy morn,
The sickly Sun resigns his noontide power, Night comes, and Fear, of Melancholy born,
Adds a new horror to the darkling hour.
At every bush, at every sudden breeze,
Starts the lone traveller on bis wilderd way;" In his own shade a thousand deaths he sees,
And stops, and pants, and listens in dismay,
The night-bird's thrice-flapp'd wing, and shriek
ings fell, Denounce the pining sick man's hopeless doom; In the hush air imperfect whispers dwell
Of demons prowling thro' the midnight gloom.
Stone-hearted Murder bathes his sword in blood,
Rapine, foul fiend, leads forth his lawless band; Insatiate Hunger calls amain for food,
While pale-eyed Famine howls along the land.
Where are thy haunts, O Cheerfulness! the bower
Of Spring no more invites thee; nor the walk At Summer's eve, beneath thy guardian power
Where late I listen'd to my Laura's talk.
Nor art thou seen within the courts of Pride;
Ambition drives thy peaceful image thence : Tho' feast, and sport, and laughter there abide,
Excess and riot pall thy nicer sense.
At length thy coy retirement I have found,
Where smokes the cottage in the shelter'd vale; Where, whilst his rústic friends the hearth sur
His heart is humble as the garb he wears,
Like his coarse daily food, his manners plain ; Contentment's blessing the dull season cheers,
And the storm beats upon his roof in vain.
The smiles of innocence his temper guard,
And from his threshold banish home-bred strife; Fresh health, and honest gains his toils reward;
And one continued Summer rules his life.
Learn hence, ye vain, ye idle, and ye proud,
When the dark storms of bleak misfortune lower, 'Tis Virtue only can dispel the cloud,
And bless with cheerfulness the wintry hour..
ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
DR DWIGHT. O Thou, whose bursting beams in glory rise, And spread, and brighten through unbounded
skies! Creation's joy, Earth's ever bounteous King! Great Source of good! and life's eternal spring! All hail ! while cloth'd in beauty's brightest ray, Thy face unclouded gives the new-born day! Above all scenes is plac'd thy heavenly throne; Ere time began, thy vivid splendour shone : Sublime from east to west thy chariot rolls, Cheers the wide earth, and warms the distant
poles ; Commands the vegetable race to grow, The fruit to ripen, and the flower to blow. This world was born to change; the band of Time Makes and unmakes the scenes of every clime : The insect millions scarce the morn surviveOne transient day the flowery nations live: A few short years complete man's mortal doom, Then pale Death summons to the narrow tomb. Lash'd by the flood, the hard rocks wear away; Worn by the storm, the less'ning hills decay; Unchang'd alone is thine exalted flame, From endless years to endless years the same; Thy splendours with immortal beauty shine, Roll round the eternal Heav'n, and speak thy