VI. SEPTEMBER, 1815. WHILE not a leaf seems faded ; while the fields, With ripening harvest prodigally fair, In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air, Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields His icy scimitar, a foretasto yields Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware; And whispers to the silent birds, “Prepare Against the threatening for your trustiest shields." For me, who under kindlier laws belong To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky, Announce a season potent to renew, Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song, And nobler cares than listless summer knew. VII. NOVEMBER 1. How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright Uprisen, as if to check approaching Night, And all her twinkling stars! Who now would tread, If so he might, yon mountain's glittering head— Terrestrial, but a surface, by the flight Of sad mortality's earth-sullying' wing, Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aërial Powers Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring Has filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers. ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul, While trees, dim-scen, in frenzied numbers, tear And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, how! Large space (mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky, Of providential goodness ever nigh! IX. TO A SNOW-DROP. LONE Flower, hemmed in with snows, and white as they. But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, X. TO THE LADY MARY LOWTHER.. With a selection from the Poeme of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea: and extracts el similar character from other Writers; transcribet by a female friend LADY! I rifled a Parnassian Cave (But seldom trod) of mildly-gleaming ore ; To female hands the treasures were resigned; |