As the fond parent for a while
Checks sweet Forgiveness' nascent smile,
Pleased still to hear Affection duteous plead;
Thus, by thine absence, still prolong,
Nor seem to smile upon the song,
Which so melodious mourns by tardy speed:
Though at thy smile the wintry blast depart,
The lyre can melt the soul, can animate the heart.—
Say, can the glittering things,
Of which Hope fondly sings,
Inspire with equal pleasure, when possest;
As can Hope's angel tongue,
With softest music hung,
Her fairy tales, and dreams of promised rest?
Thus could I listen to the voice of song,
Content to hope for spring, nor think the winter long.
AUTUMNAL SKETCH.
ANONYMOUS.
THROUGH forest paths, o'erstrewed with rustling
October comes, to deck the fading year;
And of its spoil a varied chaplet weaves,
Erelong to hang on pallid Autumn's bier.
The dew-drop on his brow congeals;
His golden locks the wood-blast steals;
The scattering wind his chequer'd mautle rends,
And o'er his form the tempest-cloud impends,
Pale are the flowers that thinly plant his way;
The gelid drops o'ercharge their closing bells;
Their tissued wardrobe falls in quick decay;
And nightly cold their blushing grace dispels.
Their drooping heads the frost-star gems;
The whirlwind shakes their pensile stems:
Their transient bloom they shortly must resign,
And with their relics mark the year's decline.
The purple-vested Morn her hour delays,
And lingering seems with doubtful mien to rise;
Gold-sceptred Day a shorten'd visit pays,
And Night with raven crest usurps the skies.
With early beam, the vesper star
Flames on Twilight's misty car;
And swiftly to the chambers of the West,
The crimson-curtained Evening sinks to rest.
In wizard forms the dusky vapours float,
And veil the woodlands in their dim disguise;
The Robiu trills his solitary note,
And tunes in warbling plaint his elegies:
The orphan beauties of the year
In melancholy train appear;
Pay their last mournful tribute to its shade,
And o'er its desolated ruins fade.
For soon the wheels of Winter's icy car
Shall crush these fragments of the shatter'd year;*
Ev'n now, his hollow murmurs, from afar,
Proclaim the fury of his empire drear.
The echoing blast, his herald, blows;
His meteor torch blue-tinctur'd glows;
For Nature's sleep he weaves a snowy vest,
And soon shall rock her languid frame to rest.
The curl'd leaf, flitting on the blast,
The moaning gale, the shadowy sky,
Denote the Sun's dominion past,
And shades of northern darkness nigh: For Sirius gems the zone of night, And, clad in giant armour bright, Orion, Winter's sentinel, ascends,
And o'er the sleeping world his watchful light suspends.
"WATCH no more the twinkling stars; Watch no more the chalky bourne; Lady! from the Holy wars
Never will thy love return!
Cease to weep, and cease to mourn,
Thy lover never will return,
"Watch no more the yellow moon,
Peering o'er the mountain's head;
Rosy day, returning soon,
Will see thy lover pale and dead!
Cease to weep, and cease to mourn, Thy lover will no more return! "Lady, in the Holy Wars, Fighting for the cross, he died: Low he lies, and many scars Mark his cold and mangled side: In his winding sheet he lies, Lady, check those rending sighs. "Hark! the hollow soundiug gale Seems to sweep in murmurs by, Sinking slowly down the vale, Wherefore, gentle Lady, sigh? Wherefore moan, and wherefore sigh? Lady! all that live must die.
"Now the stars are fading fast:
Swift their brilliant course are run:
Soon shall dreary night be past,
Soon shall rise the cheering sun!
The sun will rise to gladden thee;
Lady, lady, cheerful be."
So spake a voice! While sad and lone
Upon a lofty tower reclin'd,
A Lady sat: the pale moon shone,
And sweetly blew the summer wind;
Yet still disconsolate in mind,
The lonely lady sat reclin'd.
The lofty tower was ivy clad,
And round a dreary forest rose;
The midnight bell was tolling sad-
"Twas tolling for a soul's repose!
The lady heard the gate unclose,
And from her seat in terror rose.-
The summer moon shone bright and clear :
She saw the castle gates unclose;
And now she saw four monks appear,
Loud chanting for a soul's repose.
Forbear, O Lady! look no more-
They pass'd-a livid corpse they bore.
They pass'd: and all was silent now;
The trees upon the forest slept :
The moon stole o'er the mountain's brow,
Again the lady sigh'd and wept:
She watch'd the holy fathers go
Along the forest path below.
And now the dawn was bright, the dew
Upon the yellow heath was seen :
The clouds were of a rosy hue,
The sunny lustre shone between :
The Lady to the chapel ran,
While the slow matin prayer began.
And then, once more, the fathers grey
She mark'd, employ'd in holy prayer:
Her heart was full, she could not pray,
For love and fear were masters there.
Ah Lady! thou wilt pray ere long
To sleep these lonely aisles among!
And now the matin prayers were o'er;
The barefoot monks, of order grey
Were thronging to the chapel door,
When there the Lady stopp'd the way:
"Tell me," she cried, "whose corpse so
pale,
Last night ye bore along the vale ?”
"Oh Lady! question us no more:
No corpse did we
The Lady sunk upon the floor,
Her quiv'ring lip was deathly pale.
The barefoot monks now whisper'd, sad,
"God grant our Lady be not mad."
The monks departing, one by one,
The chapel gates in silence close: Then from the altar steps, of stone, The trembling Lady feebly goes: While the morning sheds a ruby light, The painted windows glowing bright.
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