And Spring hung down her head, And her children, one by one, Drooped, mingled with the dead; And soon they all were gone.

And Spring did slowly wane,

Till one sun-glorious day

She yielded up her reign,
And vanished away.

And SUMMER then came forth,
A proud and happy mother;
Her children graced the earth,
Each fairer than the other.

She looked from out the sky
With eyes of laughing blue,
And the fervid sun on high

Smiled gaily earthward too.

She laid her hand on sea,

River, and brook, and lake, And all flowed peacefully,

And scarce a wave did make.

She stripped the hoary hills

Of all their capes of snow,

And bade the mountain rills

Run singing as they go.

She spread out far and wide

The bonnie blooming Heather,

And bade the Water Lilies ride

Yellow and white together.

She made the day-break glad and bright,
And softly calm the gloaming,
For lovers fond, who in the light
Of the silver moon were roaming.

Oh! Summer was a glorious queen,
But sorrow soon came o'er her;
Her flowers of beauty waned, I ween,
Like Spring's young buds before her.

The Rose, her fairest darling, fell,

And left but thorns behind;

The Woodbine, Jasmine, lost their smell,

The Lilies all declined.

And one by one they drooped and died,

Till all had passed away;

And where triumphant Summer's pride

AUTUMN.

(Allegro è spiritoso.)

Come, greet merry AUTUMN, she's heiress of Spring,
Who left her a fortune of Flowers;

Come, welcome her in, let the Heather-bells ring,
And the Harebell's soft music be ours.

Sing, hey for bright Autumn! her triumphs we 'll speak,
And love her rich gifts and her bonny brown cheek.

She has wealth all uncounted; the blossoms of Spring
Fell fluttering down from the spray,

But they left in their place each a germ that should bring
A rich treasure for Autumn to-day.

Then, hey for the heiress! her treasures we'll seek,
And love the deep tinge of her bonny brown cheek.

She hath swelling hills girdled with broad belts of gold,
All waving so bright i' the sun;

She hath fruits, fair as jewels, that cannot be told;
And all this vast wealth may be won!

Then, hey for rich Autumn! and, ere the trees break,
Go gather the fruit with the bloom on its cheek!

To the orchard, the garden, ye epicures go,

Where the smooth luscious Nectarines shine; But afar o'er the hills do the Blackberries grow,

And the Blackberry's fruit shall be mine.

Away! o'er the hills where the breezy winds speak, Singing hey for rich Autumn's bright eye and brown cheek!

Away o'er the mountains! where Heather-bells ring,

Away, where the tall Foxgloves wave,

Where the wild Rose we loved 'mid the flow'rets of Spring Hath a monument left o'er her grave;

For her bright berries stand like an epitaph there,

To remind us of one so short-lived and so fair.

Away o'er the hills, to the deep dingle, where
O'er the rocks, like a tapestry, flung,
Hang broadly the Blackberry bushes, for there
No statelier tree would have sprung.

Then clinging and clambering warily down,
Beware of your footing-and eke of your gown.

The gourmand may smile at our rustic dessert,
But there's a sweet infantine thrill

Of gladness and glee that comes over my heart
In these scenes, and I feel a child still :

Oh! I would not exchange a rough Blackberry dell
For aught that in orchard or garden may dwell!

X