STREET. 
 CO. 
 
THE SEASONS 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES THOMSON. 
 
 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON IIIS 
 GENIUS AND CHARACTER; 
 
 NOTES, EXPLANATORY AND CRITICAL, 
 
 JAMES ROBERT BOYD, 
 
 EDITOR OF THE I I lljiilljlll 1 I. \ HI 1 1 III Jill I ' NIGHT THOUGHTS, 
 
 UHIYBBSITY 
 
 "The Seasons," a J^^^hp^feH"drt ^i^P^D^ the unfading beauties 
 Nature, will live as long aa^gfejfe^jg WJffljgiyfr^ritten shall be re<t<l 
 
 DR. AIKJ>. 
 
 REVISED EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 A. S. BARNES & CO., 51 JOHN- STREET. 
 
 CINCINNATI: II. W. DERBY A CO. 
 1856. 
 
-..:-: -:.yfc:> ; .- ^ 
 
 -.:: :--::.\V. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852 
 BY A. S. BARNES & CO. 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 RICHARD C. VALENTINE. 
 NEW YORK.. 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION, 
 
 IN this age, when the press is covering our land with 
 a frivolous and pernicious literature, there is great dan- 
 ger that the rising generation will too much neglect, if 
 not entirely lose sight of, those noble and solid produc- 
 tions of the British Muse which were familiar to their 
 predecessors the poems of Milton and Young, of Cow- 
 per and Thomson. These are worthy, not of a hasty 
 perusal only, but of frequent and profound study espe- 
 cially by the young for the varied information which 
 they contain ; for the learning, and taste, and high order 
 of genius which they display, and for the eminent service 
 they are adapted to afford, in the proper culture of the 
 mind and of the heart. The study of such authors, if so 
 far pursued as to secure a fair appreciation of their style, 
 and sentiments, and scientific information, cannot fail to 
 raise the mind above the danger of contaminating and 
 degrading itself with the greatly inferior and the worth- 
 less productions so common at the present day. But 
 such an acquaintance with these authors cannot, except 
 in rare instances, be looked for, without the aid of suit- 
 able commentaries, that shall clear up obscure passages, 
 call attention to what is beautiful or faulty in style or 
 sentiment, and, in short, give to the immature and un- 
 cultivated mind the aid and the incitement which it 
 
4 PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 needs, to enter into the spirit and feel the force of these 
 productions. In our academies and colleges the poets of 
 Greece and Rome are critically studied ; many years of 
 toil are bestowed upon them ; but it is painful to con- 
 sider how little attention, on the other hand, is devoted 
 to the English poets, though some of them are not less 
 deserving than the former of study and admiration. It 
 was the earnest desire and hope of leading teachers to 
 give to the best English poets the same high place in a 
 course of education, and the same attention which is 
 given to the Roman and Grecian, that induced me to 
 prepare a critical commentary on the Paradise Lost, and 
 on Young's Xight Thoughts, and now upon Thomson's 
 Seasons ; and I cannot doubt, that at no distant day a 
 thorough and critical study of such works as these will 
 l)e deemed essential, and will be demanded in all semi- 
 naries above the grade of the primary schools. It is true 
 that even in these the poems alluded to are used exten- 
 sively ; but, in almost all instances, it is for no higher 
 purpose than grammatical parsing. This, indeed, has 
 its benefits, but there are much higher purposes to be 
 attained in the proper study of these authors, which, it is 
 hoped, may be secured by the diligent study of them in 
 connection with the commentaries now before the public. 
 
 Not only in the school-room in the family circle also 
 the productions of these distinguished English poets, 
 explained and illustrated, are much needed. Every 
 family library and every districts chool library should 
 contain a commentary upon Milton, and Young, and 
 Thomson, adapted to the wants of the mass of readers. 
 
 In my editions of these authors, I have endeavored, by 
 the copiousness and elementary character of many of the 
 notes, to make the study of them an introduction and 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 5 
 
 preparation for the general reading of poetry to advan- 
 tage an object of no small importance in the view of 
 any one who duly regards a.nd seeks to promote the re- 
 finement of taste, the proper culture of the imagination, 
 and intellectual strength. 
 
 Bishop Newton first rendered to the cause of literature 
 and to the general reader, a most important service, by 
 selecting from the papers of Addison, in the Spectator, 
 the criticisms which they contained upon the Paradise 
 Lost, and by distributing them in the form of notes to the 
 various parts of the poem to which they related, that they 
 might conveniently be read in connection with the pas- 
 sage thus illustrated or explained. In the illustration of 
 Thomson, I have adopted the same course, by selecting 
 from the pages of reviews and other works, such valuable 
 criticisms as I have discovered upon "The Seasons," 
 and by distributing them through the poem for the con- 
 venience of the reader : so that the notes will be found 
 to embrace a tolerably extensive Cyclopedia of erudite 
 and tasteful criticism, in reference to this poem, from the 
 pens of some of the most distinguished critics of the pres- 
 ent century no small advantage surely to all who have 
 not access to these original sources, or if they had, have 
 not the time or industry to look them up, as they might 
 be found useful for the better appreciation of the succes- 
 sive portions of the work. 
 
 For the convenience of the reader, when taking up the 
 poem for desultory or occasional perusal, the principal 
 topics have l>een designated in a conspicuous manner, so 
 that a selection may be made without difficulty or delay. 
 
 That " The Seasons" eminently deserves the labor of 
 criticism and of full illustration, will appear, on consid- 
 ering the vast amount of interesting information of all 
 
6 PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 kinds that is embodied in it ; more especially in regard 
 to natural objects, phenomena, and events. While it is 
 not devoid of sentiment, genial and refined, its more 
 \ striking characteristic is the large extent and compass 
 of knowledge which it displays. I have looked upon it 
 as pre-eminently valuable, from the fulness and 'beauty 
 of its teachings in all the prominent departments of 
 Natural History, and have thought, that, by a some- 
 what ample explanation of those subjects in the notes, a 
 taste may be formed, or matured, in this interesting 
 branch of study, and a foundation laid for prosecuting it 
 with happy success. The desire is strongly felt, more- 
 over, to encourage and aid the formation of the Tidbit, 
 so seldom formed, and yet so valuable, of connecting with 
 the study of Nature the study of its great Author : nor 
 can it be doubted that if the youthful mind were trained 
 to take delight in the beauties, sublimities, and ever- 
 varying changes of the physical world, and to connect 
 with its observation of these an habitual recognition of 
 the infinitely wise and beneficent Creator, there would 
 be furnished an unfailing source of profitable entertain- 
 ment and delight that would strongly tend to raise the 
 mind above the danger of vicious associations and the 
 pursuit of vicious practices. 
 
 In the language of one of Thomson's eloquent coun- 
 trymen, it may be added, that " our moral being owes 
 deep obligation to all who assist us to study Mature 
 aright ; for, believe us, it is high and rare knowledge to 
 know and to have the true and full use of our eyes. 
 Millions go to the grave in old age without ever having 
 learned it : they were just beginning, perhaps, to ac- 
 quire it, when they sighed to think that ' they who look 
 out of the windows were darkened,' and that, while they 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 7 
 
 had been instructed how to look, sad shadows had fallen 
 on .the whole face of nature, and that the time for those 
 intuitions was gone forever. But the science of seeing 
 has now found favor in our eyes ; and ' blessings are 
 with them, and eternal praise,' who can discover, dis- 
 cern, and describe the least as the greatest of nature's 
 works ; who can see as distinctly the finger of God in 
 the lustre of the little humming-bird murmuring round 
 a rose-bush, as in that of ' the star of Jove, so beautiful 
 and large,' shining sole in heaven." 
 
 As Natural History, when properly taught, is a history 
 of the works of the Creator, and thus of the glorious at- 
 tributes concerned in their production ; as these works 
 embrace a boundless variety and magnificence, the prop- 
 er study and observation of them must tend to ennoble and 
 exalt the mind, and to improve one's character, and to 
 lead us into the angelic pleasure of communion with the 
 Great Author of all good of all that is beautiful, grand, 
 harmonious, and admirable in creation ; for they 
 
 " Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself 
 Hold converse, grow familiar day by day 
 With his conceptions, act upon his plan, 
 And form to his the relish of their souls." 
 
 In the study of nature, the aid of modern science 
 must be diligently employed, to obtain any thing like a 
 full view of her wonderful adaptations, and tendencies, 
 and arrangements a full view of the astonishing dis- 
 plays of the wisdom, and power, and goodness of the 
 Creator ; and hence, for the uneducated reader, various 
 scientific explanations of natural objects, phenomena, 
 and operations have been furnished in the notes to this 
 edition. But it would be difficult to find a more perti 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 nent and agreeable illustration of the great advantage 
 that may be derived, in youth, from the study of Thorn- 
 sorts Seasons, than Caroline Bowles (afterwards Mrs. 
 Southey) has furnished, in the charming autobiography 
 of her childhood, entitled " The Birth-Day." 
 
 " And was it chance, or thy prevailing taste, 
 Beloved instructress I that selected first 
 (Part of my daily task) a portion short, 
 Cull'd from thy ' Seasons,' Thomson ? Happy choice, 
 Howe'er directed, happy choice for me ; 
 For, as I read, new thoughts, new images 
 Thrill'd through my heart, with undefined delight, 
 Awakening so the incipient elements 
 Of tastes and sympathies, that with my life 
 Have grown and strengthened : often on its course, 
 Yes on its darkest moments, shedding soft 
 That rich, warm glow they only can impart ; 
 A sensibility to Nature's charms 
 That seems its living spirit to infuse 
 (A breathing soul) in things inanimate ; 
 To hold communion with the stirring air, 
 The breath of flowers, the ever-shifting clouds, 
 The rustling leaves, the music of the stream ; 
 To people solitude with airy shapes, 
 And the dark hour, when night and silence reigns, 
 With immaterial forms of other worlds ; 
 But, best and noblest privilege ! to feel 
 Pervading Nature's all-harmonious whole, 
 The great Creator's presence in his works." 
 
 In his beautiful volume, entitled " The Wanderings 
 of a Pilgrim," Dr. George B. Cheever offers some ob- 
 servations of his own, and quotes some from the pages 
 of John Foster, that seem highly appropriate to be in- 
 troduced, in fuller illustration of the subject now in 
 hand. He remarks : " We do not con men's features 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. V 
 
 alone when we meet them : we learn their habits, 
 thoughts, feelings ; we speak to their souls. And Na- 
 ture hath a soul as well as features. But a man's own 
 soul must be awakened within him, and not his pleas- 
 ure-loving faculties and propensities merely, if he would 
 enter into communion with the soul that is in nature. 
 Otherwise, it is as with a vacant stare that he sees 
 mountains, forests, bright skies, and sounding cataracts 
 pass before him ; otherwise, it is like a sleep-walker that 
 he himself wanders among them. What is not in him- 
 self he finds not in nature ; and as all study is but a 
 discipline to call forth our immortal faculties, no good 
 will it do the man to range through nature as a study, if 
 his inward being be asleep, if his mind be world-rusted 
 and insensible. 
 
 ' It were a vain endeavor 
 
 Though I should gaze forever 
 On that green light that lingers in the west ; 
 , I may not hope from outward forms to win 
 
 The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.' 
 
 And hence the extreme and melancholy beauty of that 
 passage in John Foster's writings, where he speaks of 
 the power of external nature as an agent in our educa- 
 tion, and laments the inward deficiency in many minds, 
 which prevents our ; foster-mother' from being able to 
 instil into them her sweetest, most exquisite tones and 
 lessons. ' It might be supposed,' he says, ' that the 
 scenes of nature, an amazing assemblage of phenomena, 
 if their effect were not lost through familiarity, would 
 have a powerful influence on all opening minds, and 
 transfer into the internal economy of ideas and senti- 
 ment something of a character and a color correspondent 
 
 1* 
 
10 PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 to the beauty, vicissitude, and grandeur which continu- 
 ally press on the senses. On minds of genius they often 
 have this effect ; and Beattie's Minstrel may be as just 
 as it is a fascinating description of the feelings of such a 
 mind. But on the greatest number this influence oper- 
 ates feebly ; you will not see the process in children, nor 
 the result in mature persons. The charms of nature are 
 objects only of sight and hearing, not of sensibility and 
 imagination. And even the sight and hearing do not 
 receive impressions sufficiently distinct and forcible for 
 clear recollection ; it is not, therefore, strange that "these 
 impressions seldom go so much deeper than the senses 
 as to awaken pensiveness or enthusiasm, and fill the 
 mind with an interior permanent scenery of beautiful 
 images at its own command. This defect of fancy and 
 sensibility is unfortunate amid a creation infinitely rich 
 with grand and beautiful objects, which, imparting some 
 thing more than images to a mind adapted and habitua- 
 ted to converse with nature, inspire an exquisite senti- 
 ment, that seems like the emanation of a spirit residing 
 in them. It is unfortunate, I have thought within these 
 few minutes, while looking out on one of the most enchant- 
 ing nights of the most interesting season of the year, and 
 hearing the voices of a company of persons, to whom I 
 can perceive that this soft and solemn shade over the 
 earth, the calm sky, the beautiful stripes of cloud, the 
 stars, and the waning moon just risen, are all blank and 
 indifferent.' " 
 
 j Besides the Natural History, most beautifully and 
 tooetically treated in this Poem throughout, and its adap- 
 tation, from this source, to produce ennobling thoughts 
 /of the Creator, and to lead us to the sublime habit of 
 - religious communion with him through the medium of 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 11 
 
 his varied works, there are many other aspects of this I 
 noble production that commend it to our careful study, 
 and which will be exhibited in the account that is given 
 in the following pages of the general structure of the 
 Poem, from the skilful pen of Dr. Aikin. To an Essay 
 of this distinguished scholar and critic, on Thomson's 
 Seasons, I have also been indebted for most of the valu- 
 able "Kemarks" that are placed before each of the 
 " Seasons." 
 
 It deserves special notice that the Poem abounds in{ 
 brief but admirable sketches of a large number of the 
 most distinguished men of ancient and modern times 
 philosophers, statesmen, poets, warriors, and kings : 
 these sketches are rendered more complete and instruc- 
 tive by the supplementary matter furnished in the Notes 
 of the present edition. 
 
 The "Critical Observations" illustrative of the genius 
 and character of the poet, and which have been carefully 
 gathered from the writings of men of a highly cultivated 
 taste, constitute another feature of this edition which 
 will commend it to the intelligent reader, and prepare 
 him for a more eager and advantageous perusal of this 
 great and noble Poem. 
 
 Some disappointment, possibly, may be felt, on ob- 
 serving that no professed memoir of the amiable poet 
 is here provided ; but in place of it, I have judged it 
 best, as his life is somewhat barren of incident, to scat- 
 ter about in the notes such particulars relating to his 
 character and history as were deemed sufficiently inter- 
 esting ; and have thus accomplished the double purpose 
 of exhibiting the poet, and of illustrating at the same 
 time several passages in his Poem. Indeed (as Dr. Mur- 
 dock remarks), " as for his more distinguishing qualities 
 
12 PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 of mind and heart, they are better represented in his 
 writings than they can be by the pen of any biogra- 
 pher. There, his love of mankind, of his country and 
 friends, his devotion to the Supreme Being, founded on 
 the most elevated and just conceptions of his operations 
 and providence, shine out in every page. He took no 
 part in the poetical squabbles which happened in his 
 time, and was respected and left, undisturbed by both 
 sides. He would even refuse to take 'offence when he 
 justly might, by interrupting any personal story that 
 was brought to him, with some jest, or some humorous 
 apology for the offender. Nor was he ever seen ruffled 
 or discomposed, but when he read or heard of some fla- 
 grant instance of injustice, oppression, or cruelty: then, 
 indeed, the strongest marks of horror and indignation 
 were visible in his countenance. These amiable vir- 
 tues, this divine temper of mind, did not fail of their 
 reward. His friends loved him with an enthusiastic ar- 
 dor, and lamented his untimely fate : the best and 
 greatest men of his time honored him with their friend- 
 ship and protection." 
 
 Among these, the Hon. George Lyttleton expressed 
 his high regard for Thomson in the Prologue which he 
 wrote for the poet's posthumous tragedy of " Coriolamis," 
 in 1749, soon after the author's decease; and which was 
 most feelingly delivered by Mr. Quin, another personal 
 friend of Thomson's. The following lines form a part 
 of the Prologue : 
 
 " I come not here your candor to implore 
 For scenes, whose author is, alas ! no more ; 
 He wants no advocate his cause to plead ; 
 You will yourselves be patrons of the dead. 
 No party his benevolence confined, 
 No sect ; alike it flowed to all mankind. 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 13 
 
 He loved his friends forgive the gushing tear 
 
 Alas ! I feel I am no actor here. 
 
 He loved his friends with such a warmth of heart, 
 
 So clear of interest, so devoid of art, 
 
 Such generous friendship, such unshaken zeal, 
 
 No words can speak it, but our tears can tell. 
 
 Oh candid truth, oh faith without a stain 
 
 Oh manners gently firm, and nobly plain 
 
 Oh sympathizing love of others' bliss, 
 
 Where will you find another breast like his ? 
 
 Such was the Man the Poet well you know, 
 
 Oft has he touched your hearts with tender woe : 
 
 Oft in this crowded house, with just applause, 
 
 You heard him teach fair Virtue's purest laws ; 
 
 For his chaste Muse employed her heaven-taught lyre 
 
 None but the noblest passions to inspire 
 
 Not one immoral, one corrupted thought 
 
 One line, which dying he could wish to blot." 
 
 At the request of Lord Buchan, Eobert Burns, the 
 Bweet poet of Scotland, prepared the following stanzas 
 in memory of Thomson. The author seems to have felt 
 that they are not equal to the subject he would honor, 
 as he accompanied them with the following statements : 
 " Your Lordship hints at an Ode for the occasion ; but 
 who would write after Collins ? I read over his verses 
 to the memory of Thomson, and despaired. I attempted 
 three or four stanzas in the way of Address to the Shade 
 of the Bard, on crowning his bust. I trouble your 
 Lordship with the inclosed copy of them, which I am 
 afraid will be but too convincing a proof how unequal 
 I am to the task you w^ould obligingly assign me." 
 
 While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, 
 
 Unfolds her tender mantle green, 
 Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 
 
 Or tunes the ^Eolian strains between \ 
 
14: PLAN A1STD DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 While Summer with a matron grace 
 
 Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, 
 Yet oft delighted stops to trace 
 
 The progress of the spiky blade ; 
 
 "While Autumn, benefactor kind, 
 
 By Tweed erects her aged head, 
 And sees, with self-approving mind, 
 
 Each creature on her bounty fed ; 
 
 "While maniac Winter rages o'er 
 
 The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, 
 Rousing the turbid torrent's roar, 
 
 Or sweeping wild a waste of snows ; 
 
 So long, sweet poet of the Year,' 
 Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won, 
 
 While Scotia with exulting tear 
 
 Proclaims that Thomson was her son. 
 
 The beautiful Ode of Collins, to which Burns so mod- 
 estly alludes above, acquires additional interest from 
 what Dr. Murdock states of its author that he had 
 lived some time at Richmond, but forsook it when Mr. 
 Thomson died. This event occurred, at Kew Lane, near 
 Richmond, on the 27th day of August, 1748. The poet's 
 remains were interred in Richmond Church, under a 
 plain stone, without an inscription ; but in 1792 Lord 
 Buchan placed a small brass tablet in that church, bear- 
 ing a suitable inscription, and beneath it this beautiful 
 extract from the " Winter :" 
 
 "Father of Light and Life ! Thou Good Supreme ! 
 teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself! 
 Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
 From every low pursuit ! and feed my soul 
 With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; 
 Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss !" 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 15 
 
 Having already stated the design and nature of my 
 editorial labors, I commend the work to a discerning but 
 candid public, in the hope that it may lend to multi- 
 tudes essential and needful aid ; enabling them to derive 
 from the reading of the Poem far greater advantage and 
 satisfaction than it could afford them without the anno- 
 tations which now accompany it believing, as I do, 
 what one of his biographers has so well expressed, that 
 Thomson's labors, secure from the revolutions of taste 
 or time, are destined to descend with undiminished ad- 
 miration to the latest posterity ; and that it may with 
 confidence be predicted, that future generations, like the 
 last and the present, will have their reverence for the 
 God of Nature excited, and their earliest attachment to 
 Nature herself strengthened, by the poet who has sung 
 her in all her seasons. 
 
 J. K. B. 
 
 GENEVA, N. Y. 
 
16 PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 ODE ON THE DEATH OF THOMSON. 
 
 BY COLLINS. 
 The Scene on the Bank of tlie Thames near Richmond. 
 
 IN yonder grave a Druid* lies, 
 
 Where slowly winds the stealing wave ; 
 The Year's best sweeis shall duteous rise 
 
 To deck its Poet's sylvan grave. 
 
 In yon deep bed of whispering reeds 
 
 His airy harpf shall now be laid, 
 That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds, 
 
 May love through life the soothing shade. 
 
 Then maids and youths shall linger here, 
 
 And while its sounds at distance swell, 
 Shall sadly seem in pity's ear 
 
 To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. 
 
 Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 
 
 "Where Thames in summer wreaths is drest, 
 
 And oft suspend the dashing oar, 
 To bid his gentle spirit rest ! 
 
 And oft, as care and health retire 
 
 To breezy lawn or forest deep, 
 The friend shall view yon whitening spire, \ 
 
 And mid the varied landscape weep. 
 
 * DruicL This name properly belongs only to the priests of ancient Britain, many 
 of whom were poets. They frequented forests those of oak especially where they 
 offered sacrifice, and gave instruction to the people. The name is here applied to 
 Thomson, as a native poet a frequenter of rural scenery, and a worshipper there of 
 the God of Nature. 
 
 Cowper, in his Table-Talk, has a few lines illustrative of the term now explained : 
 
 " Hence British poets too the priesthood shved, 
 And every hallowed Druid was a bard. 1 ' 
 
 t The ^Eolian harp. 
 
 $ Tlmt of Richmond Church, where Thomson was buried. 
 
PLAN AND DESIGN OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 But tliou who own'st that earthy bed, 
 Ah ! what will every dirge avail ; 
 
 Or tears, which love and pity shed, 
 That mourn beneath the gliding 
 
 Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye 
 
 Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near il 
 
 With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die, 
 And joy desert the blooming Year. 
 
 But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide 
 No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, 
 
 Now waft me from the green hill's side, 
 Whose cold turf hides the buried friend I 
 
 And see, the fairy valleys fade, 
 
 Dun night has veiled the solemn view : 
 
 Yet once again, dear parted shade, 
 Meek Nature's child, again adieu ! 
 
 The genial meads, assign'd to bless 
 Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom ; 
 
 Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress 
 With simple hands thy rural tomb. 
 
 Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay 
 Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes : 
 
 Oh ! vales and wild-woods, shall he say, 
 In yonder grave your Druid lies I 
 

 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THOMSON, 
 
 CHIEFLY AS DISPLAYED IN "THE SEASONS." 
 
 THE following observations are drawn from an anony- 
 mous Memoir of the poet : 
 
 In the whole range of British poetry, Thomson's " Seasons' ' 
 are perhaps the earliest read, and most generally admired : hence 
 it is not necessary to say much on the peculiar character of a 
 genius so well known and so often discussed. He was the Poet 
 of Nature, and his chief merit consisted in describing her, and 
 the pleasure afforded by a contemplation of her infinite and glo- 
 rious varieties. Studying her deeply, his mind acquired that 
 placidity of thought and feeling which an abstraction from pub- 
 lic life is sure to generate. hejv3S-~to~4Hm, as he has himself 
 said, a source of happiness of which Fortune could not deprive 
 him : 
 
 " I care not, Fortune, what you me deny; 
 You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace ; 
 You cannot shut the windows of the sky, 
 Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; 
 You cannot bar my constant feet to trace 
 The woods and lawns, by living stream at eve : 
 Let health my nerves and finer fibres leave, 
 Of fancy, reason, virtue, naught can me bereave." 
 
 His^pictures of scenery and of rural life are the productions 
 of a master, and render him the Claude of poets. The " Sea- 
 sons" are the first book from which we are taught to worship the 
 
20 CRiTiCAi, 
 
 goddess to vho3o bei rice die Bard of Ednam devoted himself; 
 and who is there that has reflected on the magnificence of an 
 extended landscape, viewed the sun as he emerges from the hori- 
 zon, or witnessed the setting of that glorious orb when he leaves 
 j the world to reflection and repose, and does not feel his descrip- 
 ; tions rush upon the mind, and heighten his enjoyment? 
 
 It has been said that the style of that work is pompous, and 
 
 that it contains many faults. The remark is partially true. His 
 
 style is in some places monotonous from its unvaried elevation ; 
 
 but to him Nature was a subject of the profoundest reverence, 
 
 . and he, doubtless, considered that she ought to be spoken of 
 
 f with solemnity ; though it is evident, from one of his verses, 
 
 which is often cited, that he was aware that simplicity is the 
 
 most becoming garb of majesty and beauty. 
 
 Another objection to the " Seasons" is, that they contain fre- 
 quent digressions, and, notwithstanding that it is made by an 
 authority, from which it may be presumptuous to dissent, the 
 justice of the observation cannot, perhaps, be established. Every 
 one who has read them will admit that the history of Celadon 
 and Amelia, and of Lavinia, for example, have afforded as much 
 pleasure as any other parts ; and a poem, descriptive of scenery, 
 (storms, and sunshine, requires the introduction of human beings 
 to give it life and animation. A painter is not censured for add- 
 ing figures to a landscape, and he is only required to render 
 them graceful, and to make them harmonize with his subject. 
 The characters in the " Seasons" are all in keeping : a gleaner 
 is as necessary to a harvest-field, as a lover to a romance ; and 
 it seems hypercritical to say that there should be nothing of in- 
 terest in the lives of the inhabitants of the villages or hamlets 
 which are alluded to. Another test of the soundness of this 
 criticism is, to inquire, whether that work does not owe its chief 
 popularity to those very digressions. Few persons will read a 
 volume, however beautiful the descriptions which it contains, 
 unless they are relieved by incidents of human life ; and if it 
 were possible to strip the " Seasons" of every passage not strict- 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 21 
 
 Iy relevant, they would lose their chief attractions, and soon be 
 thrown aside. 
 
 One charm of poetry is, that it often presents a vivid picture 
 of the idiosyncrasy of an author's mind, and this is most con- 
 spicuous in the episodes to the immediate subject of his labors. 
 The chain of thought which led him astray may not unfrequently 
 be discovered, and it is on such occasions, chiefly, that those 
 splendid emanations which become aphorisms to future ages are 
 produced. Genius seems then to cast aside all the fetters which 
 art imposes, and individual feeling, usurping for the moment 
 entire dominion, the lady who has cheered his hopes, or the co- 
 quette who has abandoned him, his friend or his enemy, as either 
 may occur to his imagination, is sure to be commemorated in 
 words glowing with the fervor of inspiration. Whilst he pur- 
 sues the thread of his tale, we are reminded of the poet alone, 
 and though we may admire his skill, it is only when he breaks 
 upon us in some spontaneous burst of passion that we sympa- 
 thize with the man, and are excited to kindred enthusiasm. 
 
 The opinions of Dr. Samuel Johnson are next sub- 
 mitted : 
 
 As a writer, Thomson is entitled to one praise of the highest 
 kind : his mode of thinking, and of expressing his thoughts, is 
 original. His blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton, 
 
 O ' 
 
 nor of any other poet, than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes 
 of Co \vley. His numbers, his pauses, his diction are of his own 
 growth, without transcription, without imitation. He thinks in 
 a peculiar train, and he always thinks as a man of genius. He 
 looks round on nature and on life with the eye which nature 
 bestows only on a poet the eye that distinguishes, in every 
 thing presented to its view, whatever there is on which im- 
 agination can delight to be detained, and with a mind that at 
 once comprehends the vast, and attends to the minute. The 
 reader of the " Seasons" wonders that he never saw before what 
 
22 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Thomson shows him, and that he never yet has felt what Thom- 
 son impresses. 
 
 His is one of the works in which blank verse seems properly 
 used. Thomson's wide expansion of general views, and his enu- 
 meration of circumstantial varieties, would have been obstructed 
 and embarrassed by the frequent intersection of the sense, which 
 is the necessary effect of rhyme. 
 
 His descriptions of extended scenes and general effects bring 
 before us the whole magnificence of nature, whether pleasing or 
 dreadful. The gajetyjrf Spring the splendor of Summer, the 
 tranquillity of Autumn, and the horror of Winter, take, in their 
 turns, possession of the mind. The poet leads us through the 
 appearances of things as they are successively varied by the vi- 
 cissitudes of the year, and imparts to us so much of his own 
 enthusiasm, that our thoughts expand with his imagery and 
 kindle with his sentiments. Nor is the naturalist without his 
 part in the entertainment ; for he is assisted to re-collect and to 
 combine, to range his discoveries, and to amplify the sphere of 
 his contemplation. 
 
 The great defect of the " Seasons" is want of method ; but 
 for this I know not that there was any remedy. Of many ap- 
 pearances subsisting all at once, no rule can be given why one 
 should be mentioned before another ; yet the memory wants the 
 help of order, and curiosity is not excited by suspense or expec- 
 tation. 
 
 | His diction is in the highest degree jjorid and luxuriant, such 
 as may be said to be to his images and thoughts, " both their 
 jlustre and their shade ;" such as invest them with splendor, 
 through which, perhaps, they are not always easily discerned. 
 It is too exuberant, and sometimes may be charged with filling 
 the ear more than the mind. 
 
 The highest praise which he has received ought not to be 
 suppressed. It is said by Lord Lyttleton, in the Prologue to his 
 posthumous play, that his works contained 
 
 " Ko line which, dying, he could wish to blot." 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 23 
 
 Allan Cunningham, a neighbor of Robert Burns, a 
 vigorous prose writer, a composer of Scottish verses, and 
 /an editor of several poetical works, has furnished in his 
 excellent biography of Thomson, the following estimate 
 of his characteristics as a poet, and of the " Seasons" as 
 one of his best productions : 
 
 Thomson is an original poet of the first order ; and what v is 
 not always true of originality, one of the most popular in our 
 literature. In loftiness of thought, and poetic glow of lan- 
 guage, few have reached him : the march of his Muse is in mid- 
 air ; she rarely alights, but moves on, continuous and sustained : 
 and in this constant elevation he resembles Spenser more than 
 any other poet ; in sweetness of fancy, in gentleness of soul, and 
 in the natural love of the beautiful and good, the same resem- 
 blance may be found. 
 
 Though a scholar, and familiar with all the resources of an- 
 cient lore, he rarely allowed learning to get the better of nature : 
 he preferred, he said, finding his poetry in the great volume 
 which Heaven had opened in earth, and air, and sky, to seeking 
 it, with the eyes of others, in the pages of a book ; and con- 
 fessed that he found it more laborious to imitate the beauties of 
 his brethren in song, than to see them in nature, and draw them 
 for himself. His heart was full of the true spirit of poetry, and 
 his speech was song ; his verse is now and then colored, as one 
 flower is by the neighborhood of another, with the hue of classic 
 thought ; but he saw all by the charmed light of his own im- 
 agination, .and purified his taste rather by contemplating the 
 sublime sculptures of Greece and the scriptural pictures of Italy, 
 than by the numbers of Homer, or the graces of Virgil. 
 
 The origin of his " Seasons" has been sought for, but not 
 found, in the vast body of ancient and modern verse. Other 
 poets have loved the shade of the groves ; the odor of the 
 flowers, the song of the birds, the melody of streams, the fra- 
 
24: CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 grance of fruit-trees and green fields, the warmth of the sun, the 
 splendor of the moon and stars ; but no poet, save the inspired 
 /one who wrote the eighth Psalm, attempted, like Thomson, to raise 
 I the beauties of nature out of the low regions of sensual delight, 
 I and make them objects of moral grandeur and spiritual contempla- 
 tion. Thomson perceived order, unity, and high meaning in the 
 loveliest as well as the loftiest things : he loved to observe the 
 connection of the animate with the inanimate ; the speechless 
 with the eloquent ; and all with. God. He saw testimony of 
 heavenly intelligence in the swelling sea, the dropping cloud, 
 and the rolling thunder ; in earthquake and eclipse; as well as 
 in the presence of Spring on the fields, of Summer on the flow- 
 ers, of Autumn in her golden harvest, and of Winter in her frosty 
 breath and her purifying tempests. 
 
 As the seasons are in nature, so he sung them, and in their 
 proper order. The poet seems not to have erred (in regard to 
 method), as the critic (Dr. Johnson) imagines : he has truly ob- 
 served the great order of the seasons, and followed the footsteps 
 of Nature, without ascribing to one period of the year what be- 
 longs to another ; while he has regarded storms and tempests, 
 earthquakes and plagues, as common to all seasons, and fin-- 
 ployed them accordingly. His language has been called, by 
 high authorities, swelling and redundant ; but Thomson, with 
 other great poets, held that a certain pomp and measured march 
 of words was necessary to elevate verse which sung of the hum- 
 ble toils of the shepherd, the husbandman, and the mechanic ; 
 and though Campbell prefers the idiomatic simplicity of Cowper, 
 and Coleridge his chastity of diction, to the unvaried pomp of 
 Thomson, yet both confess their preference of the latter, as a 
 lofty and born poet. I believe this conclusion will be that of all 
 who can feel the power, the glow, and the upward flame-like 
 spirit of his poetry. 
 
CEITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 25 
 
 From Chambers' Cyclopedia of English Literature the 
 succeeding a'ccount of Thomson is selected : 
 
 The publication of the " Seasons" was an important era in 
 the history of English poetry. So true and beautiful are the 
 descriptions in the poem, and so entirely do they harmonize with 
 those fresh feelings and glowing impulses which all would wish 
 to cherish, that a love of Nature seems to be synonymous with 
 a love of Thomson. It is difficult to conceive a person of edu- 
 cation, imbued with an admiration of rural or woodland scenery, 
 not entertaining a strong affection and regard for that delightful 
 poet, who has painted their charms with so much fidelity and 
 enthusiasm. The same features of blandness and benevolence, 
 of simplicity of design, and beauty of form and color, which we 
 recognize as distinguishing traits of the natural landscape, are 
 seen in the pages of Thomson, conveyed by his artless mind as 
 faithfully as the lights and shades on the face of creation. No 
 criticism or change of style has, therefore, affected his popular- 
 ity. We may. smile at sometimes meeting with a heavy monot- 
 onous period, a false ornament, or tumid expression, the result 
 of an indolent mind working itself up to a great effort, and we 
 may wish the subjects of his description were sometimes more 
 select and dignified ; but this dra\^fek does not affect our per- 
 manent regard or general feeling : our first love remains unal- 
 tered, and Thomson is still the poet with whom some of our best 
 and purest associations are indissolubly joined. In the " Sea- 
 sons" we have a poetical subject poetically treated filled to 
 overflowing with the richest materials of poetry, and the ema- 
 nations of benevolence. In the "Castle of Indolence" we have 
 the concentration or essence of those materials applied to a sub- 
 ject less poetical, but still affording room for luxuriant fancy, 
 the most exquisite art, and still greater melody of number;*. 
 
 The power of Thomson, however, lay not in his art, but in 
 the exuberance of his genius, which sometimes required to be 
 disciplined and controlled. The poetic glow is spread over all. 
 
 2 
 
26 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 He never slackens in his enthusiasm, nor tires of pointing out 
 the phenomena of nature, which, indolent as he was, he had 
 surveyed under every aspect till he had become familiar with 
 all. Among the mountains, vales, and forests, he seems to 
 realize his own words- 
 Man superior walks 
 
 Amid the glad creation, musing praise, 
 
 And looking lively gratitude. 
 
 But he looks also, as Johnson has finely observed, " with the 
 eye which nature bestows only on a poet the eye that distin- 
 guishes, in every thing presented to its view, whatever there is 
 on which imagination can delight to be detained, and with a 
 mind that at once comprehends the vast, and attends to the 
 minute." He looks also with a heart that feels for all man- 
 -kiiid.. His sympathies are universal. His touching allusions 
 to the condition of tHe poor and suffering, to the helpless state 
 of bird and beast in winter ; the description of the peasant per- 
 ishing in the snow, the Siberian exile, or the Arab pilgrims all 
 are marked with that humanity and true feeling which shows 
 that the poet's virtues "formed the magic of his song." 
 
 The ardor and fulness of Thomson's descriptions distinguish 
 them from those of Cowper, who was naturally less enthusias- 
 tic, and who was restricted by his religious tenets, and by his 
 critical and classically formed taste. The diction of the " Sea- 
 sons" is at times pure and musical ; it is too elevated and am- 
 bitious, however, for ordinary themes ; and where the poet de- 
 scends to minute description, or to humorous or satirical scenes 
 (as in the account of the chase and fox-hunter's dinner in 
 " Autumn"), the effect is grotesque and absurd.' Mr. Campbell 
 has happily said that, " as long as Thomson dwells in the pure 
 contemplation of nature, and appeals to the universal poetry of 
 the human breast, his redundant style comes to us as something 
 venial and adventitious it is the flowing vesture of the Druid ; 
 and perhaps, to the general experience, is rather imposing ; but 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 27 
 
 when he returns to the familiar narratives or courtesies of life, 
 the same diction ceases to seem the mantle of inspiration, and 
 only strikes us by its unwieldy difference from the common cos- 
 tume of expression." Cowper avoided this want of keeping 
 between his style and his subjects, adapting one to the other 
 with inimitable ease, grace, and variety ; yet only rising in one 
 or two instances to the higher flights of Thomson. 
 
 To no critic upon Thomson's genius, and upon the 
 " Seasons," have I been more largely indebted than to 
 Prof. Wilson (lately the distinguished occupant of the 
 chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edin 
 burgh), as will be discovered on reading the notes to this 
 edition. Besides the admirable criticisms from his pen 
 which are there introduced, the following paragraphs 
 will be read with interest and gratification : 
 
 Thomson's genius does not very, very often though often 
 delight us by exquisite minute touches in the description of na- 
 ture like that of Cowper. It loves to paint on a great scale 
 and to dash objects off sweepingly by bold strokes such, in- 
 deed, as have almost always marked the genius of the mighty ' 
 masters of the lyre, and the rainbow! Cowper sets nature be- 
 fore your eyes Thomson before your imagination. Which do , 
 you^ prefer? Both. Be assured these poets had pored night 
 and day upon nature, in all her aspects, and that she had re- 
 vealed herself equally to both. But they, in their religion, de- 
 lighted in different modes of worship and both were worthy 
 of the mighty mother. In one mood of mind we love Cowper 
 best; in another, Thomson. Sometimes the "Seasons" are al- 
 most a "Task".-! and sometimes the Task is out of season. 
 There is a delightful distinctness in all the pictures of the Bard 
 
28 CRITICAJ, OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 of Olney ; glories gloom or glimmer in most of tliose of the 
 Bard of Ednam. Cowper paints trees ; Thomson, woods. 
 Thomson paints, in a few wondrous lines, rivers from source to 
 sea, like the mighty Burrampooter ; Cowper, in many no very 
 wondrous lines, brightens up one bend of a stream, or awa- 
 kens our fancy to the murmur of some single waterfall. 
 
 To what era, pray, did Thomson belong ; and to what era, 
 Cowper? To none. Thomson had no precursor and, till 
 7 Cowper, no follower. He effulged all at once, sun-like like 
 Scotland's storm-loving, mist-enamored sun, which, till you 
 have seen on a day of thunder, you cannot be said ever to 
 have seen the sun. Cowper followed Thomson merely in 
 time. We should have had the " Task," even had we never 
 had the " Seasons." These two were " heralds of a mighty 
 train issuing ;" add them, then, to the worthies of our own 
 age, and they belong to it, and all the rest of the poetry of 
 the modern world to which add that of the ancient if mul- 
 tiplied by ten in quantity and by twenty in quality would not 
 so variously, so vigorously, so magnificently, so beautifully, and 
 so truly image the form and pressure, the life and spirit of 
 the mother of us all Nature. Are, then, the " Seasons" and 
 the "Task" great poems? Yes. Why? We presume you 
 need not be told that that poem must be great, which was the 
 first to paint the rolling mystery of the Year, and to show that 
 all its seasons were but " the varied God." The idea was 
 original and sublime ; and the fulfilment thereof so complete, 
 that some six thousand years having elapsed between the crea- 
 tion of the world and of that poem, some sixty thousand, we 
 prophesy, will elapse between the appearance of that poem 
 and the publication of another equally great, on a subject ex- 
 ternal to the mind, equally magnificent. 
 
 Some of the remarks of William Hazlitt, in his Lee- 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 29 
 
 fcures on the English Poets, will now be added as con- 
 tributing to the completeness of a full and exact por- 
 traiture of- the idiosyncrasies of Thomson's mind, and 
 style as a descriptive poet. 
 
 Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets ; for he gives 
 most of the poetry of natural description. Others have been 
 quite equal to him, or have surpassed him, as Cowper, for in- 
 stance, in the picturesque part of his art, in marking the pe- 
 culiar features and curious details of objects ; no one has yet 
 come up to him in giving the sum- total of their effects, their 
 varying influences on the mind. He does not go into the mi- 
 nutiae of a landscape, but describes the vivid impression which 
 the whole makes upon his own imagination ; and thus transfers 
 the same unbroken, unimpaired impression to the imagination 
 of his readers. The colors with which he paints seem yet 
 breathing, like those of the living statue in the Winter's Tale. 
 Nature, in his descriptions, is seen growing around us, fresh 
 and lusty as in itself. We feel the effect of the atmosphere, 
 its humidity or clearness, its heat or cold, the glow of Summer, 
 the gloom of Winter, the tender promise of the Spring, the 
 full over-shadowing foliage, the declining pomp and deepening 
 tints of Autumn. He transports us to the scorching heat ol 
 vertical suns, or plunges us into the chilling horrors and desola- 
 tion of the frozen zone. We hear the snow drifting against 
 the broken casement without, and see the fire blazing on the 
 hearth within. The first scattered drops of a vernal showei 
 patter on the leaves above our heads, or the coming storm re- 
 sounds through the leafless groves. In a word, he describes 
 not to the eye alone, but to the other senses, and to the whole 
 man. He puts his heart into his subject, writes as he feels, t 
 and humanizes whatever he touches. He makes all his de- 
 scriptions teem with life and vivifying soul. His faults were 
 those of his style of the author and the man ; but the original 
 
30 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 genius of the poet, the pith and marrow of his imagination, 
 the fine natural mould in which his feelings were bedded, were 
 too much for him to counteract by neglect, or affectation, or 
 false ornaments. It is for this reason that he is, perhaps, the 
 most popular of all our poets, treating of a subject that all can 
 understand, and in a way that is interesting to all alike, to the 
 ignorant or the refined, because he gives back the impression 
 which the things themselves make upon us in nature. " That," 
 said a man of genius, seeing a little shabby, soiled copy of 
 Thomson's Seasons lying on the window-seat of an obscure 
 country ale-house " That is true fame !" 
 
THE PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE "SEASONS." 
 
 FOR the discriminating and highly illustrative obser- 
 vations that follow upon this topic, I am indebted to the 
 pen of Dr. Aikin, the accomplished editor of the British 
 Poets ; having extracted them from an Essay which he 
 prepared expressly for an elegant edition of the Poem. 
 It will be seen, also, that most of the Remarks introduc- 
 tory to the several "Seasons" have been drawn from 
 the same Essay. Whoever shall give these contributions 
 from his able pen a careful perusal, will be compensated 
 for the labor by a comprehensive and accurate view, and 
 a deep impression, also, -of what Thomson designed and 
 successfully accomplished in this immortal Poem. 
 
 That Thomson's "Seasons" is the original whence our modern 
 descriptive poets have derived that more elegant and correct style 
 of painting natural objects which distinguishes them from their 
 immediate predecessors, will, I think, appear evident to one who 
 examines their several casts and manners. That none of them, 
 however, have yet equalled their master ; and that his perform- 
 ance is an exquisite piece, replete with beauties of the most en- 
 gaging and delightful kind, will be sensibly felt by all of con- 
 genial taste ; and perhaps no poem was ever composed which 
 

 32 PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE "SEASONS." 
 
 addressed itself to the feelings of a greater number of readers. 
 It is, therefore, on every account, an object well worthy the at- 
 tention of criticism ; and an inquiry into the peculiar nature 
 of its plan, and the manner of its execution, may be an agree- 
 able introduction to a reperusal of it in the elegant edition now 
 offered to the public. 
 
 This was the first capital work in which natural description 
 was professedly the principal object. To paint the face of na- 
 ture as changing through the changing seasons ; to mark the 
 approaches, and trace the progress of these vicissitudes, in a 
 series of landscapes all formed upon images of grandeur or 
 )eauty ; and to give animation and variety to the whole, by 
 nterspersing manners and incidents suitable to the scenery, 
 ippears to be the general design of this poem. 
 
 Although each of the "Seasons" appears to have been in- 
 tended as a complete piece, and contains within itself the nat- 
 ural order of beginning, middle, and termination, yet, as they 
 were at length collected and modelled by their author, they 
 have all a mutual relation to each other, and concur in forming 
 a more comprehensive whole. The annual space in which the 
 earth performs its revolution round the sun is so strongly 
 marked by nature for a perfect period, that all mankind have 
 agreed in forming their computations of time upon it. In all 
 the temperate climates of the globe, the four seasons are so 
 many progressive stages in this circuit, which, like the acts in a 
 well-constructed drama, gradually disclose, ripen, and bring to 
 an end, the various business transacted on the great theatre of 
 Nature. The striking analogy which this period, with its sev- 
 
 o jiZtL _ i f ._ 
 
 eral divisions, bears to the course of human existence, has been 
 remarked and pursued by writers of all ages and countries. 
 Spring has been represented as the youth of the year the sea- 
 son of pleasing hope, lively energy, and rapid increase. Summer 
 has been resembled to perfect manhood the season of steady 
 warmth, confirmed strength, and unremitting vigor. /Autumn, 
 which, while it bestows the rich products of full maturity, is 
 
PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE " SEASONS." 33 
 
 yet ever hastening to decline, has been aptly compared to that 
 period when the man, mellowed by age, yields the most valua- 
 ble fruits of experience and wisdom, but daily exhibits increasing 
 symptoms of decay. The cold, cheerless, and sluggish* Winter 
 has almost without a metaphor been termed the decrepit and] 
 hoary old age of the year. Thus the history of the Year, pur- 
 sued through its changing seasons, is that of an individual, 
 whose existence is marked by a progressive course from its 
 origin to its termination. It is thus represented by our poet. 
 This idea preserves a unity and connection through his whole - 
 work ; and the accurate observer will remark a beautiful chain 
 of c^cumstances in his description, by which the birth, vigor, 
 decline, and extinction of the vital principle of the year, are 
 pictured in the most lively manner. 
 
 This order and gradation of the whole runs, as has been al- 
 ready hinted, through each division of the poem. Every season 
 has its incipient, confirmed, and receding state, of which its his- 
 torian ought to give distinct views, arranged according to the 
 succession in which they appear. Each, too, like the prismatic 
 colors, is indistinguishably blended in its origin and termination 
 with that which precedes and which follows it ; and it may be 
 expected from the pencil of an artist to hit off these mingled 
 shades so as to produce a pleasing and picturesque effect. Our 
 poet has not been inattentive to these circumstances in the con- 
 duct of his plan. His Spring begins with a view of the season 
 as yet unconfirmed, and partaking of the roughness of Winter ; 
 and it is not till after several steps in gradual progression, that 
 it breaks forth in all its ornaments, as the favorite of Love and 
 Pleasure. His Autumn, after a rich prospect of its bounties 
 and splendors, gently fades into " the sere, the yellow leaf/' and 
 with the lengthened night, the clouded sun, and the rising storm,, 
 sinks into the arms of Winter. It is remarkable, that in order 
 to produce something of a similar effect in his Summer, a season 
 which, on account of its uniformity of character, does not admit 
 of any strongly marked gradations, he has comprised the whole 
 
 2* 
 
34: PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE "SEASONS." 
 
 of his description within the limits of a single day, pursuing the 
 course of the sun from its rising to its setting. A summer's 
 day is, in reality, a just model of the entire season. Its begin- 
 ning is moist and temperate ; its middle, sultry and parching ; 
 its close, soft and refreshing. By thus exhibiting all the vicis- 
 situdes of Summer under one point of view, they are rendered 
 much more striking than could have been done in a series of 
 feebly contrasted and scarcely distinguishable periods. 
 
 Every grand and beautiful appearance in nature that distin- 
 guishes one portion of the annual circuit from another, is a proper 
 source of materials for the Poet of the Seasons. Of these, some 
 are obvious to the common observer, and require only justness 
 and elegance of taste for the selection ; others discover them- 
 selves only to the mind opened and enlarged by science and phi- 
 losophy. The most vivid imagination cannot paint to itself 
 scenes of grandeur equal to those which cool science and de- 
 monstration offer to the enlightened mind. Objects so vast and 
 magnificent as planets rolling with even pace through their orbits, 
 comets rushing along their devious track, light springing from 
 its unexhausted source, mighty rivers .formed in their subterra- 
 nean beds, do not require, or even admit, a heightening from the 
 fancy. The most faithful pencil here produces the noblest pic- 
 tures ; and Thomson, by strictly adhering to the character of the 
 Poet of Nature, has treated all these topics with a true sublim- 
 ity, which a writer of less knowledge and accuracy could never 
 have attained. The strict propriety with which subjects from 
 Astronomy and the other parts of Natural Philosophy are in- 
 troduced into a poem describing the changes of the seasons, 
 need not be insisted on, since it is obvious that the primary cause 
 of all these changes is to be sought in principles derived from 
 these sciences. They are the groundwork of the whole ; and 
 establish that connected series of cause and effect, upon which all 
 those appearances in nature depend, from whence the descriptive 
 poet draws his materials. 
 
 The correspondence between certain changes in the animal and 
 
35 
 
 vegetable tribes, and those revolutions of the heavenly bodies 
 which produce the vicissitudes of the seasons, is the foundation 
 of an alliance between Astronomy and Natural History, that 
 equally demands attention, as a matter of curious speculation 
 and of practical utility. The astronomical calendar, filled up by 
 the Naturalist, is a combination of science at the same time preg- 
 nant with important instruction to the husbandman, and fertile 
 in grand and pleasing objects to the poet and philosopher. 
 Thomson seems constantly to have kept in view a combination 
 of this kind ; and to have formed from it such an idea of the 
 economy of Nature, as enabled him to preserve a regularity of 
 method and uniformity of design through all the variety of his 
 descriptions. We shall attempt to draw out a kind of historical 
 narrative of his progress through the seasons, as far as this 
 order is observed. [This portion of the Essay has been distrib- 
 uted to the several Seasons, under the head of Introductory 
 Remarks.] 
 
 But the rural landscape is not solely made up of land and 
 water, and trees, and birds, and beasts ; Man is a distinguished 
 fire in it ; his multiplied occupations and concerns introduce them- 
 selves into every part of it ; he intermixes even in the wildest ; 
 and rudest scenes, and throws a life and interest upen every sur- 
 rounding object. Manners and character, therefore, constitute ti 
 part even of a descriptive poem ; and in a plan so extensive as\ 
 the history of the Year, they must enter under various forms, 
 and upon numerous occasions. 
 
 The most obvious and appropriate use of human figures in 
 pictures of the Seasons, is the introduction of them to assist in 
 marking out the succession of annual changes by their various I 
 labors and amusements. In common with other animals, man is 
 directed in the diversified employment of earning a toilsome sub- 
 sistence by an attention to the vicissitudes of the seasons, and 
 all his diversions in the simpler state of rustic society are also 
 regulated by the same circumstance. Thus a series of moving 
 figures enlivens the landscape, and contributes to stamp on each 
 
36 PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE 
 
 scene its peculiar character. The shepherd, the husbandman, 
 the hunter, appear in their turns ; and may be considered as 
 natural concomitants of that portion of the yearly round which 
 prompts their several occupations. 
 
 But it is not only the bodily pursuits of man which are affect- 
 ed by thcse^changes ; the sensations and affections of his mind 
 are almost equally under their influence ; and the result of the 
 whole, as forming the enamored votary of Nature to a peculiar 
 cast of character and manners, is not less conspicuous. Thus 
 the Poet of the Seasons is at liberty, without deviating from his 
 plan, to descant on the varieties of moral constitution, and the 
 power which external causes are found to possess over the tem- 
 per of the soul. He may draw pictures of the pastoral life in 
 all its genuine simplicity ; and, assuming the tone of a moral 
 instructor, may contrast the peace and felicity of innocent retire- 
 ment with the turbulent agitations of ambition and avarice. 
 
 The various incidents, too, upon which the simple tale of rural 
 events is founded, are very much modelled by the difference of 
 seasons. The catastrophes of Winter differ from those of Sum- 
 mer ; the sports of Spring, from those of Autumn. Thus, little 
 historic pieces and adventures, whether pathetic or amusing, 
 will suggest themselves to the poet ; which, when properly 
 adapted to the scenery and circumstances, may very happily 
 coincide with the main design of the composition. 
 
 The bare enumeration of these several occasions of introducing 
 draughts of human life and manners, will be sufficient to call to 
 
 o 
 
 mind the admirable use which Thomson, throughout his whole 
 poem, has made of them. He, in fact, never appears more truly 
 inspired with his subject than when giving birth to those senti- 
 ments of tenderness and beneficence, which seem to have occu- 
 pied his whole heart. A universal benevolence extending to 
 every pait of the animal creation, maniests itself in almost every 
 scene he draws ; and the rural character, as delineated in his 
 feelings, contains all the softness, purity, and simplicity that are 
 feigned of the golden age. 
 
PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE "SEASONS." 37 
 
 But there is a straj,LQf sentiment of a higher and more di- 
 gressive nature, with which Thomson has occupied a considerable 
 portion of his poem. The fundamental principles oj_MoraLPlii ~ 
 losophy, ideas concerning the origin and progress of government 
 and civilization, historical sketches, and reviews of the characters 
 most famous in ancient and modern history, are interspersed 
 through various parts of the Seasons. The manly, liberal, and 
 enlightened spirit which this writer breathes in all his works, 
 must ever endear him to the friends of truth and virtue ; and, in 
 particular, his genuine patriotism and zeal in the cause of liberty 
 will render his writings always estimable to the British [and 
 American] reader. 
 
 There is another source of sentiment to the Poet of the Sea- 
 sons, which, while it is superior to the last in real elevation, is 
 also strictly connected with the nature of his work. The gen- 
 uine philosopher, while he surveys the grand and beautiful ob- 
 jects everywhere surrounding him, will be prompted to lift his 
 eye to the great Cause of all these wonders, the Planner and 
 Architect of all this mighty fabric, every minute part of which 
 so much awakens his curiosity and admiration. The laws by 
 which this Being acts, the ends which He seems to have pur- 
 sued, must excite his humble researches ; and in proportion as 
 he discovers infinite power in the means, directed by infinite 
 goodness in the intention, his soul must be wrapped in astonish- 
 ment, and expanded with gratitude. The economy of Nature 
 will, to such an observer, be the perfect scheme of an all- wise 
 and beneficent mind ; and every part of the wide creation will 
 appear to proclaim the praise of its great Author. Thus a new 
 connection will manifest itself between the several parts of the 
 universe, and a new order and design will be traced through the 
 progress of its various revolutions. 
 
 Thus is planned and constructed a Poem, which, founded as 
 it is upon the unfading beauties of Nature, will live as long as 
 the language in which it is written shall be read. 
 
IF (^ D Kl 
 
SPRING. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY EEMAERS. 
 
 SPRING is characterized as the season of the renovation of 
 nature ; in which animals and vegetables, excited by the kindly 
 influence of returning warmth, shake off the torpid inaction of 
 Winter, and prepare for the continuance and increase of their 
 several species. The vegetable tribes, as more independent and 
 self-provided, lead the way in this progress. The poet, accord- 
 ingly, begins with representing the reviviscent plants emerging, 
 as soon as genial showers have softened the ground, in numbers 
 " beyond the power of botanists to reckon up their tribes/' The 
 opening blossoms and flowers soon call forth from their winter 
 retreats those industrious insects which derive sustenance from 
 their nectarious juices. As the beams of the sun become more 
 potent, the larger vegetables, shrubs, and trees unfold their 
 leaves ; and, as soon as a friendly concealment is by their means 
 provided for the various nations of the feathered race, they joy- 
 fully begin the course of laborious, but pleasing occupations, 
 which are to engage them during the whole season. The de- 
 lightful series of pictures, so truly expressive of that genial spirit 
 that pervades the spring, which Thomson has formed on the 
 variety of circumstances attending the Passion of the Groves. 
 cannot escape the notice and admiration of the most negligent 
 eye. Affected by the same soft influence, and equally indebted 
 to the renewed vegetable tribes for food and shelter, the several 
 kinds of quadrupeds are represented as concurring in the celebra- 
 tion of this charming season with conjugal and parental rights. 
 
42 SPRING INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 Even Man himself, though from his social condition less under 
 the dominion of physical necessities, is properly described as 
 partaking of the general ardor. Such is the order and connec- 
 tion of this whole book, that it might well pass for a commen- 
 tary upon a most beautiful passage in the philosophical poet, 
 Lucretius (Lib. I. 251262), who certainly wanted nothing but* 
 a better system and more circumscribed subject, to have ap- 
 peared as one of the greatest masters of description in either 
 ancient or modern poetry. 
 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 THE AKGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. The Season is de- 
 scribed as it affects the various parts of Nature, ascending from the lower to the 
 higher; with digressions arising from the subject. Its influence on inanimate Matter, 
 on Vegetables, on brute Animals, and last on Man ; concluding with a dissuasive from 
 the wild and irregular passion of Love, opposed to that of a pure and happy kind. 
 
 COME, gentle SPRING, ethereal Mildness, come ; 
 And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, 
 While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower 
 Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. 
 
 1. Come, &c. : Spring is here poetically addressed as a person, and 
 invited to come forth from a rain-cloud, amidst the music of birds 
 awaking from the long silence of winter, and " veiled in a shower of 
 shadowing roses," because these are among the most beautiful products 
 of the season. She is described also as ethereal Mildness, to indicate 
 her peculiarly gentle character in contrast with the stern rigor of the 
 season that precedes her. 
 
 The exuberance of Fancy displayed in this first paragraph greatly 
 offends the critical taste of Hazlitt, who, with his usual extravagance, 
 remarks, that Thomson " fills up the intervals of true inspiration with 
 the most vapid -and worthless materials, pieces out a beautiful half-line 
 with a bombastic allusion, or overloads an exquisitely natural sentiment 
 or image with a cloud of painted, pompous, cumbrous phrases, like the 
 shower of roses in which he represents the Spring, his own lovely, fresh, 
 and innocent Spring, as descending to the earth." " Who" (he adds), 
 " from such a flimsy, roundabout, unmeaning commencement as tlu's, 
 would expect the delightful, unexaggerated, home-felt descriptions of 
 
** SPKING. 
 
 Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts 
 With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 5 
 
 With innocence and meditation join'd 
 In soft assemblage, listen to my song, 
 
 natural scenery, which are scattered in such unconscious profusion 
 through this and the following cantos ! For instance, the very next 
 passage is crowded with a set of striking images." 
 
 It will be a sufficient offset to the above effusion of Hazlitt concern- 
 ing this introduction to " Spring," to place beside it the observations of 
 Prof. Wilson, the distinguished poet and critic of Scotland. " That pic- 
 ture is indistinctly and obscurely beautiful to the imagination, and there 
 is not a syllable about sex though ' ethereal Mildness] which is an im- 
 personation, and hardly an impersonation, must be, it is felt, a virgin 
 goddess, whom all the divinities that dwell between heaven and earth 
 must love. Never, to our taste, had poem a more beautiful beginning. 
 It is not simple ; nor ought it to be : it is rich, and even gorgeous for 
 the bard came to his subject full of inspiration ; and as it was the in- 
 spiration, here, not of profound thought, but of passionate emotion, it 
 was right that music at the very first moment should overflow the 
 page, and that it should be literally strewed with roses. An imperfect 
 impersonation is often proof positive of the highest state of poetical 
 enthusiasm. The forms of nature undergo a half-humanizing process 
 under the intensity of our love, yet still retain the character of the in- 
 sensate creation, thus affecting us with a sweet, strange, almost bewil- 
 dering, blended emotion that scarcely belongs to either separately, but 
 to both together clings as to a phenomenon that only the eye of genius 
 sees, because only the soul of genius can give it a presence though 
 afterwards all eyes dimly recognize it, on its being shown to them, as 
 something more vivid than their own faint experience, yet either kindred 
 to it, or virtually one and the same." 
 
 One of the most remarkable characteristics of this poem is the great 
 frequency and beauty of the instances of Personification, or Prosopopoaia, 
 which it contains a figure of speech in which the external form, the 
 sentiments, the language, or acts, of an animated, sentient being are at- 
 tributed to an inanimate, irrational one. For a second example, we 
 have to look no farther than to the eleventh line, where commences an 
 admirable personification of Winter. A much more full and perfect 
 instance, however, is furnished at the opening of " Summer" to which 
 the reader is referred. 
 
 The several parts of this poem are not arranged in the order of their 
 original publication, which was the following : Winter, Summer, Spring, 
 Autumn. These made their appearance, respectively, in the years 1726, 
 1727 1728, and 1730. 
 
SPRING. -45 
 
 Which thy own Season paints ; when Nature all 
 
 Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. 10 
 
 And see where surly WINTER passes off, /\ 
 Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts : 
 His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 
 The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale ; 
 While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 15 
 
 Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 
 The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 
 
 As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, 
 And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, 
 Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets J 20 
 
 Deform the day delightless : so that scarce 1 
 
 The progress of man's life (says Cunningham) has often been com- 
 pared to that of the Year ; and Thomson, it is likely, regarded this sub- 
 ject in that light, when, at the happy suggestion of Mallet, he resolved 
 to unite the four "Seasons" into one continuous poem; making "hoary 
 Winter" the conclusion, and infant Spring the commencement. On 
 Spring he therefore calls ; she descends, amid moisture from above, and 
 music from below ; and as she comes, Winter withdraws his snow fromi 
 the hill, and his winds from the leafless woods, and leaves with reluc- 
 tance the scene to his successor (27-43). 
 
 5. Hertford:* The Countess of Hertford, to whom this "Season" 
 was originally dedicated by the poet. She was the wife of Algernon, 
 then Earl of Hertford, afterwards Duke of Somerset. To her generous 
 intercession Savage the poet, condemned for murder, owed his pardon. 
 She was not only a patroness of poets, but herself the writer of several 
 poems in Dr. Watts' Miscellanies, there attributed to Eusebia. Her 
 letters to Dr. Isaac Watts, published in the Elegant Epistles, vol. v., 
 give us a favorable opinion of her piety, amiableness, and intellectual 
 culture. Thomson's Dedication intimates that his " Spring" was written 
 iinder the encouragement, and in the hope of her needed patronage. 
 He had the honor of passing one summer as a guest at her country 
 seat, it being usually her practice to invite some poet to pass that sea- 
 son with her, to aid her in her poetical studies. She was an intimate 
 friend of the devout Mrs. Elizabeth Howe. The compliments which 
 Thomson pays to her, both in the original dedication and in the text, 
 appear not to have been undeserved. His previous publication of 
 Winter was the means of securing to him her favorable regard, besides 
 that of several other distinguished characters. 
 
46 SPRING. 
 
 A The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf 'd, 
 To shake the sounding marsh ; or from the shore 
 The plovers, when to scatter o'er the heath, 
 And sing their wild notes to the list'ning waste. 25 
 
 INFLUENCE OF SPRING ON INANIMATE MATTER. 
 
 v At last from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun, 
 And the brio;ht Bull receives him. Then no more 
 
 o 
 
 Th' exjDansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold ; 
 
 But, full of life and vivifying soul, 
 
 Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin, 30 
 
 Fleecy, and white o'er all surrounding heaven. 
 
 Forth fly the tepid airs ; and unconfined, 
 Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. 
 
 22. The bittern belongs to the class of birds called Grallce, or Waders, 
 having very long legs, which fit them to wade in water. The genus 
 Ardeidce embraces Cranes, Storks, and Herons. These latter differ from 
 cranes in being carnivorous ; also in having larger bills and longer legs. 
 They have also more beautiful plumage and elegant crests. They build 
 their nests in company, usually in trees near river-banks, but generally 
 feed and live apart. They live chiefly upon fish, which they secure by 
 piercing them with their long and sharp bills. To the heron tribe be- 
 long the bittern and the egret, both of which are natives of Britain. 
 
 24. The plover tribe belongs also to the Waders, but it is less aquatic 
 than most of the other species. They occupy, for the most part, sandy 
 and unsheltered shores or upland moors. They congregate in flocks, and 
 run at a rapid rate. They live on worms, which they bring towards the 
 surface of the ground by patting on it with their feet. The plover is 
 not confined to Britain, but is widely distributed. 
 
 26. Aries : That portion of the Zodiac which the Sun appears to enter 
 on the 21st of March. The next Sign which receives him, a month af- 
 terwards, is Taurus, or the bright Bull, so called from the brilliancy of 
 the stars in and near it. 
 
 30. Sublime, for sublimely. It is a practice with poets frequently to 
 use the adjective adverbially, to modify the idea expressed by the verb 
 or phrase to which it may stand related. It is a very convenient and 
 beautiful peculiarity of our language that it admits of such a substi- 
 tution. 
 
SPRING. 47 
 
 Joyous, tli' impatient husbandman perceives 
 
 Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers 35 
 
 Drives from their stalls, to where the well-used plough 
 
 Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost. 
 
 There unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke 
 
 They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, 
 
 Cheer' d by the simple song and soaring lark. 40 
 
 Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share 
 
 The master leans, removes th' obstructing clay, 
 
 Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. 
 
 While thro' the neighboring fields the sower stalks, 
 
 With measured step ; and liberal throws the grain 45 
 
 Into the faithful bosom of the ground. 
 
 The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene. 
 
 Be gracious, Heaven ! for now laborious man fi 
 Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow ; 
 Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend ! 50 
 
 And temper all, thou world-reviving Sun, 
 Into the perfect year ! Nor ye, who live 
 In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, 
 Think these lost themes, unworthy of your ear : , 
 Such themes as these the rural Maro sung 55 
 
 43. Winds the whole work : The English method of ploughing consists 
 in first running a furrow through the centre of a field, and then taking 
 off successive furrows on either side by passing with the plough round 
 and round that first furrow. N 
 
 46-52. " The farmer now commits his seed-corn to the furrow ; the 
 harrow follows, and shuts the scene ; and the poet calls on lenient airs 
 and gentle warmth to bring their aid to the labors of man." 
 
 55. Maro : Publius Yirgilius Maro, the great Latin poet, author of 
 the ^Eneid and the Georgics, was born B. C. 70, in the village of Andes, 
 near Mantua, in Italy. His " Georgics" is an exquisite and most elabo- 
 rate poem, treating upon Agriculture, and one that greatly interested 
 the Emperor Augustus. In allusion to this, his most finished produc- 
 tion, and to his Eclogues, or Pastoral Poems, our author very properly 
 styles him the rural poet. 
 
 From the time of Romulus (says Dunlap) to that of Oajsar, agriculture 
 
4:8 SPRING. 
 
 To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height 
 Of elegance and taste, by Greece refined. 
 In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd 
 The kings, and awful fathers of mankind. 
 And some, with whom compared your insect tribes 60 
 
 Are but the beings of a summer's day, 
 Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm 
 Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand, 
 Disdaining little delicacies, seized 
 
 The plough, and greatly independent lived. 65 
 
 Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough ! 
 
 had been the chief care of the Romans. Its operations were conducted 
 by the greatest statesmen, and its precepts inculcated by the profound 
 est scholars. The long continuance, however, and cruel ravages of the 
 civil wars, had now occasioned an almost general desolation. In these 
 circumstances, Maecenas resolved, if possible, to revive the decayed spirit 
 of agriculture, to recall the lost habits of peaceful industry, and to make 
 rural improvement, as it had been in former times, the prevailing amuse- 
 ment among the great ; and he wisely judged that no method was so 
 likely to contribute to these important objects as a recommendation of 
 agriculture by all the insinuating charms of poetry. At his suggestion, 
 accordingly, Virgil commenced his Georgics a poem as remarkable for 
 majesty and magnificence of diction as the Eclogues are for sweetness 
 and harmony of versification. 
 
 60. And some, <fcc. : Among other instances may be mentioned the 
 familiar one of L. Quintius Cineinnatus. who was engaged in ploughing 
 his own fields when called to the Dictatorship at Rome, and after deliv- 
 ering his country from great peril, and enjoying a great military tri- 
 umph at Rome, in a few days returned contentedly to the quiet of his 
 farm. American history can produce many examples of elevation to 
 the highest offices from the pursuits of agriculture ; and of a dignified 
 descent, when the term of office had expired, to rural retirement. 
 Washington is the most illustrious instance. 
 
 66. Venerate the plough: In the early and best days of the Roman 
 s Dr. Duncan), the plough was venerated ; and ofti-n wns itr 
 1 by consuls and iuuivlled commanders. While ceininere< 
 its subsidiary art-. i.sed, the cultivation of the .-oil v 
 
 in every respect worthy of Roman dignity ; and hands that one day 
 swayed the rod of empire, on the next were guiding the plough in 
 some suburban farm. We see a Cincinnatus and a Fabricius, notwith- 
 
SPRING. 
 
 4:9 
 
 And o'er your hills and long withdrawing vales, 
 Let Autumn spread his treasures to the Sun, 
 Luxuriant and unbounded. As the sea, 
 Far through his azui^urbulentjion^in, tf 70 
 
 Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores 
 Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports ; 
 So with superior boon may your rich soil, . 
 Exuberant Nature's better blessings pour \ 
 ~0'er every land, the naked nations clothe, I 75 
 
 And be th' exhaustless granary of a world j 
 
 INFLUENCE OF SPRING ON VEGETABLE MATTER. 
 
 Nor only through the lenient air this change ,X 
 Delicious breathes : the penetrative Sun, 
 His force deep darting to the dark retreat 
 Of vegetation, sets the sJLeaming Power y 80 
 
 At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth, 
 In various hues ; but chiefly thee, gay green ! 
 Thou smiling Nature's universal robe ! 
 United light and shade ! where the sight dwells^ 
 With growing strength and ever new delight. 85 
 
 From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, 
 Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, 
 And swells and deepens to the cherish'd eye. 
 
 standing their warlike glory, devoted to agriculture, as if it were the 
 great business of their lives ; and a Cato testifying his love of that no- 
 blest of the arts, by writing an elaborate treatise on rustic affairs. 
 
 80. Stcammg Power : This epithet is applied to vegetation, or the 
 principle of growth in plants and trees, and is poetically represented 
 as wandering over the earth in various lines, after its wintry confinement 
 in the frozen ground. It is difficult to determine why it should be called 
 the steaming Power, unless from the fact that it comes forth or develops 
 itself, under the warming influences of the spring sun, in the midsi of 
 vapor and exhalations from the 'earth. 
 
 3 
 
50 SPRING. 
 
 The hawthorn whitens, and the juicy groves 
 Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 90 
 
 Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed, 
 In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales ; 
 Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, 
 And the birds sing conceal'd. At once array'd 
 In all the colors of the flushing year, 95 
 
 By Nature's swift and secret working hand, 
 The garden flows, and fills the liberal air 
 With lavish fragrance ; while the promised fruit 
 Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived, 
 
 Within its crimson folds. Now .from the town, 100 
 
 , cr Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 
 i^ Qft ..let Jue-wauder o'^r.the dewy fields, 
 
 Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops 
 
 From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 
 
 Of sweetbiiar hedges I pursue my walk ; 105 
 
 Or taste the smell of dairy ; or ascend 
 
 Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, 
 
 And see the country, far diffused around, 
 
 IOne boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower 
 Of mingled blossoms ; where the raptured eye 110 
 
 Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath 
 The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies 
 
 89. The hawthorn : This shrub or small tree is much used for hedges, 
 particularly in Great Britain, and adds greatly to the beauty of the 
 rural districts. 
 
 93. The twining brake : This is a species of fern, delighting in a moist 
 soil and shady places. The kind here referred to is one that twists or 
 winds the stem around neighboring objects. 
 
 100. The town : Reference is probably made to London, to which the 
 description pre-eminently answers, and where, it is well known, the poet 
 passed much of his time after he became an author. 
 
 107. Auausta : Some rural district, perhaps, in the vicinity of Lon- 
 don ; or it may stand for London itself, the ancient Latin name of which 
 was Augusta Triuobantum. The description of the vernal scene pre- 
 sented in the following lines is exceedingly graphic. 
 
SPKING. 51 
 
 If, brusli'd from Russian wilds, a cutting gale 
 
 Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings 
 
 The clammy mildew; or, dry blowing, breathe 115 
 
 Untimely frost ; before whose baleful blast 
 
 The full-blown Spring through all her foliage shrinks 
 
 Joyless and dead, a Avide dejected waste. y_ 
 
 For oft, engender'd by the hazy north, J\ 
 
 Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 120 
 
 Keen in the poison'd breeze ; and wasteful eat, 
 
 Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd core, 
 
 Their eager way. A feeble race ! yet oft 
 
 The sacred sons of vengeance ; on whose course\ 
 
 Corrosive Famine waits, and kills the year. I 125 
 
 To check this plague, the skilful farmer chaff, 
 
 And blazing straw before his orchard burns ; 
 
 Till, all involved in smoke, the latent foe 
 
 From every cranny suffocated falls : 
 
 Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust~ 130 
 
 Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe : 
 
 Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl 
 
 With sprinkled water drowns them in their aest : 
 
 Nor, while they pick them up with busy b>ll, 
 
 The little trooping birds unwisely scares. 135 
 
 120. Warp : Thus Milton 
 
 "A pitchy cloud 
 Of locusts warping on the eastern wind." Par. Zosf, Bk. i., 340. 
 
 124. Sacred sons of vengeance: Insects, by their vast numbers 
 and voracity, often make dreadful havoc on the fruits and foliage, such 
 as not unfrequently has produced the calamity of famine and of pesti- 
 lence. Sacred History supplies many instances in which the insect 
 tribes have been made the instruments of Divine Providence in chas- 
 tising guilty nations for their immoralities and idolatry. Secular history 
 is also full of similar examples, in which the insect races have been con- 
 stituted the " sacred sons of vengeance." 
 
 135. The important offices performed by little birds in devouring de- 
 structive insects deserve remark ; while, on the other hand, it may be 
 observed, that various kinds of insects render service to man by the 
 
5$ SPRING. 
 
 Be patient, swains ; these cruel-seeming winds 
 Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress'd 
 Those deep'ning clouds on clouds, surcharged with rain, 
 That, o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne 
 In endless train, would quench the summer blaze, 140 
 
 And, cheerless, drown the crude unripen'd year. 
 
 tThe north-east spends his rage ; he now shut up 
 ithin his iron cave, th' effusive south 
 arms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven 
 eathes the big clouds, with vernalj^ojEers distent. 145 
 As first, a dusky wreath they seem to rise, 
 Scarce staining ether ; but, by swift degrees, 
 In heaps on heaps, the doublingvapor sails 
 
 I Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep 
 Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom : 150 
 
 \Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, 
 Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind, 
 And full $f every hope and every joy, 
 Thg wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze 
 Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath 155 
 
 A Is heard to quiver through the closing woods, 
 I Or rustling 'turn the many-twinkling leaves 
 Of aspen tall. Th* uncurling floods, diffused 
 In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse 
 Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all, 160 
 
 And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks 
 
 removal of decomposing substances that would poison the air and in- 
 duce diseases. As an example of the capacity which some possess for 
 such a service, it is said that, as a consequence of individual voracity and 
 rapid increase of numbers, three flesh-flies and their immediate progeny, 
 according to a calculation made by Linnaeus, are able to devour the car- 
 cass of a horse in less time than a lion could do it. It may be added, 
 that a check is happily put upon the excessive multiplication of insects, 
 by the attacks made upon them by other tribes of animals, and by their 
 wars upon their own tribes. 
 
n 
 
 SPKING. 53 
 
 Drop the dry sprig, and jnrute imploring eye^ 
 The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense, 
 The plumy people streak their wings with oil, 
 To throw the lucid moisture trickling off ; 
 And wait th' approachiig sign to strike, at once. 
 Into the generaJLchoir.) Even mountains, vales, ' 
 
 Torests seem impatient to demand 
 
 i The promised sweetness. Man superior walks ^ 
 
 Amid the glad creation, musingr praise, 170 
 
 And looking lively gratitude. At last, 
 The clouds consign their treasures to the fields ; 
 And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool 
 
 ^. Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, 
 
 In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world. 175 
 
 The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard | 
 By such as wander through the forest walks, 1 
 
 x>* Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves. \ 
 
 But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends 
 
 In universal bounty, shedding herbs 180 
 
 And fruits and flowers on Nature's ample lap ? 
 
 Swift Fancy fired anticipates their growth ; 
 
 And, while the milky nutriment distils, 
 
 Beholds the kindling country color round. 
 
 Thus, all day long, the full-distended clouds 185 
 
 Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth 
 
 Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life ; 
 
 Till, in the western sky, the downward sun 
 
 .^ Looks outy^ffulgent, from amid the flush 
 
 Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. 190 
 
 The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes 
 
 Th' illumined mountain, through the forest streams, 
 
 167-184. Rain is now required to help the quickening fruits, and tl** 
 poet paints, with singular beauty, the birds in the wood, the cattle on 
 the hill, and the thirsty fields themselves, desiring the fall of the now 
 gathering shower. -C. 
 
SPEIXG. 
 
 Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist, 
 
 Far smoking o'er th ? interminable plain, 
 
 In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. 195 
 
 Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around. 
 
 Full swell the woods : their very music wakes, 
 
 Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks 
 
 Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills, 
 
 And hollow lows responsive from the vales ; 200 
 
 Whence blending ail, the sweeten'd zephyr springs. 
 
 Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud, 
 
 Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow 
 
 Shoots up immense ; and every hue unfolds, 
 
 In fair proportion running from the red 205 
 
 To where the violet fades into the sky. 
 
 .Here, awful Newton, the dissolving clouds 
 
 'orm, fronting on the sun, thy shrjwery prism ; 
 
 .nd to the sage-instructed eye unfold * 
 
 lie various twine of light, by thee disclosed 210 
 
 om the white mingling maze. Not so the boy : 
 wondering views the bright enchantment bend 
 lightful o'er the radiant fields, and runs 
 catch the falling glory ; but amazed, 
 
 207. Awful Xcwton : So called from the uncommon respect which liis 
 great talents and discoveries command and inspire. The fact that white 
 light is not simple, but compounded of seven colors, he verified by means 
 of a glass prism : he resolved the various twine, or twist, or combination 
 of the rays that compose white light the white commingling maze. 
 The prism of nature is the falling shower, the dissolving clouds, acting 
 upon which, the sun produces the magnificent spectrum of the Rainbow. 
 The speculations of the uneducated boy upon this brilliant phenomenon 
 are finely described. Later philosophers have shown that the seven 
 colors are modifications of three primary colors, red, yellow, and blue. 
 
 Among the smaller poems of Thomson is one composed in memory 
 of this great English philosopher, in the preparation of which his friend 
 Gray is said to have furnished him with such an account of the Newto- 
 nian philosophy as guarded him against error in his treatment of the 
 subject. 
 
es, 
 
 , 
 
 2"20 
 
 SPRING. 55 
 
 S- Beholds th^amusivc arch before him fly, 215 
 
 Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds, 
 A soften'd shade, and saturated earth 
 Awaits the morning beam, to give to light, 
 Raised through ten thousand different plastic tu 
 The balmy treasures of the former day. 
 
 Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
 O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power 
 Of botanist to number up their tribes ; 
 Whether he steals along the lonely dale, 
 In silent search ; or, through the forest, rank 225 
 
 With what th dull incuri^nH Tr^Hs~a&2ant, 1 
 Bursts his blind way ; or climbs the mountain rock, 
 Fired by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 With such a liberal hand has Nature flung 
 Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 230 
 
 Innumerous mix'd them with the nursing mould, 
 The moistening current, and prolific rain. 
 
 But who, their virtues can declare ? who pierce, 
 With vision pure, into these secret stores 
 Of health and life and joy ? the food of man, j 235 
 
 While yet he lived in innocence, and told / . s^ u 
 
 A length of golden years ; unflesh'd in blood, 
 A stranger to the savage arts of life, 
 t)eath, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease ; 
 The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 
 
 240 
 
 225-6. The forest rank with, <fcc.: That is, filled luxuriantly with what 
 dull, incurious persons account as weeds. 
 
 233. Their virtues: The virtues, or valuable properties and uses, of the 
 various families of herbs previously alluded to. 
 
 237. UnflesKd in blood: Not accustomed to the use of blood. The 
 term is taken from the dialect of sportsmen, who are in the practice of 
 training dogs or hawks to the business they pursue, by feeding them with 
 the game they take, or other flesh. That this is the meaning put upon 
 the expression by our author, is plain from what follows. 
 
56 SPKING. 
 
 A 
 
 THE GOLDEN AGE* OR MAN IN A STATE OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 / The first fresh dawn then waked the gladden'd race 
 
 A\jfM3f uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to see 
 V^ The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam ; 
 
 For their light slumbers gently fumed away, 
 
 And up they rose as vigorous as the sun, 245 
 
 Or to the culture of the willing glebe, 
 
 Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock. 
 
 Meantime the song went round ; and dance and sport, 
 
 Wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole 
 
 Their hours away ; while in the rosy vale 250 
 
 Love breathed his infant sighs, from anguish free, 
 
 And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain, 
 
 That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more. 
 
 Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 
 
 Was known among those happy sons of Heaven ; 255 
 
 For reason and, .benevolence were law. 
 
 Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on ; 
 
 Clear shone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales, 
 
 And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun 
 
 Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds 260 
 
 Dropp'd fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead, 
 
 244. Their light slumbers gently fumed, exhaled away, or came to an 
 easy and gradual termination. We are here reminded of the slumbers 
 of Adam and Eve, while yet innocent, as described by Milton, at the 
 opening of Book V. of the Paradise Lost. 
 
 Now morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime 
 
 Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, 
 
 When Adam waked, so custom' d ; for his sleep 
 
 Was aery light, from pure digestion bred 
 
 And temp'rate vapors bland, which th' only sound 
 
 Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, 
 
 Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song 
 
 Of birds on every bough. 
 
 261. Dropped fatness down : A beautiful expression, borrowed from the 
 Hebrew bard, and indicating the fertilizing influences of the clouds, or 01 
 the rains they let fall upon the earth. The reader is referred to Psalm 
 Ixv. 9-12. 
 
SPKING. 57 
 
 The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure. 
 
 This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, 
 
 The glaring lion saw, his horridjiejirt 
 
 Was meeken'd, and he join'd his sullen joy ; 265 
 
 For music held the whole in perfect peace : 
 
 Soft sigh'd the flute ; the tender voice was heard, 
 
 Warbling the variedjieart the woodlands round 
 
 Applied their choir ; and winds and waters flow'd 
 
 In consonance. Such were those prime of days. 270 
 
 THE IRON AGE \ OR MAN IN A STATE OF DEFRAY 
 
 But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence 
 The fabling poets took their Golden Age, 
 Are found no more amid these Iron Times, 
 These dregs of life ! Now the distempered mind ! 
 Has lostthat concord of harmoTvi 1 -^ pnwpra j , . 215 
 I Which forms the soul of Jiappiaitss ; and *all / O***<z+A~J 
 Is offjhe poise within : the passions all 
 Have burst their bounds ; arid reason, half extinct, 
 I Or impotent, or else approving, sees 
 
 j The foul disorder. Senseless, and deform'd, / 280 
 
 Convulsive Anger storms at large ; or, pale 
 And silent, settles into fell revenge. 
 Base Envy withers at another's joy, 
 And hates that excellence it cannot reach. 
 
 Desponding Fear, of feeble fancies full, ^ 285 
 
 Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. 
 
 g'en Love itself is bitterness of soul, I 
 
 A pensive anguish pining at the heart ; | 
 
 Or, sunk to sordid interests, feels no more 
 
 That noble wish, that never cloy'd desire, 29C 
 
 Which selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone 
 
 270. Prime, or first, of days : Prime is a favorite expression of Milton, 
 
58 SPRING. 
 
 | To bless the dearer object of its flame. 
 X^ Hope sickens with extravagance ; and Grief, 
 
 ^ Of life impatient, into Madness swells ; 
 
 Or in dead silence, wastes the weeping hours. 295 
 
 These, and a thousand mix'd emotions more, 
 From everjslmn^mgjviews .of_g.QQ.d. 3&dJU 
 
 ^/ Form'd infinitely various, vex the, mind 
 
 With endless storm ; whence, deeply rankling grows 
 
 The partial thought, a listless unconcern, 300 
 
 Cold, and averting from our neighbor's good ; 
 
 Then dark Disgust, and Hatred, winding wiles, 
 
 Coward Deceit, and ruffian violence. 
 
 At last, extinct each social feeling, fell 
 
 And joyless Inhumanity pervades 305 
 
 I/ And petrifies the heart. Xature disturbed 
 
 Is deem'd vindictive, to have changed her course. 
 
 Hence, in old dusky time, a deluge came ; 
 When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that arch'd 
 The central waters round, impetuous rush'd, 310 
 
 With universal burst, into the gulf, 
 And o'er the high-piled hills of fractured earth 
 Wide dash'd the waves, in undulation vast ; 
 Till, from the centre to the streaming clouds, 
 A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe. 315 
 
 309-15. This passage will not bear a critical examination, though its 
 general import may be easily comprehended. By deep-cleft disparting 
 orb the author means the external shell or crust of the earth separating 
 in deep fissures, and thus affording a passage to the central waters which 
 he supposes to occupy the' whole interior of the globe. The rush of wa- 
 ters elevates certain portions of the fractured earth, forming high-piled 
 hills, over which dash'd the waves on a stupendous scale, so that from the 
 centre of the earth to the very clouds a wide and deep waste of waters 
 was formed. He represents the disparting orb as rushing, or moving for- 
 ward, impetuously into the gulf, or ocean beds. We must consider him 
 as meaning ihat the waters from the disparted orb, and not the orb itself 
 rushed into the gul 
 
SPRING. Oil 
 
 CHANGES CONSEQUENT UPON THE DELUGE. 
 
 The Seasons since have, with severer sway, 
 Oppress'd a broken world : the Winter keen 
 Shook forth his waste of snows ; and Summer shot 
 His pestilential heats. Great Spring, before, 
 Green'd all the year ; and fruits and blossoms blush'd, 320 
 In social sweetness, on the self-same bough. 
 Pure was the temperate air ; an even calm / 
 
 Perpetual reign'd, save what the zephyrs bland % AlJXx^. 
 "Rrpat.^pfl nW |]if>. hlnp. expanse ; for then nor storms 
 Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage. 325 
 
 Sound slept the waters ; no sulphureous glooms 
 S well'd in the sky, and sent the lightning forth ; 
 While sickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs, 
 Hung not, relaxing, on the springs of life. 
 But now, of turbid elements the sport, 330 
 
 From clear to cloudy toss'd, from hot to cold, 
 And dry to moist, with inward-eating change, 
 Our drooping days are dwindled down to naught, 
 Their period finish'd ere 'tis well begun. > 
 
 CENSURE UPON THE USE OF ANIMAL FOOD. 
 
 And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies ; 335 
 
 Though with the pure exhilarating soul 
 Of nutriment and health and vital powers, 
 Beyond the search of art, 'tis copious bless'd. 
 For, with hot ravine fired, ensanguined man 
 
 333. Dwindled down, &c. : A satisfactory reason can be given for this 
 physical change. The longevity of the antediluvians led to that enor- 
 mous wickedness, on account of which they were swept from the earth. 
 The great abbreviation of the period of human life since the deluge, and 
 the uncertainty of reaching even that moderate limit, greatly tend to pre- 
 vent maturity in crime, and to awaken a becoming regard to our religioua 
 interests, and to our condition in a future world. 
 
60 
 
 SPUING. 
 
 Is now become the lion of the plain, > 340 
 
 And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 
 
 Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk, 
 
 Nor wore her warming fleece ; nor has the steer, 
 
 At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 
 
 E'er plough'd for him. They too are temper'd high, 345 
 
 With hunger stung and wild necessity j 
 
 Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 
 
 But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay^ 
 
 With every kind emotion in his heart, ^^"~ 
 
 And taught alone to weep ; while from her lap \ 350 
 
 She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 
 
 And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 
 
 Or beams that gave them birth ; shall he, fair form ! 
 
 Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven, 
 
 E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 355 
 
 And dip his tongue in gore ? The beast of prey, 
 
 Blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed ; but you, ye flocks, 
 
 What have you done ; ye peaceful people, what, 
 
 To merit death ? you, who have given us milk 
 
 In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat 360 
 
 'Against the Winter's cold ? And the plain ox, 
 
 That harmless, honest, guileless animal, 
 
 In what has he offended ? He, whose toil, 
 
 Patient, and ever ready, clothes the land 
 
 With all the pomp of harvest ; shall he bleed, 365 
 
 And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands 
 
 E'en of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps, 
 
 To swell the riot of th' autumnal feast, 
 
 Won by his labor ? Thus the feeling heart 
 
 Would tenderly suggest ; but 'tis enough, 3*70 
 
 In this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd 
 
 Light on the numbers of the Samian sage. 
 
 372. Samian sage : The wise man of Samos Pythagoras. He is said 
 to have invented the term philosopher (lover of wisdom), and to have as- 
 
SJPftENG. 
 
 61 
 
 High Heav.su forbids the bold presumptuous strain, 
 Whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state, iS 
 
 That must not yet to pure perfection rise. 375 
 
 TROUT-FISHING. 
 
 Now, when the first foul torrent of the brooks, 
 S weird with the vemal^rains, is ebb'd away, 
 And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctured stream 
 Descends the billowy foam ; now is the time, 
 While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, 380 
 
 To tempt the trout. The well dissembled fly, 1 
 ^ The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, 1 
 
 Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating linej 
 And all thy slender watery stores, prepare. 
 7 /' But let not on thy hook the tortured worm 4 . 385 
 
 \ Convulsive twist in agonizing folds ; % 
 
 /* Which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, 
 Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast,. . 
 Of the weak, helpless, uncomplaining wretch, wf \ 
 Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand. * 390 
 
 When with his lively ray the potent Sun 
 Has pierced the streams, and roused the finny race, s 
 
 Burned it as descriptive of himself. He was a great traveller in search of 
 knowledge, and finally settled at Orotona in the southern part of Italy, 
 where he gathered around him a large number of young men of noble 
 birth, and instructed them in the tenets of his philosophy. He is here 
 referred to by Thomson, because it was a principle of the Pythagorean 
 system to abstain from the use of animal food ; and this was based upon 
 the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, that is, the migration of the 
 human soul through the bodies of various animals successively. This doc- 
 trine still prevails extensively in Asia. 
 
 The mww&ers of the Saraian sage are probably the " Golden Verses'" 
 attributed to him, but written probably by some other hand. They con 
 tained a brief summary of his popular doctrines. To music, both as a 
 science and an art, Pythagoras is said to have given special and successful 
 attention. 
 
62 SPKING. 
 
 Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair. 
 JT Chief should the western breezes curling play, 
 X I And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds. 395 
 
 ^f*^ VHigh to their fount, this day, amid the hills, 
 f ,Y\ And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks ; 
 V* The next, pursue their rocky-channel'd maze 
 Down to the river, in whose ample wave 
 Their little Naiads love to sport at large. 400 
 
 Just in the dubious point, where with the pool 
 Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils 
 Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank 
 Reverted plays in undulating flow ; 
 
 There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly ; 405 
 
 And, as you lead it round in artful curve, 
 With eye attentive mark the springing game. 
 Straight as above the surface of the flood 
 They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap, 
 : Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook ; 410 
 
 Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank, 
 And to the shelving shore slow dragging some, 
 With various hand proportion'd to their force. 
 If yet too young, and easily deceived, 
 
 1A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod, 415 
 
 Him, piteous of his youth and the short space ,-J *{, 
 
 ^ He has enjoy'd the vital light of heaven, C^A , 
 
 I y^ Soft disengage, and back into the stream ^ v) Jfrr 
 
 ^ .. The speckled captive throw. But should you lure 
 jW' From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots 420 
 * I Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook, 
 Behooves you then to ply your finest art. 
 Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly ; 
 And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft 
 
 400. Naiads : Certain imaginary female deities (of the Grecian and Ro- 
 man Mythology) that were fancied to preside over fountains, streams, 
 and seas. 
 
SPRING. Od 
 
 The dimpled water speaks his jealous ^gar. 425 
 
 At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun 
 
 Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death, 
 
 With sullen plunge. At once he darts along 
 
 Deep-struck, and runs out all the lengthen'd line ; 
 
 Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed, 430 
 
 The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode ; 
 
 And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, 
 
 Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, 
 
 That feels him still, yet to his furious course 
 
 Gives way, you, now retiring, following now 435 
 
 Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage ; 
 
 Till, floating broad upon his breathless side, 
 
 And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore 
 
 You gayly drag your unresisting prize. 
 
 NOON-DAY RECREATIONS. 
 
 Thus pass the temperate hours ; but when the sun 440 
 Shakes from his noonday throne the scattering clouds, 
 E'en shooting listless languor through the deeps ; 
 Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd, 
 Where, scattered wild, the lily of the vale 
 Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang 445 
 
 The dewy head, where purple violets lurk, 
 With all the lowly children of the shade ; 
 Or lie reclined beneath yon spreading ash, 
 Hung o'er the steep ; whence, borne on liquid wing, 
 The sounding culver shoots ; or where the hawk, 450 
 
 High in the beetling cliff, his eyry builds. 
 There let the classic page thy fancy lead ^/ 
 
 Through rural scenes ; such as the Mantuan swain 
 
 427. The death : That which causes death the hook. 
 450. The culver : The wood-pigeon. 
 
 453. Mantuan swain: Virgil, whose Pastoral songs (the Eclogues) are 
 here deservedly commended for their harmonious numbers. 
 
G4: SPUING. 
 
 Paints in the matchless harmony of song ; 
 
 Or catch thyseif the landscape, gliding swift 455 
 
 Athwart Imagination's vivid eye ; 
 
 Or, by the vocal woods and waters lulled, 
 
 And lost in lonely musing, in the dream, 
 
 tonfused, of careless solitude, where mix 
 
 Ten thousand wandering images of things, 460 
 
 Soothe every gust of passion into peace ; 
 
 All but the swellings of the soften'd heart, 
 
 That weaken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. 
 
 Behold yon breathing prospect bids the Muse 
 Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint 465 
 
 Like Nature ? Can Imagination boast, 
 Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 
 Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, 
 And lose them in each other, as appears 
 In every bud that blows ? If fancy then 470 
 
 Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, 
 Ah, what shall language do ? Ah, where find words 
 Tinged with so many colors ; and whose power, 
 To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
 With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, 475 
 
 \ That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 
 
 Yet, though successless, will the toil delight. 
 Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts 
 Have felt the raptures of refining love ; 
 And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song ! 480 
 
 465-476. Amid the growing freshness and increasing beauty of the 
 land, the poet walks to select a scene, the loveliest he can find, on which 
 to lay out the choicest colors of the Muse. He feels, as he gazes, how 
 difficult it is to limn in words the varying splendor of the Spring, and ex- 
 claims " But who can paint like Nature ?" cfec. C. 
 
 480. Amanda : This lady was Miss Elizabeth Young, whom Thomson 
 greatly desired to marry ; hut he conceived himself not warranted in of- 
 fering his hand, from the scantiness of his income. She became the wife 
 of Vice Admiral John Campbell. Thomson writes of her, as will be ob- 
 
SPRING. 65 
 
 Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself : 
 
 Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, 
 
 Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, 
 
 Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, 
 
 Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart. 485 
 
 Oh, come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
 
 served, with the greatest ardor of affection. She is said to have heen 
 the only woman to whom he was known to be attached, and as she was 
 possessed of very superior endowments, his disappointment in obtaining 
 her greatly diminished his enjoyment of life. In a letter to his sister in 
 1747, dated at Hagley, Worcestershire, he thus writes on this subject: 
 " My circumstances have hitherto been so variable and uncertain in this 
 fluctuating world as induce to keep me from engaging in such a state ; 
 and now, though they are more settled, and of late considerably improved, 
 I begin to think myself too far advanced in life for such youthful under- 
 takings, not to mention some other petty reasons that are apt to startle 
 the delicacy of difficult old bachelors. I am, however, not a little suspi- 
 cious that, were I to pay a visit to Scotland, I might possibly be tempted 
 to think of a thing not easily repaired if done amiss." 
 
 481. The Graces : In the Grecian Mythology these are described as 
 three young and beautiful sisters, the companions of Venus, the goddess 
 of Beauty. They were (as Anthon remarks) an aesthetic conception of 
 all that is beautiful and attractive in the physical as well as in the social 
 world. The Graces were at all times, in the creed of Greece, the god- 
 desses presiding over social enjoyment, the banquet, the dance, and all 
 that tended to inspire gayety and cheerfulness. 
 
 To these, according to Thomson's poetical conception, his Amanda was 
 indebted for her surpassing loveliness. Milton, in his Allegro, has intro- 
 duced them in a very lively strain. 
 
 486. Rosy-footed May: A beautiful personification of this favorite 
 spring month. The epithet applied is obviously appropriate to the month 
 as productive of roses. The first day of this month has long been cele- 
 brated in England with great festivity and mirth the observance owing 
 its origin, as is thought, to the heathen entertainments practised in honor 
 of the goddess Flora. The Druids on the eve of May-day were accus- 
 tomed to illuminate the hill-tops of Britain in demonstration of their grat- 
 itude and joy for the return of Spring in its maturity. Subsequently 
 all classes in England have participated in the sports appropriated to 
 May-day, when, in the language of old Chaucer, " forth goeth all the court, 
 most and least, to fetch the flowres fresh, and braunch and broom." In 
 this diversion Henry VIII. and Katharine, and the entire court, engaged 
 with high glee. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
 The morning dews, and gather in their prime 
 Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, 
 And thy loved bosom that improves their sweets. 490 
 
 THE WINDING AND WATERED VALE. G^ 
 
 See, where the winding vale its lavish stores, 
 jJrTTpmfflTg, spreads. See, how the lily drinks 
 The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grass, 
 v^ Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank, 
 
 In fair profusion, decks. Long let us walk, 495 
 
 Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
 
 Of blossom'd beans. Arabia cannot boast 
 
 A fuller gale of joy, than liberal thence 
 
 Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravish'd soul. 
 
 Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot, 500 
 
 Full of fresh verdure and unnumbered flowers, 
 
 The negligence of Nature, wide and wild ; 
 
 Where, undisguised by mimic art, sire spreads 
 
 Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. 
 
 Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 505 
 
 In swarming millions, tend. Around, athwart, 
 
 Through the soft air, the busy nations fly, ^ 
 
 Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube, \ 
 
 Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul ; / 
 
 And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare 510 
 
 The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, 
 
 And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. 
 
 497. Arabia, &c. : This country is celebrated for its aromatic pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 505-512. Thomson was a close observer of Nature : she sat for every 
 picture he draws. C. 
 
 511. The purple heath : The landscapes of Scotland and England are 
 beautifully diversified by large tracts covered with this shrub, that bears 
 a very delicate purple flower. The leaves retain their verdure through 
 
SPRING. 67 
 
 THE FLOWER-GARDEN. 
 
 At length the finished garden to the view 
 Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. 
 
 Snatch'd through the verdant maze, the hurried eye 515 
 Distracted wanders : now the bowery walk 
 Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day 
 Falls on the lengthened gloom, protracted sweeps ; 
 Now meets the bending sky ; the river now 
 Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake, 520 
 
 The forest darkening round, the glittering spire, 
 Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main. 
 But why so far excursive,? when at hand, 
 Along these blushing borders, bright with dew, 
 And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, 525 
 
 Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace ; 
 Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first, 
 The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, 
 
 ,he year. The shrub is made use of for thatch, brooms, beds for the poor, 
 md for heating ovens. Look now at the heather (says Prof. Wilson), and 
 smile whenever henceforth you hear people talk of purple. 
 
 527. Crocus: The first flower of Spring. The Scotch crocus is striped 
 with white and purple ; other varieties are striped with orange and 
 lark purple. An ancient fable is connected with this flower : a youth, 
 Orocus, being unable to marry a certain nymph, was said to have pined 
 iway, and to have been changed into the crocus, or saffron, this name be- 
 ng applied also to the saffron used in medicine, and which blossoms in 
 September. 
 
 528. The daisy : A favorite flower in Britain. It owed, perhaps, its 
 lame to Chaucer, who lived in the fourteenth century. From the pecu- 
 iarity which this flower possesses of folding its petals at sunset, and of 
 jxpanding them at sunrise, he called it Daijs-eye. One of Montgomery's 
 jretiiest poems is devoted to the daisy that sprang up unexpectedly in 
 3r. Carey's garden, at Serampore, in India, out of some English earth, in 
 which other seeds had been conveyed to him from England. He repre- 
 sents the missionary as addressing it thus : 
 
 Thrice welcome, little English flower ' 
 My mother country's white and red, 
 
68 SPRING. 
 
 And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes ; 
 
 The yellow wallflower, stain'd with iron brown, 530 
 
 And lavish stock that scents the garden round ; 
 
 From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, 
 1 Anemones ; auriculas, enrich'd 
 ' With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves, 
 
 And full ranuncula of glowing red. 535 
 
 In rose or lily, till this hour, 
 
 Never to me such beauty spread : 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Thrice welcome, little English flower I 
 
 "Whose tribes, beneath our natal skies 
 Shut close their leaves while vapors lower ; 
 
 But, when the sun's gay beams arise, 
 With unabashed but modest eyes, 
 
 Follow his motion to the west, 
 Nor cease to gaze till daylight dies, 
 
 Then fold themselves to rest, &c. 
 
 The daisy is the symbol of unconscious beauty ; while the crocus is the 
 symbol of cheerfulness and gayety. 
 
 528. The primrose (prime-rose) is an early rose of spring. In Flora's 
 Dictionary it is the symbol of delight in bringing modest worth from ob- 
 scurity. In English history white and red roses were emblems, respec- 
 tively, of the rival families of York and Lancaster, in their protracted 
 contests for the crown. 
 
 The blue violet is employed as an emblem of faithful friendship : the 
 white, of modest worth. 
 
 529. The polyanthos (so called from its many flowers) is said to be a 
 symbol of confidence in a friend. It belongs to the Primrose family : the 
 small flowers upon its stalk growing in clusters. 
 
 533. The atiemoneis sometimes seen putting forth its pale flowers amid 
 the snows of spring. It loves damp and shady situations. The name, 
 derived from a Greek word signifying wind, is properly applied to this 
 flower, because it expands most rapidly in windy weather. Its stem, two 
 or three feet 1 igh, bears one flower at the top, possessing large white 
 petals. But there are several species of anemone. 
 
 533. The Auricula (Flora's symbol of pride and elegance) fs a species 
 of primrose, called by this name because its leaves are shaped like the 
 ears of a bear. 
 
 535. Ranunculas (so called from rana, a frog, because the flower 
 abounds in places frequented by frogs), sometimes called crowfoot, some- 
 times buttercup, is a kind of plants, some of which are beautiful flowering 
 plants, particularly the Turkey or Persian varieties, which are distin- 
 guished for the richness of then* colors. 
 
SPEING. 69 
 
 Then comes the tulip race, where beauty plays 
 
 Her idle freaks. From family diffused 
 
 To family, as flies the father dust, 
 
 The varied colors run ; and while they break 
 
 On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, 540 
 
 With secret pride, the wonders of his hand. 
 
 No gradual bloom is wanting, from the bud, 
 
 First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes ; 
 
 Nor hyacinths of purest virgin white, \ 
 
 Lowjbent; andJWi^shingJnward ; nor jonquils 545 
 
 Of potent fragrance ; nor narcissus fair, 
 
 As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still ; 
 
 Nor broad carnations, nor gay spotted pinks ; 
 
 Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask rose : 
 
 Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, 550 
 
 With hues on hues expression cannot paint, 
 
 The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom. 
 
 DEVOUT ADDRESS TO THE GREAT SOURCE OF BEING. 
 
 Hail, Source of Being ! Universal Soul 
 Of heaven and earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! 
 
 647. Fabled fountain : The classical story of Narcissus is somewhat va- 
 iously narrated, but the substance of it is, that having seen his own image 
 eflected from a fountain, and discovering its strong resemblance to the 
 form of a deceased twin-sister, whose features and dress had been the 
 ounterpart almost of his own, and whom he had tenderly loved, he was 
 ccustomed afterwards to visit the fountain, and gaze upon the image 
 :hat brought her vividly and affectingly before his mind. His grief preyed 
 upon his mind, and brought him prematurely to death, and the gods, it 
 was said, compassionately changed him into the flower that bears his 
 name. That flower suits the fable so far as this : it delights in the mar- 
 gins of streams and fountains, and bending the top of its slender stalk 
 over the water, it may easily be conceived as viewing there its own im- 
 age : besides this, like the classical Narcissus, it is a short-lived flower. 
 
 553-568. Hail ! Source of Being ! &c. : The sight of those thrifty la- 
 borers (described in 505-512), in which the domestic toils of man are im- 
 aged, and the provision which Nature makes in a succession of the sweet- 
 
70 SPRING. 
 
 To Thee I bend the knee ; to Thee my thoughts 555 
 
 Continual climb ; Who, with a master hand, 
 Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. 
 
 By Thee tlie r various vegetative tribes, 
 
 j 
 
 Wrapp'd in a filmy net and clad with leaves, 
 
 Draw the live ether and imbibe the dew. 560 
 
 By Thee disposed into congenial soils, 
 
 est flowers for his gratification (525-552), bring God and his goodness to 
 the poet's mind. His address to the Deity is of exquisite delicacy and 
 truth. C. 
 
 553-4. Universal Soul, cfcc. : Very far was Thomson, in the use of this 
 expression, from adopting the Pantheistic doctrine of the " Animus Mun- 
 di," which confounds the Deity with creation, and makes the various crea 
 tures but several parts of the great God. He believed in a personal God, 
 the source of being, and always devoutly discriminated between Him and 
 his creatures in the homage which he frequently pays Him ia this Poem 
 of the Seasons. According to Cicero, the ancient Stoics held that this 
 world is wise, and has a mind or soul, whereby it formed or fabricated 
 both it and itself, and orders, moves, and governs all things ; and that the . 
 sun, moon, and stars are gods, because a certain animal intelligence pervades 
 and permeates all things. The learned Varro asserted, that the soul of the 
 world, and its parts, constituted the true gods. This theology or philoso- 
 phy, as Leland observes, furnished a pretext for worshipping the several 
 parts of the world, and the powers and virtues diffused through the parts 
 of it, under the name of the popular divinities ; though, in the following 
 lines, Pope may have possibly designed to express no other idea than that 
 of the Divine Omnipresence and universal agency, as set forth in the 
 Scriptures, he could not have presented a more literal, as well as beau- 
 tiful, statement or illustration of the Pantheistic and pernicious doctrine 
 to which we have adverted. 
 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body nature is, and God the soul; 
 That changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
 Great in the earth as in the ethereal flame ; 
 "Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent. 
 
 Thomson, in the text, conveys simply the idea, that God is the author oi ; 
 heaven and earth, or the universe, and that He carries forward the multi- 
 farious operations going on, by his universal and mysterious agency : an] 
 idea embraced in that sublime sentence of the apostle Paul " Of Him, 
 and to Him, and through Him, are all things." 
 
v 
 
 >\ 
 
 SPRING. 71 
 
 Stands each attractive plant, and sucks and swells 
 
 The juicy tide ; a twining mass of tubes. 
 
 At Thy command the vernal sun awakes 
 
 The torpid sap, detruded to the root 565 
 
 By wintry winds ; that now, in fluent dance, 
 
 And lively fermentation mounting, spreads 
 
 All this innumerous- color 'd scene of things. 
 
 As rising from the vegetable world 
 My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend, 570 
 
 My panting Muse. And hark, how loud the woods 
 Invite you forth in all your gayest. trim. -si 
 
 Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! oh, pour 
 The mazy-running soul of melody . 
 
 Into my varied verse ! while I deduce, 575 
 
 From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, 
 
 568. Critics have censured Thomson for employing many pedantic and 
 cumbrous expressions, one of which, innumerous-color'd, is here used, de- 
 scribing the scene of things around us as possessed of innumerable shades 
 of color. 
 
 571. My panting Muse : Modern poets have imitated the classical po- 
 ets of Greece and Rome in ascribing their poetic conceptions and compo- 
 sitions to an imaginary deity called by this name. Of the Muses there 
 were nine, one of whom was honored as presiding over poetry. Other 
 fine arts were patronized by her sister Muses. As our author is now 
 about to undertake more elevated themes, instead of calling upon his 
 Imagination and Fancy to aid him, he bids his panting Muse, under the 
 figure of a bird (see also 699-700) to ascend "with equal wing." This 
 word is generally used, therefore, by English poets as denoting the ge- 
 nius or ^ower of poetry the mental energy which produces this form of 
 composition. 
 
 576. Cuckoo : This bird belongs to a group which is characterized by 
 having the toes situated two before and two behind. It is a migratory 
 bird ; it arrives in England in the month of April for the purpose of 
 breeding. It differs from almost every other bird in not constructing a 
 nest, nor under any circumstances hatching its own eggs ; but deposits 
 them in the nests of other birds, as the heplge -sparrow. The unfledged 
 young have a remarkable instinct, -which impels them to unceasing efforts 
 to expel their helpless companions from the nest, which they effect by 
 pushing them in the hollow of their back to the verge of the nest, and 
 tilting them over, until they at length monopolize all the care and pro- 
 
SPKINQ. 
 
 The symphony of Spring, andjouch a theme 
 Unknown to fame, the Passion of the Groves. 
 
 THE LOVE OF THE GROVES AND COURTSHIP OF BIRDS. 
 
 When first the soul of love is sent abroad, 
 Warm through the vital air, and on the heart 580 
 
 Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, 
 In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing ; 
 And try again the long-forgotten strain, 
 At first faint warbled. But no sooner grows 
 The soft infusion prevalent and wide, 585 
 
 Than, all alive, at once their joy overflows 
 .In music unconfined. Up springs the lark, 
 \Shrill- voiced and loud, the messenger of morn : 
 uEre yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings 
 [Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 590 
 
 Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse 
 
 risi :>n of the foster-parent. The young cuckoos of the year do not leave 
 England till the month of September. BRANDS. 
 
 579-604. To this fine hymn the birds add their songs, each according 
 to its kind : the untaught harmony of Spring comes from the clear sky, 
 the tree-top, and the blooming hawthorn ; nor are the songsters unseen 
 by the poet, who knows the haunts of each. He gives the bramble to 
 the wren, the half-long tree to the thrush, and the cloud to the lark. C. 
 
 587. The lark : The scene described by the .poet receives further illus- 
 tration from the pen of Mrs. Ellis, -whey among other fine things, says, in 
 her " Poetry of Life," And then there is the glad voice of the lark, that 
 spring of perpetual freshness, pouring forth its untiring and inexhaustible 
 melody. Who ever listened to this voice on a clear spring morning, when 
 Nature was first rising from her wintry bed, when the furze was in bloom, 
 and the lambs at play, and the primrose and the violet scented the deli- 
 cious south wind that came with the glad tidings of renovated life ; who 
 ever listened to the song of the lark on such a morning, while the dew was 
 upon the grass, and the sun was smiling through a cloudless sky, without 
 feeling that the spirit of joy was still alive within, around, jind above him, 
 and that those wild and happy strains, floating in softened melody upon 
 the scented air, were the outpourings of a gratitude too rapturous for 
 words ? 
 
SPKING. 73 
 
 Deep tangled, tree irregular, and bush 
 Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads 
 Of the coy quiristers that lodge within, 
 Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush 595 
 
 And woodlark, o'er the kind contending throng 
 Superior heard, run through the sweetest length 
 Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns 
 To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 
 Elate, to make her night excel their day. 600 
 
 The blackbird whistles from the thorny brake 
 The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove. 
 Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze 
 Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these 
 Innumerous songsters, in the fresh'ning shade 605 
 
 Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix 
 ^Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, 
 And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, 
 Aid the full concert ; while the stockdove breathes 
 
 598. Philomela : The Nightingale, so called for the reason stated by 
 the poet. It ranks among the sweetest of song-birds, but owes perhaps 
 no small share of its celebrity to the circumstance of the serenity and 
 quiet of the night hours, and to its being the solitary songster. They mi- 
 grate in April or May to England from the south, for the purpose of 
 breeding; "and (according to Brande) the famed song of the male is his 
 love- chant, and ceases when his mate has hatched her brood. Vigilance, 
 anxiety, and caution now succeed to harmony ; and his croak is the hush, 
 the warning of danger and suspicion, to the infant charge and the mother 
 bird. If by accident his mate be killed, the male resumes his song ; and 
 will continue to chant till very late in summer, unless he can attract, as 
 he commonly soon does, another female." 
 
 The term Philomela signifies song-loving. Its application to the sweet- 
 singing Nightingale is connected with the classical legend which affirms 
 that Philomela, a daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, getting into diffi- 
 culty, was, in answer to her prayer, changed by the gods into a night- 
 ingale. 
 
 607-9. In the spring, says Mrs. Ellis, when the rooks first begin to be 
 busy with their nests, their language, like their feelings and occupations, 
 is cheerful, bustling, and tumultuous. Within the rookery it is perfect 
 discord ; but heard in the distance it conveys to the mind innumerable 
 
 4 
 
74 SPKING. 
 
 A melancholy murmur through the whole. 610 
 
 'Tis love creates their melody, and all 
 This waste of music is the voice of love ; 
 That even to birds and beasts the tender arts 
 Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind 
 Try every winning way inventive love 615 
 
 Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates 
 Pour forth their little souls. First, wide around, 
 With distant awe, in airy rings they rove, 
 Endeavoring by a thousand tricks to catch 
 The cunning, conscious, half averted glance 620 
 
 Of the regardless charmer. Should she seem 
 Softening the least approvance to bestow, 
 Their colors burnish, and, by hope inspired, 
 They brisk advance ; then, on a sudden struck, 
 4 Retire disorder 'd ; then again approach ; 625 
 
 In fond rotation spread the spotted wing, 
 And shiver every feather with desire. 
 
 NEST-BUILDING. 
 
 Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods 
 They haste away, all as their fancy leads, 
 Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts ; 630 
 
 That Nature's great command may be obey'd, 
 Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 
 Indulged in vain. Some to the holly hedge 
 Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
 
 pleasing associations with that delightful season of the year, and the uni- 
 versal alacrity and joy with which the animal creation resume their prep- 
 arations for a new and happy life. 
 
 616-627. Courtship, &c. : This entire passage displays to great advan- 
 tage the habits of close and minute observation, and also of accurate and 
 graphic description, for which Thomson is deservedly celebrated. 
 
 631. Nature's great command: Gen. i. 22 " And God blessed them, and 
 said, Let fowl multiply in the earth." 
 
SPRING. 75 
 
 Some to the rude protection of the thorn 635 
 
 Commit their feeble offspring. The cleft tree 
 
 Offers its kind concealment to a few, 
 
 Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. 
 
 Others apart, far in the grassy dale, 
 
 Or rough'ning waste, their humble texture weave. 640 
 
 But most in woodland solitudes delight, 
 
 In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks, 
 
 Steep and divided by a babbling brook, 
 
 Whose murmurs soothe them all the livelong day, 
 
 When by kind duty fix'd. Among the roots 645 
 
 Of hazel, pendent o'er the plaintive stream, 
 
 They frame the first foundation of their domes ; {- 
 
 Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, 
 
 And bound with clay together. Now 'tis naught 
 
 But restless hurry through the busy air, 650 
 
 Beat by unnumber'd wings. The swallow sweeps 
 
 The slimy pool, to build his hanging house 
 
 Intent. And often, from the careless back 
 
 Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills 
 
 Pluck hair and wool ; and oft, when unobserved, 655 
 
 652. Hanging house : Reference is here made to those swallows that build 
 their nest against the interior wall of a chimney, or some other perpen- 
 dicular wall, to which, by one of its sides, it is attached. That of the 
 chimney-swallow is composed of small twigs fastened together with a 
 strong glue or gum, secreted by two glands on each side of the back part 
 of the head, which mixes with the saliva. The window-swallow, or mar- 
 tin, build of mud taken from a neighboring brook, which they put on 
 about half an inch thick in the morning, leaving it till the next morning 
 that it may become dry and hard, so as to receive then a further addi- 
 tion. Thus the nest is completed in ten or twelve days. 
 
 The swallow (says Sir Humphrey Davy) is one of my favorite birds, 
 and a rival to the nightingale, for he gladdens my sense of seeing as the 
 other does my sense of hearing. He is the joyous prophet of the year, 
 the harbinger of the best season. He lives a life of enjoyment amongst 
 the loveliest forms of Nature ; winter is unknown to him, and he leaves 
 the green meadows of England in autumn for the myrtle and orange grovea 
 oi* Italy and for the palms of Africa. 
 
T6 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Steal from the barn a straw ; till soft and warm, 
 Clean and complete, their habitation grows. 
 
 PARENTAL DUTIES OF BIRDS. 
 
 As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, 
 Not to be tempted from her tender task, 
 Or by sharp hunger or by smooth delight, 660 
 
 Though the whole loosen'd Spring around her blows ; 
 Her sympathizing lover takes his stand 
 High on th' opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 
 The tedious time away ; or else supplies 
 Her place a moment, while she sudden flits 665 
 
 To pick the scanty meal. Th' appointed time 
 With pious toil fulfill'd, the callow young, 
 Warm'd and expanded into perfect life, 
 Their brittle bondage break, and come to light, 
 A helpless family, demanding food 670 
 
 With constant clamor. 0, what passions then, 
 What melting sentiments of kindly care, 
 On the new parents seize ! Away they fly 
 Affectionate, and undesiring bear 
 
 The most delicious morsel to their young; 675 
 
 Which equally distributed, again 
 The search begins. E'en so a gentle pair, 
 By fortune sunk, but form'd of generous mould, 
 And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast, 
 In some lone cot amicRhe distant woods, 680 
 
 Sustain'd alone by providential Heaven, 
 Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train, 
 Check their own appetites, and give them all. 
 
 Nor toil alone they scorn : exalting love, 
 By the great FATHER OF THE SPRING inspired, 685 
 
 Gives instant courage to the fearful race, 
 And, to the simple, art. With stealthy wing, 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest, 
 
 Amid a neighboring bush they silent drop, 
 
 And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive 690 
 
 Th' unfeeling schoolboy. Hence, around the head 
 
 Of wand'ring swain, the white-wing'd plover wheels 
 
 Her sounding flight, and then directly on 
 
 In long excursion skims the level lawn, 
 
 To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck, hence, 695 
 
 O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste 
 
 The heath-hen flutters (pious fraud !) to lead 
 
 The hot pursuing spaniel far astray. 
 
 THE BARBAROUS BIRD-CAGE, AND NEST ROBBERY./\ 
 
 Be not the Muse ashamed here to bemoan 
 Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man 700 
 
 Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage, 
 From liberty confined and boundless air. 
 Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull, 
 Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost ; 
 Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes, 705 
 
 Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. 
 then, ye friends of love and love-taught song, 
 Spare the soft tribes, this barbarous art forbear ; 
 If on your bosom innocence can win, 
 Music engage, or piety persuade. 710 
 
 But let not chief the nightingale lament 
 Her ruin'd care, too delicately Wmed 
 To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. 
 Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, 
 Th' astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest, 715 
 
 711. The idea may be thus expressed : But chiefly, or especially, let 
 not the nightingale be compelled to lament the objects of her care ruined, 
 being too delicately framed, &c. The tenderness of her maternal instinct 
 is here most pathetically portrayed. 
 
78 SPUING. 
 
 By the hard hands of unrelenting clowns 
 Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls ; 
 . ju Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping scarce 
 A / Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade ; 
 
 here, all abandon'd to despair, she sings 720 
 
 er sorrows through the night ; and, on the bough, 
 le-sitting, still at every dying fall 
 /Takes up again her lamentable strain 
 Of winding woe ; till, wide around, the woods 
 Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound. 725 
 
 THE YOUNG BIRDS TAUGHT TO FLY. 
 
 But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, 
 Ardent, disdain ; and, weighing oft their wings, 
 Demand the free possession of the sky ; 
 This one glad office more, and then dissolves 
 Parental love at once, now needless grown : 730 
 
 Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain. 
 'Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild, 
 When naught but balm is breathing through the woods, 
 With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes 
 Visit the spacious heavens, and look abroad 735 
 
 On Nature's common, far as they can see, 
 Or w r ing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs 
 Dancing about, still at the giddy verge 
 Their resolution fails ; "their pinions still, 
 In loose libration strefln'd, to trust the void 740 
 
 Trembling refuse ; till down before them fly 
 The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command, 
 Or push them off. The surging air receives 
 Its plumy burden ; and their self-taught wings 
 Winnow the waving element. On ground 745 
 
 722. Dying fall : That is, in the t<5i\es of her voice. 
 727. Weighing: Lifting. 
 
SPRING. 79 
 
 Alighted, bolder up again they lead, 
 
 Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight ; 
 
 Till vanish'd every fear, and every power 
 
 Roused into life and action, light in air 
 
 Th' acquitted parents see their soaring race, 750 
 
 And once rejoicing never know them more. 
 
 High from the summit of a craggy cliff, 
 
 Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns 
 
 On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race I 
 
 Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, J 755 
 
 The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, 
 
 Strong-pounced, and ardent with paternal fire. 
 
 Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, 
 
 He drives them from his fort, the towering seat, 
 
 For ages, of his empire ; which, in peace, 760 
 
 Unstain'd he holds ; while many a league to sea 
 
 He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF SPRING ON DOMESTIC FOWLS, ON BRUTES, AND 
 
 MONSTERS OF THE DEEP. 
 
 y *>~Z< ********} 
 
 \ Should I my steps turn to the rural seat, 
 Whose lofty elms and venerable oaks 
 
 Invite the rook, which high amid the boughs, 765 
 
 In early Spring, his airy city builds, 
 ^ And ceaseless caws amjosjve-; there, well pleased, 
 I might the various polity survey 
 Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen 
 Calls all her chirping family around, 770 
 
 Fed and defended by the fearless cock ; 
 Whose breast with ardor flames, as on he walks, 
 Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, 
 The finely checker'd duck, before her train, 
 
 754. Kilda : The most remote of the western islands of Scotland. 
 
80 SPRING. 
 
 Hows garrulous. The stately sailing swan 775 
 
 Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ; 
 And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet 
 Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle, 
 
 . Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, 
 
 / Loud threatening, reddens; while the peacock spreads 780 
 His every-color'd glory to the sun, 
 And swims in radiant majesty along. 
 O'er the whole homely scene the cooing dove 
 
 \ Flies thick in am'rous chase, and wanton rolls 
 The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 785 
 
 While thus the gentle tenants of the shade 
 Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world 
 Of brutes below rush furious into flame 
 And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins 
 The bull, deep scorch'd, the raging passion feels. 790 
 
 Of pasture sick, and negligent of food, 
 Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom, 
 While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays 
 Luxuriant shoot ; on through the mazy wood 
 Dejected wanders, nor th' enticing bud 795 
 
 Crops, though it presses on his careless sense : 
 oft, in jealous madd'ning fancy wrapp'd, 
 seeks the fight, and, idly butting, feigns 
 is rival gored in every knotty trunk. 
 Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins ; 800 
 
 Their eyes flash fury ; to the hollow'd earth, 
 Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, 
 
 792. Broom: A species of evergreen shrub, common in Britain, the 
 branches of which are made up into brooms. Its botanical name is Spar- 
 tiuiii scoparium. There is another species which, being used in dyeing 
 yellow, is called Dt/er's broom; its botanical name is Genista tinctoria. 
 The beauty of its color may be estimated by what Prof. "Wilson says of 
 it : " You have been wont to call a gold guinea or a sovereign yellow ; 
 but if you have got one in your pocket, place it on your palm, and in the 
 light of that broom is it not a dirty brown?" 
 
SPKING. 
 
 \/ 
 
 And, groaning deep, th' impetuous battl 
 , While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, 
 Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling^ 
 With this hot impulse seized in every nerve, 
 Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong. 
 ', Blows are not felt ; but, tossing high his head, 
 And by the well-known joy to distant plains 
 Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away ; 
 O'er rocks and woods and craggy mountains flies ; 
 And, neighing, on th' aerial summit takes 
 Th' exciting gale; then, steep descending, cleaves 
 The headlong torrent foaming down the hills, 
 E'en where the madness of the straiten'd stream 
 Turns in black eddies round. Such is the force 
 With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. 
 
 Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring 
 Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep. 
 > From the deep ooze and gelid cayern roused, 
 They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. 
 Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing 
 The cruel raptures of the savage kind ; 
 How by this flame their native wrath sublimed, 
 They roam, amid the fury of their heart, 
 The far resounding waste in fiercer bands, 
 And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme 
 I sing, enraptured, to the British Fair, 
 ^Forbids, and leads me to the mountain brow, 
 | Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf, 
 unhaling, healthful, the descending sun. 
 / Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, 
 1 Of various cadence ; and his sportive lambs, 
 LThis way and that convolved in friskful glee, 
 Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race 
 Invites them forth ; when swift, the signal given, 
 They start away, and sweep the massy mound 
 
 810 
 
 815 
 
 820 
 
 825 
 
 830 
 
 83? 
 
82 
 
 SPUING. 
 
 That runs around the hill ; the rampart once 
 
 Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, 
 
 When disunited Britain ever bled, 840 
 
 /Lost in eternal broil : ere yet she grew 
 I To this deep-laid, indissoluble state, 
 j Where wealth and commerce lift their golden heads, 
 / And o'er our labors liberty and law, 
 
 Impartial, watch ; the wonder of the world ! 845 
 
 What is this mighty Breath, ye sages, say, 
 
 That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard, 
 
 Instructs the fowls of heaven, and through their breast 
 
 These arts of love diffuses ? What, but God ? 
 
 Inspiring God ! who, boundless Spirit all, 850 
 
 And unremitting Energy, pervades, 
 
 Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. 
 : He ceaseless works alone ; and yet alone 
 | Seems not to work : with such perfection framed 
 \ Is this complex, stupendous scheme of things. 855 
 
 1 But, though conceal'd, to every purer eye 
 
 Th' informing Author in his works appears : 
 
 Chief lovely Spring, in thee, and thy soft scenes, 
 
 The smiling God is seen ; while water, earth, 
 
 And air attest his bounty, which exalts 860 
 
 The brute creation to this finer thought, 
 
 And annual melts their undesigning hearts 
 
 Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. 
 
 838. The hill. What hill is here meant it is not easy to determine ; 
 but, as he describes, a little further on, the landscape at and around 
 Hagley Park, the seat of Lord Lyttleton in Worcestershire, it is to be 
 presumed that he refers to the Clent Hills in that vicinity : for these, as 
 Hugh Miller states, at an early period formed one of the battle-fields on 
 which the naked Briton contended on unequal terms with the mail-envel- 
 oped Roman. 
 
 846. Breath : Here used as synonymous with spirit. 
 
 857. Informing: Life-giving. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF SPRING ON MAN. 
 
 83 
 
 Still let my song a nobler note assume, 
 And sing th' infusive force of Spring on man. 865 
 
 When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie 
 To raise his being and serene his soul, 
 Can he forbear to join the general smile 
 Of nature ? \ Can fierce passions vex his breast, 
 While every gale is peace, and every grove 870 
 
 Is melody ?\ Hence ! from the bounteous walks 
 Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth, 
 Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe, 
 Or only lavish to yourselves, away ! 
 
 But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, 875 
 Of all his works, creative Bounty burns 
 ^' With warmest beam ; and on your open front 
 
 !And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat 
 Inviting modest Want. Nor, till invoked, 
 Can restless goodness wait : your active search 880 
 
 Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplored ; 
 
 I Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft 
 The lonely heart with unexpected good. 
 For you the roving Spirit of the wind 
 Blows Spring abroad; for you the teeming clouds 885 
 Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world ; 
 And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you, 
 Ye flower of human race ! In these green days, 
 Reviving Sickness lifts her lan-guid head ; 
 
 875-6. The thought here intended to be expressed seems to be this: 
 generous men in their wide range of thought, having regard to others as 
 well as to themselves, exhibit more than any other of the works of God 
 in a more intense degree the warm benevolence of their Maker. They 
 manifest a similar bounty, originating blessings to the sons of want. Such 
 the poet iptly denominates the Flower of the human race. 
 
, 
 
 84 SPRIXG. 
 
 Life flows afresh ; and young-eyed Health exalts 890 
 
 The whole creation round. Contentment walks 
 
 The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss 
 
 Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings 
 
 To purchase. Pure serenity apace 
 
 Induces thought and contemplation still. 895 
 
 By swift degrees the love of Nature works, 
 
 And warms the bosom ; till at last, sublimed 
 
 To rapture and enthusiastic heat, 
 
 We feel the present Deity, and taste 
 
 The joy of GOD to see a happy world ! y, 900 
 
 These are the sacred feelings of thy heart, 
 ^hy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray, 
 Lyttleton, the friend ! Thy passions thus 
 
 890. Exalts. While this reading is found in all the copies I have seen, 
 the context seems to require exults as a more appropriate word. 
 
 900. Joy of God: That is, such as He feels an intense, exalted, rap- 
 turous delight. 
 
 903. Lyttleton: Lord George Lyttleton, the friend and patron of Thom- 
 son. He was a member of the British Parliament, and secretary to the 
 Prince of "Wales. This latter situation put it in his power to appoint 
 Thomson to the office of surveyor -general of the Leeward Islands, the 
 duties of which he was allowed to perform by a deputy, and the profits 
 realized were 300 per annum. It was through the influence of the same 
 noble friend that the Prince of Wales conferred upon him a pension of 
 100 a year; but in a few years it was withdrawn, in consequence of his 
 patron becoming obnoxious to the displeasure of the Prince. Being an 
 opponent of the Walpole administration, when that came to a close, he 
 was made, in 1744, one of the Lords of the Treasury; in 1755 a privy- 
 councillor ; the next year a chancellor of the exchequer, and some time 
 afterwards was raised to the peerage. As a literary man, some of his 
 poetical effusions possess merit particularly his monody to his deceased 
 wife, and his prologue to Thomson's tragedy of Coriolanus, which WLS 
 spoken by Mr. Quin, soon after Thomson's death. He was the author of 
 an elaborate history of the reign of Henry II. of England. His treatise 
 on the conversion of St. Paul still holds a high place among the best 
 works of evidence in favor of Christianity, and to which, Dr. Johnson has 
 said, infidelity has never been able to fabricate a specious answer. He 
 was a liberal patron of several literary men, and died in 1773, at the age 
 of sixty-four. The record of the last scene of his life is worth preserving 
 
SPRING. 85 
 
 And meditations vary, as at large, 
 
 Courting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou struyest, 905 
 
 Thy British Tempe ! There along the dale, 
 
 With woods o'erhung, and shagg'd with mossy rocks, 
 
 Whence on each hand the gushing waters play, 
 
 And down the rough cascade white dashing fall, 
 
 Or gleam in lengthen'd vista through the trees, 910 
 
 You silent steal ; or sit beneath the shade 
 
 Of solemn oaks, that tuft the swelling mounts, 
 
 Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand, 
 
 And pensive listen to the various voice 
 
 Of rural peace : the herds, the flocks, the birds, 915 
 
 I The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills, 
 That, purling down amid the twisted roots 
 
 He is said to have then addressed his physician in the following language : 
 " Doctor, when I first set out in the world, I had friends who endeavored 
 to shake my belief in the Christian religion. I saw difficulties which 
 staggered me; but I kept my mind open to conviction. The evidences, 
 and doctrines of Christianity, studied with attention, made me a most firm 
 and persuaded believer of the Christian religion. I have made it the rule 
 of my life, and it is the ground of my future hopes. I have erred and 
 sinned, but have repented, and never indulged any vicious habit In 
 politics and public life I have made public good the rule of my conduct. 
 I have endeavored, in private life, to do all the good in my power, and 
 never for a moment could indulge malicious or unjust designs upon any 
 person whatsoever." 
 
 He was a good man, and is not to be confounded with the second Lord 
 Lyttleton, his son the sad opposite of his father in moral character and 
 influence ; a full and interesting account of both of whom has been 
 furni.shed by Hugh Miller in his recent work, entitled " First Impress-ions 
 of England and its People." 
 
 906. The British Tempt : What the celebrated vale of Tempe was to 
 Greece, that, in the poet's estimation, was the dale of Hagley to Britain, 
 and which he now proceeds to describe in an exquisitely beautiful manner. 
 Tempe was a valley in Thessaly, having Mount Olympus on the north and 
 Mount Ossa on the south. It was only five miles long, and in some parts 
 not more than one hundred feet wide. The poets represent it as a most 
 enchanting scene, abounding in verdant walks, cool shades, and the melody 
 of birds. The accuracy of their eulogium is sustained by the reports of 
 some modern travellers. 
 
86 SPRLXG. 
 
 Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake 
 
 On the soothed ear. From these abstracted oft, 
 
 You wander through the philosophic world ; 920 
 
 Where in bright train continual wonders rise 
 
 Or to the curious or the pious eye. 
 
 And oft, conducted by historic truth, 
 
 You tread the long extent of backward time ; 
 
 Plarning, with warm benevolence of mind 925 
 
 And honest zeal, unwarp'd by party rage, 
 
 Britannia's weal ; how from the venal gulf 
 
 To raise her virtue, and her arts revive. 
 
 Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts 
 
 The Muses charm ; while, with sure taste refined, 930 
 
 You draw th' inspiring breath of ancient song ; 
 
 Till nobly rises, emulous, t^iy own. 
 
 Perhaps thy loved Lucinda shares thy walk, 
 
 933. Thy loved Lucinda : Lucy Lady Lyttleton, by whom Lord Lyttle- 
 ton had one son and two daughters, and with whom he passed about five 
 years in the highest degree of connubial happiness, as we learn from Dr. 
 Johnson, and from the lines of the poet. According to the epitaph in- 
 ecribed upon her monument, she was 
 
 Made to engage all hearts and charm all eyes ; 
 Though meek, magnanimous; though witty, wise: 
 Polite as she in courts had ever been, 
 Yet good as she the world had never seen ; 
 The noble fire of an exalted mind, 
 With gentle female tenderness combined. 
 Her speech was the melodious voice of love, 
 Her song the warbling of the vernal grove; 
 Her eloquence was sweeter than her song, 
 Soft as her heart, and as her reason strong: 
 Her form each beauty of the mind expressed; 
 Her mind was virtue by the Graces dressed. 
 
 Having quoted the above, Mr. Hugh Miller remarks, that England in the 
 eighteenth century saw few better men or better women than Lord 
 Lyttleton and his lady ; and it docs seem a curious enough fact, that their 
 only son, a boy of many hopes and many advantages, and who possessed 
 quick parts and a vigorous intellect, should have proved, notwithstanding, 
 one of the most flagitious personages of his age. The first Lord Lyttleton 
 was not more conspicuous for his genius and his virtue?, than the second 
 Lord Lyttleton for his talents and his vices. 
 
SPRING. 87 
 
 With soul to thine attuned. Then Nature all 
 
 Wears to the lover's eye a look of love ; 935 
 
 And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
 
 Toss'd by ungenerous passions, sinks away. 
 
 The tender heart is animated peace ! 
 
 And, as it pours its copious treasures forth 
 
 In varied converse, softening every theme, 940 
 
 You, frequent pausing, turn, and from her eyes, 
 
 Where meeken'd sense, and amiable grace, 
 
 And lively sweetness dwell, enraptured, drink 
 
 That nameless spirit of ethereal joy, 
 
 Unutterable happiness ! which love 945 
 
 Alone bestows, and on a favor'd few. 
 
 Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow 
 
 947-959. In 1,845, Hugh Miller, the distinguished Scotch geologist, made 
 a visit at Hagley, and has recently published a full, scientific, and enter- 
 taining account of that region. Those who may not be so fortunate as to 
 have access to that account, will appreciate the beauty and appropriate- 
 ness of the following extracts. They have the greater value in this place 
 because they serve to illustrate the text, and to give us a few incidents in 
 the life of Thomson : 
 
 " Passing through part of the garden and a small but well-kept green- 
 house, we emerged into the park, and began to ascend the hill by a narrow 
 inartificial path that winds, in alternate sunshine and shadow, as the trees 
 approach or recede through the rich moss of the lawn. Half way up the 
 ascent, where the hill- side is indented by a deep irregular semicircular 
 depression, open and grassy in the bottom and sides, but thickly garnished 
 along the rim with nohle trees, there is a semi-octagonal temple, dedi- 
 cated to the genius of Thomson, ' a sublime poet,' says the inscription, 
 ' and a good man,' who greatly loved, when living, this hollow retreat. I 
 looked with no little interest on the scenery that had satisfied so great a 
 master of landscape, and thought, though it might be but fancy, that I 
 succeeded in detecting the secret of his admiration; and that the speci- 
 alities of his taste in the case rested, as they not unfrequently do in such 
 cases, on a substratum of personal character. The green hill spread out 
 its mossy "arms around, like the arms of a well-padded easy-chair of enor- 
 mous proportions, imparting, from the complete seclusion and shelter 
 which it affords, luxurious ideas of personal security and ease ; while the 
 open part permits the eye to expatiate on an expansive and lovely 
 landscape. We see the ground immediately in front occupied by an un 
 
88 SPRING. 
 
 The bursting prospect spreads immense around ; 
 
 And, snatch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn, 
 
 And verdant field, and darkening heath between, 950 
 
 And villages embosom'd soft in trees, 
 
 And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd 
 
 Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams ; 
 
 Wide stretching from the Hall, in whose kind haunt 
 
 The hospitable Genius lingers still, 955 
 
 To where the broken landscape, by degrees 
 
 Ascending, roughens into rigid hills ; 
 
 O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds, 
 
 That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise. 
 
 even sea of tree-tops, chiefly oaks of noble size, that rise at various levels 
 on the lower slopes of the park. The clear sunshine imparted to them 
 this day exquisite variegations of fleecy light and shadow. They formed 
 a billowy ocean of green, that seemed as if wrought in floss silk. Far 
 beyond for the nearer fields of the level country are hidden by the 
 oaks lies a blue labyrinth of hedge-rows, stuck over with trees, and so 
 crowded together in the distance that they present, as has already been 
 said, a forest-like appearance ; while, still further beyond, there stretches 
 along the horizon a continuous purple screen, composed of the distant 
 highlands of Cambria, Such is the landscape which Thomson loved." 
 
 " As seen from his chosen recess, the blue of the distant hills seems 
 melting into the blue of the sky ; or as he himself better describes the 
 dim outline, 
 
 ' The Cambrian mountains, like far clouds 
 That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.' 
 
 " I passed somewhat hurriedly through glens and glades over rising 
 knolls and wooded slopes saw statues and obelisks, temples and hermit 
 ages, and lingered awhile, ere I again descended to the lawn, on the top of 
 an eminence which commands one of the richest prospects I had yet seen. 
 The landscape from this point by far too fine to have escaped the eye 
 of Thomson is described in the ' Seasons ;' and the hill which overlooks 
 it, represented as terminating one of the walks of Lyttleton and his lady 
 that Lucy Lady Lyttleton whose early death formed, but a few years 
 after, the subject of the monody so well known and so much admired in 
 the days of our great-grandmothers : 
 
 ' The beauteous bride, 
 
 To whose fair memory flowed the tenderest tear 
 That ever trembled o'er the female bier. 1 " 
 
SPRING. 89 
 
 THE MISERIES OF WILD AND IRREGULAR PASSION. 
 
 Flush'd by the spirit of the genial year, 960 
 
 Now from the virgin's cheek a fresher bloom 
 Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round ; 
 Her lips blush deeper sweets ; she breathes of youth ; 
 The shining moisture swells into her eyes, 
 In brighter flow ; her wishing bosom heaves 965 
 
 With palpitations wild ; kind tumults seize 
 Her veins, and all her yielding soul is love. 
 From the keen gaze her lover turns away, 
 Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick 
 
 With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair, 
 
 970 
 
 Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts. 
 Dare not th' infectious sigh ; the pleading look, 
 Downcast and low, in meek submission dress'd, < 
 But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue, i 
 Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth, 975 
 
 Gain on your purposed will. Nor in the bower, 
 Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, 
 While Evening draws her crimson curtains round,' 
 Trust your soft minutes with betraying man. 
 
 And let th' aspiring youth beware of love, 980 
 
 Of the smooth glance beware ; for 'tis too late, 
 When on his heart the torrent softness pours. 
 Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
 Dissolves in air away ; while the fond soul, 
 Wrapp'd in gay visions of unreal bliss, 985 
 
 Still paints th' illusive form ; the kindling grace ; j 
 Th' enticing smile ; the modest-seeming eye, 
 Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying heaven, 
 
 Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death. 
 
 J 
 
 962. Less and less: The color of the "live carnation" becomes less in- 
 tense the farther it proceeds from the centre of the cheek. 
 
 971. Sliding: Yielding liable to be drawn from a virtuous state. 
 
90 SPJKIXG. 
 
 And still, false warbling in his cheated ear, 990 
 
 Her siren voice, enchanting, draws him on 
 To guileful shores and meads of fatal joy. 
 
 E'en present, in the very lap of love 
 Inglorious laid ; while music flows around, 
 Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours ; 995 
 
 Amid the roses, fierce Repentance rears 
 Her snaky crest : a quick returning pang 
 Shoots through the conscious heart, where honor still 
 And great design, against th' oppressive load 
 Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. 1000 
 
 But absent, what fantastic woes, aroused, 
 Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed, 
 Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life ! 
 Neglected fortune flies ; and, sliding swift, 
 Prone into ruin, fall his scorn'd affairs. 1005 
 
 'Tis naught but gloom around : the darkened sun 
 Loses his light ; the rosy-bosomed Spring 
 To weeping fancy pines ; and yon bright arch, 
 Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
 All Nature fades extinct; and she alone, 1010 
 
 Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought, 
 Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 
 Books are but formal dulness, x tedious friends ; 
 And sad amid the social band he sits, 
 
 991. Siren: Fascinating and dangerous; the term being derived from 
 the classical fable of the Sirens, two maidens who dwelt upon an island, 
 and when vessels passed took their position in a mead close to the sea- 
 shore, and poured forth from their sweet voices such strains of melody as 
 caused those sailing by to leave their vessels and, forgetting country and 
 home, and every thing else, to remain until they perished with hunger. 
 
 993. E'en present: Even when he is present with the object of his 
 passionate regard and indulging his loose desires, his pleasures are dis- 
 turbed by the beginnings of Remorse. Even " amid the roses, fierce Repen- 
 tance rears her snaky crest." The next paragraph portrays the unhappy 
 condition of the libertine when absent from the object of his guilty 
 passion " the enchantress of his soul." 
 
SPRING. 91 
 
 Lonely, and inattentive. From his tongue 1015 
 
 Th' unfinished period falls ; while, borne away 
 
 On swelling thought, his wafted spirit flies 
 
 To the vain bosom of his distant fair ; 
 
 And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix'd | 
 
 In melancholy site, with head declined, 1020 
 
 And love- dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, 
 
 Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 
 
 To glimmering shades and sympathetic glooms ; (3** 
 
 Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling stream, 
 
 Romantic, hangs. There through the pensive dusk 1025 
 
 Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost, 
 
 Indulging all to love : or on the bank 
 
 Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze 
 
 With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. 
 
 Thus in soft anguish, he consumes the day, ^s^ 1030 
 
 Nor quits his deep retirement, till the moon 
 
 Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy east, 
 
 Enlightened by degrees, and in her train 
 
 Leads on the gentle Hours. Then forth he walks, 
 
 Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, 1035 
 
 With softened soul, and woos the bird of eve 
 
 To mingle woes with his ; or, while the world \ 
 
 And all the sons of Care lie hush'd in sleep, 
 
 Associates with the midnight shadows drear ; 
 
 And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours 1040 
 
 His idly-tortured heart into the page, 
 
 Meant for the moving messenger of love ; 
 
 Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 
 
 With rising frenzy fired. But if on bed 
 
 Delirious flung, sleep from his pillow flies ;>^ 1045 
 
 All night he tosses, nor the balmy power 
 
 In any posture finds ; till the gray morn 
 
 Lifts her pale lustre on the paler wretch, | \ 
 
 Exanimate by love ; and then perhaps 
 
92 SPRING. 
 
 Exhausted Nature sinks a while to rest, 1050 
 
 Still interrupted by distracted dreams, 
 
 That o'er the sick imagination rise, 
 
 And in black colors paint the mimic scene. 
 
 Oft with th' enchantress of his soul he talks ; 
 
 Sometimes in crowds distressed ; or, if retired 1055 
 
 To secret winding, flower- enwoven bowers, 
 
 Far from the dull impertinence of man, 
 
 Just as he, credulous, his endless cares 
 
 Begins to lose in blind oblivious love, 
 
 Snatch'd from her yielded hand, he knows not how, 1060 
 
 Through forests huge, and long untravell'd heaths 
 
 With desolation brown, he wanders waste, 
 
 In night and tempest wrapped ; or shrinks aghast, 
 
 Back, from the bending precipice ; or wades 
 
 The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 1065 
 
 The further shore ; where succorless and sad, 
 
 She with extended arms his aid implores ; 
 
 But strives in vain. Borne by th' outrageous flood 
 
 To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave, 
 
 Or, whelm'd beneath the boiling eddy, sinks. 1070 
 
 THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY. 
 
 These are the charming agonies of love, 
 Whose misery delights. But through the heart, 
 Should jealousy its venom once diffuse, 
 'Tis then delightful misery no more, 
 
 But agony unmix' d, incessant gall, 10 75 
 
 Corroding every thought, and blasting all 
 Love's paradise. Ye fairy prospects, then, 
 Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy, 
 Farewell ! ye gleamings of departed peace, 
 Shine out your last! the yellow-tinging plague 1080 
 
 Internal vision taints, and in a night 
 
SPRING. 93 
 
 Of livid gloom imagination wraps. 
 
 Ah ! then, instead of love-enliven'd cheeks, 
 
 Of sunny features, and of ardent eyes, 
 
 With flowing rapture bright, dark looks succeed, 1085 
 
 Suffused and glaring with un tender fire, 
 
 A clouded aspect, and a burning cheek, 
 
 Where the whole poison'd soul, malignant, sitsj 
 
 And frightens love away. Ten thousand fears 1 
 
 Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 1090 
 
 Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms 
 
 For which he melts in fondness, eat him up 
 
 With fervent anguish and consuming rage. 
 
 In vain reproaches lend their idle aid, 
 
 Deceitful pride, and resolution frail, 1095 
 
 Giving false peace a moment. Fancy pours, 
 
 Afresh, her beauties on his busy thought, 
 
 Her first endearments twining round the soul, 
 
 With all the witchcraft of ensnaring love. 
 
 Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew, 1100 
 
 Flames through the nerves, and boils along the veins ; -^IH 
 
 While anxious doubt distracts the tortured heart ; 
 
 For e'en the sad assurance of his fears 
 
 Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth, 
 
 Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, 1105 
 
 Through flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life 
 
 Of fever'd rapture or of cruel care ; 
 
 His brightest flames extinguish'd all, and all 
 
 His lively moments running down to waste. 
 
 THE JOYS OF VIRTUOUS AND WEDDED LOVE. 
 
 But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! 1110 
 
 Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
 
 1106. Or: Either. 
 
 1111. Gentler stars unite : The expression will be understood when it 
 
94: SPRING. 
 
 Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
 
 "Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 
 
 Unnatural oft and foreign to the mind, 
 
 That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 1115 
 
 Attuning all their passions into love ; 
 
 (Where friendship full exerts her softest power, 
 Perfect esteem enliven'd by desire 
 Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; 
 
 Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 1120 
 With boundless confidence : for naught but love 
 Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 
 Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
 To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
 The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 1125 
 
 Well merited, consume his nights and days. 
 Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
 Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they feel ; 
 Let eastern tyrants from the light of heaven, 
 Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possessed 1130 
 
 Of a mere lifeless, violated form ; 
 While those, whom love cements in holy faith, 
 And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
 Disdaining fear. W T hat is the world to them, 
 Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all, 1135 
 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High Fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish ; 
 Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
 
 is regarded as borrowed from the now exploded doctrine of Astrology, 
 which affirms that the course of human life is affected and determined by 
 the relative position of the stars, the sun, and planets, at one's birth, or 
 at any other critical period of life. Hence, poetically, the gentler stars 
 those which exert a benignant influence, are here described as bringing 
 about a happy union. 
 
 1120. Preventing : Going before, anticipating the wish of the one 
 party being not only met, but even anticipated, by the corresponding vo- 
 lition of the other party. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 95 
 
 /fdfefc 
 
 v-X~f-tst 
 
 1150 
 
 Or on the mind, or mind-illumined face ; / 
 
 Truth, goodness, honor, harmony, and love, i!40 
 
 The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 
 
 Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 
 
 And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
 
 The human blossom blows ; and every day, 
 
 Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, I 1145 
 
 The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 
 
 Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
 
 For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
 
 Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 
 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot, 
 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 
 To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
 
 Oh, speak the joy ! ye, whom the sudden tear 
 
 Surprises often, while you look around, 
 
 And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bli& 
 
 .. - &-- J~ . o. ^ 
 
 All various Nature pressing on the heart. 
 
 JAn elegant sufficiency, content, 
 
 ^Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
 I Ease and alternate labor, useful life, 
 
 Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven ; 
 | These are the matchless joys of virtuous love. 
 I And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 
 l As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 
 
 Still find them happy; and consenting SPRING 1165 
 
 Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : 
 
 Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; 
 
 When after the long vernal day of life, 
 
 1155 
 
 1160 
 
 1149-1163. These beautiful lines give us Thomson's conception ot tho 
 elements of a happy life, some of which he was debarred from realizing 
 in his own experience by certain reasons which induced him to remain a 
 bachelor. The educational process is described with great felicity 
 
96 SPRING. 
 
 Enamored more, as more remembrance swells, 
 With many a proof of recollected love, 1170 
 
 ^Together down they sink in social sleep ; 
 (Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
 To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 
 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 INTEODUCTOEY EEMAEKS. 
 
 THE period of Summer is marked by fewer and less striking 
 changes than Spring in the face of Nature. A soft and pleas- 
 ing languor, interrupted only by the gradual progression of the 
 vegetable and animal tribes towards their state of maturity, forms 
 the leading character of this season. The active fermentation 
 of the juices, which the first access of genial warmth had ex- 
 cited, now subsides ; and the increasing heats rather inspire 
 faintness and inaction than lively exertions. The insect races 
 alone seem animated with peculiar vigor under the more direct 
 influence of the sun ; and are therefore with equal truth and 
 advantage introduced by the poet to enliven the silent and 
 drooping scenes presented by the other forms of animal nature. 
 As this source, however, together with whatever else our sum- 
 mers afford, is insufficient to furnish novelty and business enough 
 for this act of the drama of the year, the poet judiciously opens 
 a new field, profusely fertile in objects suited to the glowing col- 
 ors of descriptive poetry. By an easy and natural transition he 
 quits the chastised summer of the temperate clime of Britain for 
 those regions where a perpetual Summer reigns, exalted by such 
 superior degrees of solar heat as give an entirely new face to 
 almost every part of nature. The terrific grandeur prevalent 
 in some of these, the exquisite richness and beauty in others, 
 and the novelty in all, afford such a happy variety for the poet's 
 selection, that we need not wonder if some of his noblest pieces 
 are the product of this delightful excursion. 
 
 5 
 
100 SUMMER INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 He returns, however, with apparent satisfaction, to take a last 
 survey of the softer summer of the island of Britain ; and, after 
 closing the prospect of terrestrial beauties, artfully shifts the 
 scene to celestial splendors, which, though perhaps not more 
 striking in this season than in some of the others, are now alone 
 agreeable objects of contemplation in a northern climate. 
 
 AIKIN. 
 
 Summer is the manhood of the year. Its powers are devel- 
 oped ; its vigor is fresh ; its plans are matured : it is in the full 
 flush of beauty, and buoyant with the joy and bustle of exist- 
 ence. Turn where we will, there are proofs of operations begun 
 and in progress, which indicate design, wisdom, and activity ; 
 of an infancy and youth spent in preparation, and ending in 
 settled purposes reduced to practice, and useful employments 
 industriously prosecuted. Such is the general character of this 
 season ; and when we take a more accurate survey of particu- 
 lars, a thousand delightful illustrations occur, all leading us to 
 the same sublime conclusion, that the natural operations which 
 are silently proceeding around us, are the work of a present 
 Deity, and a reflection of his attributes. In the sacred poetry 
 of the Hebrews (particularly in the hundred and fourth Psalm), 
 we meet with many solemn and beautiful views, which show 
 how much alive the inspired writers were to such impressions. 
 
 There is a pleasure peculiar to Spring in the contemplation 
 of Nature rising, as it were, from the tomb, and bursting into 
 life, and light, and joy ; but that which belongs to Summer is 
 not less intense, although of a different kind. The delight of 
 this season arises from the view of the full development or suc- 
 cessful progress of the powers and processes which in Spring 
 began to operate. The plants which had just pierced the earth 
 in the commencement of that season have now shot forth their 
 stalks, and expanded their blades, and opened their beautiful 
 flowers to the sun ; the trees rejoice in their leafy pride ; the 
 fields luxuriate in the abundance of their vegetable stores ; and 
 
8UMMEK INTKODFGTC'KY ^E^LM^-S. 101 
 
 animated Nature is instinct with life and enjoyment. The whole 
 scene is full of delight ; but it is only when it is associated with 
 religious feelings, and when it raises the mind to a Father Being, 
 who called all this loveliness into existence, and whose unseen 
 presence and mysterious energies cheer and bless the world He 
 has made, that it can be enjoyed with its highest and most ap- 
 propriate relish. 'It is this pious sentiment which gives such 
 sublime beauty to the " Hymn on the Seasons" (at the close of 
 this volume) ; and perhaps there is no part of that hymn which 
 more successfully expresses the tenderness and devout admiration 
 of a rightly constituted mind, in contemplating the wonders of 
 Nature, than that which refers to Summer. 
 
 DUNCAN. 
 
THE AEGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed. Invocation. Address to Mr. Doddington. An introductory 
 reflection on the motion of the heavenly bodies ; whence the succession of the sea- 
 sons. As the face of Nature in this season is almost uniform, the progress of the 
 poem is a description of a summer's day. The dawn. Sun-rising. Hymn to the 
 sun. Forenoon. Summer insects described. Hay-making. Sheep-shearing. Noon- 
 day. A woodland retreat. Group of herds and flocks. Ajsolemn grovgj^how. it 
 affects a contemplative mind. A cataract, and rude scene. View of Summer in tho 
 tojSid^neT :::: Storrn of thuncfer and lightning. A tale. The storm over, a serene 
 afternoon. Bathing. Hour of walking. Transition to the prospect of a rich, well-cul- 
 tivated country; which introduces a panegyric on Great Britain. Sunset Evening. 
 Night Summer meteors. A comet The whole concluding with the praise of phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 FROM brightening fields of ether fair disclosed, 
 
 Child of the Sun, refulgent SUMMER comes, 
 
 ! 
 In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth.; 
 
 He comes attended by the sultry Hours, 
 And ever-fanning Breezes, on his way ; 
 While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring 
 Averts, her blushful face, and earth and skies, 
 All smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. 
 
 1-8. Who can fail to admire the beautiful personification of Summer 
 in these lines, so far superior to the personification of Spring at the com- 
 mencement of the poem ? Most appropriately is Summer described as 
 the " child of the Sun," and as coming " from brightening fields of ether" 
 (used by Thomson in the ^sense of atmosphere) : since, as a season, it 
 owes its distinguishing features to the advancing light and heat of the 
 
104 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Hence, let me haste into the midwood shade, 
 . Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom ; 10 
 And, on the dark-green grass, beside the brink 
 I Of haunted stream that by the roots of oak 
 Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, 
 And sing the glories of the circling year. 
 
 Come, Inspiration ! from thy hermit-seat, 15 
 
 / By mortal seldom found : may fancy dare, 
 
 sun. It is also characterized as being " in the pride of youth," the dif- 
 ferent seasons beginning with Spring, bearing a close and striking anal- 
 ogy, in their order, to the four grand periods of human life. His at- 
 tendants are the sultry Hours and ever-fanning Breezes ; while Spring 
 modestly turns away her face from his ardent look, and resigns the 
 earth and skies to his " hot dominion." 
 
 6-8. If Winter, according to the poet, mingles at first so much with 
 Spring as to render it doubtful if the reign of the latter be commenced 
 
 " so that scarce 
 
 The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf d, 
 To shake the sounding marsh ; or, from the shore, 
 The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 
 And sing their wild-notes to the listening waste" 
 
 so it must be difficult to say when Spring ceases, and Summer comes ; 
 but the figurative Thomson reads this at once in the averted and blush- 
 ing face of the virgin Spring, who modestly retires and makes way for 
 her ardent successor. 
 
 This is a remark of Allan Cunningham, but is not strictly applicable to 
 the text, though Thomson, for the sake of consistency and nature, should 
 have made his text conformable to it by impersonating Spring as a 
 female. ' Prof. Wilson playfully alludes to the matter in these terms : 
 " The poet, having made Summer masculine, makes Spring so too, which 
 we cannot help thinking a flaw in this jewel of a picture. Ladies alone 
 should avert their blushful faces from the ardent looks of gentlemen. 
 Spring, in the character of * ethereal Mildness,' was unquestionably a 
 female, but here she is ' unsexed from the crown to the toe.' For Spring 
 to avert his blushful face from the ardent looks of Summer, has on us 
 the effect of making both seasons seem simpletons." 
 
 12. Haunted stream: Stream frequented by fairies, ghosts, and other 
 imaginary beings that fancy and superstition have begotten. 
 
 15. Inspiration: An imaginary divinity, to whom, with the license of 
 a poet, he looks for poetic spirit, invention, and skill in the construction 
 of his verse. It is more common, for such a purpose, to address tho 
 Muse ; and to her, indeed, the author refers in the twenty-first line. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 105 
 
 From thy fix'd, serious eye, and raptured glance 
 Shot on surrounding heaven, to steal one look 
 Creative of the Poet, every power 
 Exalting to an ecstasy of soul. 
 
 And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend, 
 In whom the human graces all unite : 
 Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart ; 
 Genius, and wisdom ; the gay social sense, 
 By decency chastised ; goodness and wit, 
 In seldom-meeting harmony combined ; 
 Unblemish'd honor, and an active zeal 
 For Britain's glory, liberty, and man ; 
 Doddington ! attend my rural song, 
 Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 
 And teach me to deserve thy just applause. 
 
 With what an awful world-revolving power, \ 
 Were first th' unwieldy planets launch'd - 1 
 
 I Th' illimitable void ! thus to remain, 
 Amid the flux of many thousand years, 
 That oft has swept the toiling race of men 
 And all their labor'd monuments away ; 
 Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course ; 
 To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, 
 And of the seasons ever stealing round, 
 
 J Minutely faithful. Such th' All-perfect Hand, < 
 That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole 
 
 20 
 
 25 
 
 Ji*s^** 
 
 30 
 
 35 
 
 40 
 U rv ^J 
 
 29. Doddington : The character and standing of this gentleman are 
 fully drawn in the above lines, and also, perhaps with considerable ex- 
 aggeration, in the Dedication originally prefixed to this part of the 
 poem. It is to be conceded that Thomson, for the sake of needed pat- 
 ronage, condescended to imitate the then common but undignified prac- 
 tice of sending forth a poem under the auspices of a highly compliment- 
 ary and flattering dedication. Hazlitt tells us, however, that Thomson 
 on his death-bed expressed a wish that this dedication had been ex 
 punged. 
 
 41. Minutely faithful : Among the wonders of Astronomy, and of 
 
106 SUMMER. 
 
 When now no more th' alternate Twins are fired, 
 And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, 
 Short is the doubtful empire of the night : 45 
 
 .And soon, observant, of approaching day, 
 
 THE CHARMS OF EARLY MORN. 
 
 jr. 
 
 ^/ )The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews, 
 /\| At first faint gleaming in the dappled east ; 
 
 Divine Power and Wisdom, is the fact here noted, that notwithstanding 
 the magnificence of the scale on which the celestial bodies move the 
 vast spaces in which they perform their revolutions there is yet such 
 wonderful exactness and order, that their positions at any assigned 
 period can be unerringly calculated. Thomson particularly refers to the 
 wise arrangement for securing the alternation of day and night (by the 
 diurnal motion of the earth), and for securing the change of seasons (by 
 its annual motion). The calculation of the eclipses of the sun and moon, 
 and of Jupiter's satellites, that may be made for years and ages in ad- 
 vance, and the times of which shall be exactly verified by the event, 
 prove the matchless order that prevails amid the apparent irregularities 
 and complexities of the Solar System. 
 
 43. Alternate Twins : Gemini, that constellation of the Zodiac which 
 the sun appears to enter about the 21st of May. It is distinguished by 
 two bright stars called Castor and Pollux, whence the constellation re- 
 ceived its name. The epithet alternate is not descriptive of these stars, 
 but merely allusive to the classical fable of the twin-brothers whose 
 names are given to these stars and to the constellation in which they are 
 found. Castor having been slain, Pollux bewailed his loss. Having in 
 prayer spread out his griefs before Jupiter, the choice was proposed to 
 him of being himself elevated to Olympus and sharing with Mars and 
 Minerva the pleasures of the gods constantly, or of dividing them with 
 his deceased brother Castor and Pollux spending day and day alter- 
 nately in heaven and beneath the earth. Pollux chose the latter arrange- 
 ment, and thus generously resigned to his brother the enjoyment of 
 heaven every alternate day. 
 
 44. Cancer (the Crab) : That constellation which the Sun appears to 
 enter about the 21st of June, when the nights are shortest, and when it 
 is of doubtful propriety to speak of the "empire" of the night at all 
 In the high latitude of Britain, the evening twilight extends to so late an 
 hour in* the night, and the morning twilight commences at so early an 
 hour in the morning, that not more, perhaps, than three hours can be de- 
 nominated night 
 
SUMMER. 107 
 
 \ Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, 
 
 I And, from before the lustre of her face, 50 
 
 / White break the clouds away. With quicken'd step, 
 
 Brown Night retires ; young Day pours in apace, 
 
 And opens all the lawny prospect wide. 
 
 The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, 
 
 Swell on the sight, and brighten with the daAvn. 55 
 
 Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine, 
 
 And from the bladed field the fearful hare 
 
 Limps, awkward ; while along the forest glade, 
 
 The wild deer trip, and often turning, gaze 
 
 At early passenger. Music awakes 60 
 
 The native voice of undissembled joy ; 
 
 And thick around the woodland, hymns arise. 
 
 Roused by the cock, the soon- clad shepherd leaves 
 s His mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells ; 
 
 And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 65 
 
 His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn. 
 Falsely luxurious ! will not man awake, 
 
 47. A most beautiful line ! The meek-eyed Morn is called the mother 
 of dews because the Dews are most copious in the earliest hours of morn 
 in the morning twilight. 
 
 51-66. Amid the landscape glow of this season, there are many pic- 
 tures of individual loveliness which stand distinct and alone : that of the 
 morning is as true as it is clear. C. 
 
 52. Brown Night : The fitness of this epithet, instead of black, will be 
 discovered by reference to note on 44. The personification of Night and 
 Day gives to the description great vivacity and beauty. 
 
 67-80. Falsely luxurious, (fee. : The appeal to the indolent expressed 
 in these lines is an eloquent and just one, but generally, alas ! unheeded 
 by those whose business does not require them to leave the bed at so 
 early an hour. The poet, if report be true, did not sufficiently feel the 
 force of it to act upon it, but was a " falsely luxurious man." u Never 
 before or since" (Hugh Miller remarks) " was there a man of genius 
 wrought out of such mild and sluggish elements as the bard of the 
 * Seasons: A listless man was James Thomson ; kindly-hearted ; much 
 loved by all his friends; little given to think of himself; 'more fat 
 than "Jwee^L beseems.' And to Hagley he used to come, as Shenstone 
 
108 SUMMER. 
 
 And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
 
 To meditation due and sacred song ? ?0 
 
 For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise 
 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life ? 
 
 (Total extinction of th' enlightened soul !) 
 
 Or else, to feverish vanity alive, 75 
 
 Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams ? 
 
 Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
 
 Longer than Nature craves ; when every Muse 
 
 And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
 
 To bless the wildly devious morning walk ? 80 
 
 
 THE POWERFUL KING OF DAY. 
 
 But yonder comes the powerful King of day, 
 Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
 Betoken glad. Lo ! now, apparent all, 85 
 
 Aslant the dew-bright earth, and color'd air, 
 He looks in boundless majesty abroad ; 
 
 tells us, in a hired chaise, drawn by two horses ranged lengthwise, to lie 
 a-bed till long past raid-day, because he had 'no motive' to rise ; and to 
 browse in the gardens on the sunny side of the peaches, with his hands 
 stuck in his pockets." Let not this account of the author detract, how- 
 ever, from the legitimate influence of his admirable appeal in behalf of 
 early -rising ; and let it be remembered that no corporeal habit should be 
 more earnestly and deservedly recommended to be formed in early life. 
 Biography teems with examples of the great achievements wrought in 
 art, science, literature, and religion in consequence of the formation of 
 this habit. Life is too short to waste any of it beyond what Nature 
 craves, " in dead oblivion." 
 
 78. Every Muse : The idea is, that an early walk will afford to the 
 poet some happy images and thoughts will give an impulse to compose 
 in lofty verse. 
 
.-. 
 
 09 
 
 v*u***~3 
 
 And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays 
 On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams) 
 High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light ! 1 90 
 Of all material beings first and best ! 
 Efflux divine ! Nature's resplendent robe ! 
 Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapp'd 
 In unessential gloom ! and thou, Sun ! 
 Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 95 
 
 Shines out thy Maker ! may I sing of thee ? 
 'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
 As with a chain indissoluble bound, 
 Thy system rolls entire ; from the far bourne 
 Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 100 
 
 92. Efflux divine: Or, as Milton more fully denominates it, "bright 
 effluence of bright essence increate." The entire description of the blind 
 bard may with great advantage to the reader be here subjoined : 
 
 Hail, holy Light ! offspring of heaven first-born, 
 
 Or of th' Eternal coeternal beam 
 
 May I express thee, unblamed ? Since God is light, 
 
 And never but in unapproached light 
 
 Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 
 
 Bright effluence of bright essence iucreate. 
 
 Or nearest thou rather pure ethereal stream, 
 
 Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, 
 
 Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice 
 
 Of God, as with a mantle didst invest 
 
 The rising world of waters dark and deep, 
 
 "Won from the void and formless infinre. 
 
 Par. Lost, Bk. III. 
 
 100. Utmost Saturn : When this poem was written (1727), no planet 
 more remote than Saturn had been discovered. Herschel and Neptune 
 have since been brought to view, wheeling their vastly more magnificent 
 rounds. While the revolution of Saturn requires 10,759 days, that of 
 Herschel embraces 30,759, and Neptune occupies 60,128. Each of these 
 two latter planets has a diameter of 35,000 English miles ; that of Saturn 
 being 79,000. The mean distances from the sun at which these planets 
 describe their enormous orbits may be profitably adduced, to give us 
 more just conceptions " of the strong, attractive force" of the sun. Sat- 
 urn revolves at the distance of 900,000,000 miles ; Herschel, 1,800,000,000 ; 
 Neptune, 2,850,000,000. How appropriately does the poet denominate 
 the Sun the powerful King of day, drawing those stupendous bodies, amf 
 
110 SUMMER. 
 
 Of thirty years, to Mercury, whoso disR 
 Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, 
 Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 
 Informer of the planetary train ! 
 
 Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs 105 
 Were brute, unlovely mass, inert and dead, 
 And not, as now, the green abodes of life ! 
 How many forms of being wait on thee, 
 Inhaling spirit, from th' unfettered mind, 
 By thee sublimed, down to the daily race, 110 
 
 The mixing myriads of thy setting beam ! 
 The vegetable world is also thine, 
 
 O ' 
 
 Parent of Seasons ! which the pomp precede, 
 
 That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domain, 
 
 Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, 115 
 
 In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. 
 
 Meantime th' expecting nations, circled gay 
 
 With all the various tribes of foodful earth, 
 
 Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up 
 
 A common hymn ; while, round the beaming car, t 120 
 
 High seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance, 
 
 preventing them, by his attractive force, from abandoning, in their rapid 
 course, the comprehensive curves assigned them ! 
 
 104. Informer, &c. : The meaning of this term as used here, and by 
 poets generally, is that of animating principle, proximate source of life 
 or the instrument by which vitality is communicated to the planetary 
 worlds, or by which they are made " the green abodes of life." The 
 same idea has been given above in the expression, " Soul of surrounding 
 worlds," and is illustrated at length in this and several succeeding para- 
 graphs. 
 
 113-129. Parent of Seasons : The apparent march of the sun in the 
 ecliptic gives us our seasons. It is here represented as a triumphal pro- 
 cession. The Sun is making an annual tour in his beaming car, as a royal 
 benefactor, with great pomp and majesty. Above and around, the Sea- 
 sons are leading, in sprightly dance and harmonious union, the rosy-fin- 
 gered Hours, the Zephyrs, the Rains, the Dews, and the milder Storms. 
 The passage owes its great beauty to the skilful use of the figure of 
 Personification, applied to the Sun, the Seasons, the Hours, <fec. 
 
SUMMER. Ill 
 
 Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger'd Hours, ' ' 
 
 The Zephyrs floating loose, the timely Rains, 
 
 Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews, 
 
 And soften'd into joy the surly Storms. 125 
 
 These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, 
 f Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, 
 I Herbs, flowers, and fruits ; till, kindling at thy touch, 
 
 From land to land is flush'd the vernal year. 
 
 Nor to the surface of enliven'd earth, 130 
 
 Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, 
 
 Her liberal tresses, is thy force confined ; 
 
 But, to the bowell'd cavern darting deep, 
 
 The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. 
 ^j^Effulgent, hence the veiny marble shines ; 135 
 
 Hence Labor draws his tools ; hence burnish'd War 
 
 Gleams on the day ; the nobler works of Peace 
 
 Hence bless mankind, and generous Commerce binds 
 
 The round of nations in a golden chain. 
 
 Th' unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee, 140 
 
 129. Is flushed the vernal year: Is made to burst forth the year in 
 Spring : the year is arrayed in the gay abundance of her Spring 
 season. 
 
 133. The poet rather exaggerates the power of the Sun, by ascribing 
 to it the metallic and mineral riches beneath the surface of the earth. 
 His theory also of the formation of the diamond (140-1) is a mere poeti- 
 cal fancy. Its surpassing brilliancy justifies, however, the author in de- 
 fining it " collected light." Its superior hardness proves also its com- 
 pactness. Next to the diamond in hardness and value is the Ruby (147); 
 its color being a bright red, sometimes tending to a violet. The Sapphire 
 (149), another valuable stone, from its bluish, azure hue, is not unaptly 
 denominated solid ether. Those that follow are sufficiently described by 
 our author: yet in regard to the Opal (156), a word of explanation may 
 be needed. The statement is, that all the several rays of the sun com- 
 bined play through the opal : that is, the opal in a certain position trans- 
 mits white light, whereas the other precious stones (except the diamond) 
 transmit only a portion of the sunbeam some the green, <fcc. The 
 opal in another site, or position, reflects to the eye a variety of delicate 
 hues. 
 
112 SDMMEE. 
 
 In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 
 The lively Diamond drinks thy purest rays, 
 Collected light, compact ; that, polish'd bright, 
 ( And all its native lustre let abroad, 
 
 Dares, as it sparkles on the fair one's breast, 145 
 
 With vain ambition emulate her eyes. 
 At thee the Ruby lights its deepening glow, 
 And with a waving radiance inward flames. 
 From thee the Sapphire, solid ether, takes 
 Its hue cerulean ; and, of evening tinct, 150 
 
 The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine. 
 With thy own smile the yellow Topaz burns. 
 Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, 
 When first she gives it to the southern gale, 
 Than the green Emerald shows. But, all combined, 155 
 Thick through the whitening Opal play thy beams ; 
 Or, flying several from its surface, form 
 A trembling variance of revolving hues, 
 As the site varies in the gazer's hand. 
 
 The very dead creation, from thy touch, 160 
 
 Assumes a mimic life. By thee refined, 
 In brighter mazes the relucent stream 
 Plays o'er the mead. Tne precipice abrupt, 
 Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, 
 Softens at thy return. The desert joys, 165 
 
 Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. 
 Rude ruins glitter ; and the briny deep, 
 Seen from some pointed promontory's top, 
 Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, "' 
 Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, 170 
 
 And all the much transported Muse can sing, 
 Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, 
 
 150. The Amethyst is of evening tinct, or of the color that early evening 
 assumes. 
 
SUMMER. 113 
 
 Unequal far ; great delegated source 
 
 Of ]ight, and life, and grace, and joy below ! 
 
 THE ETERNAL CAUSE, SUPPORT, AND END OF CREATION. X 
 
 How shall I then attempt to sing of HIM, 175 
 
 Who, LIGHT HIMSELF, in uncreated light 
 Invested deep, dwells awfully retired Ww 
 
 From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken ! 
 Whose single smile has, from the first of time, 
 Fill'd overflowing, all those lamps of heaven, 180 
 
 That beam forever through the boundless sky : 
 But, should He hide his face, th' astonish'd sun 
 And all th' extinguished stars would loosening reel 
 Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again. &^~ 
 /And yet was ev'ry faltering tongue of man, 185 
 
 ALMIGHTY FATHER ! silent in thy praise ; 
 Thy Works themselves would raise a general voice, 
 E'en in the depth of solitary woods 
 By human foot untrod ; proclaim thy power, 
 And to the choir celestial THEE resound, 190 
 
 Th' eternal cause, support, and end of all ! 
 
 T2jn&-hfi Nature's volume broad display'd ; 
 And to peruse its all-instructing page, 
 Or, haply catching inspiration thence, 
 
 Some easy passage raptured to translate, 195 
 
 My sole delight ; as through the falling glooms 
 Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn 
 On Fancy's eagle wing excursive soar. 
 
 178-180. I cannot forbear to call the attention of the reader to the 
 original and exquisite manner in which the illumination of the heavenly 
 bodies is here accounted for. The conception is one that none but a man 
 of poetic genius could have formed, and so happily expressed 
 
114 SUMMER. 
 
 THE SUMMER FORENOON. 
 
 Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun \ 
 Melts into limpid air 'the high-raised clouds, 
 And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills 
 
 jx In partvj-cplpr'd bands ; till wide unveil'd, 
 
 The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, 
 Far stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere. 
 Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, 
 [Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires ; 
 There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, 
 By gelid founts and careless rills to muse ; 
 While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky, 
 With rapid sway, his burning influence darts 
 On man and beast, and herb and tepid stream. 
 Who can unpitying see the flowery race, 
 Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, 
 Before the parching beam ? So fade the fair, 
 When fevers revel through their azure veins. 
 But one, the lofty follower of the sun, 
 Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, 
 Drooping all night ; and, when he warm returns, 
 Points her enamor'd bosom to his ray. 
 
 Home, from his morning task, the swain retreats, 
 His flock before him stepping to the fold ; 
 While the full-udder'd mother lows around 
 The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, 
 The food of innocence and health ! The daw, 
 
 '/'The rook and magpie, to the gray-grown oaks 
 That the calm village in their verdant arms, 
 Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight ; 
 Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, 
 All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. 
 
 216. One: The sun-flower. 
 
SUMMEE. 115 
 
 Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene ; 230 
 
 - And, in a corner of the buzzJBgL.shadjey 
 The house-dog with the vacant grayhound lies, 
 Outstretch'd and sleepy. In his slumbers one 
 Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults 
 O'er hill and dale; till, waken'd by the wasp, 235 ' 
 
 They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain 
 To let the little noisy summer race 
 Live in her lay, and flutter through her song ; 
 Not mean though simple. To the sun allied, 
 From him they draw their animating fire. 240 
 
 SUMMER INSECTS. 
 
 Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young 
 Come wing'd abroad ; by the light air upborne, 
 Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink, 
 And secret corner, where they slept away 
 The wintry storms ; or, rising from their tombs, 245 
 
 To higher life ; by myriads, forth at once, 
 Swarming they pour ; of all the varied hues 
 Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose, 
 Ten thousand forms, ten thousand different tribes 
 People the blaze. To sunny waters some 250 
 
 By fatal instinct fly ; where on the pool 
 They sportive wheel : or, sailing down the stream, 
 Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-eyed trout, 
 Or darting salmon. Through the greenwood glade, 
 Some love to stray ; there lodged, amused, and fed, 255 
 In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make 
 The meads their choice, and visit every flower 
 And every latent herb ; for the sweet task 
 To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, 
 In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed, 260 
 
 Employs their tender care. Some to the house, 
 
116 SUMMER. 
 
 The fold and dairy, hungry, bend their flight ; 
 
 Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheesei 
 
 Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream 
 
 They meet their fate ; or, weltering in the bowl, 265 
 
 With powerless wings around them wrapp'd, expire. 
 
 But_cliief_to heedless flies, the window proves 
 A constant death ; where gloomily retired, 
 The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce, 
 (Mixture abhorr'd !) Amid a mangled heap 2*70 
 
 Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, 
 Overlooking all his waving snares around. 
 Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft 
 Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front. 
 The prey at last ensnared, he dreadful darts, 275 
 
 With rapid glide, along the leaning line ; 
 And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, 
 Strikes backward, grimly pleased. The fluttering wing 
 And shriller sound declare extreme distress, 
 And ask the helping, hospitable hand. 280 
 
 "Resounds the living surface of the ground ; 
 Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum 
 To him who muses through the woods at noon ; 
 Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclined, 
 With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 285 
 
 Of willows gray, close crowding o'er the brook. 
 
 Gradual from these what numerous kinds descend, 
 Evading e'en the microscopic eye ! 
 Full Nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 
 Of animals, or atoms organized, 290 
 
 Waiting the vital breath, when parent Heaven 
 Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, 
 In putrid streams, emits the living cloud 
 Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells, 
 Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, 295 
 Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 117 
 
 Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, 
 
 Within its winding citadel, the stone 
 
 Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, 
 
 That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, 
 
 The downy orchard, and the melting pulp 
 
 Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed 
 
 Of evanescent insects. Where the pool 
 
 Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, 
 
 Amid the floating verdure millions stray. 
 
 Each liquid too, whether it pierces, soothes, 
 
 Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, 
 
 With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream 
 
 Of purest crystal, nor the jucid air, 
 
 Though one transparent vacancy it seems, 
 
 Yoid of their unseen people. These, concealed 
 
 By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
 
 The grosser eye of man ; for, if the worjds 
 
 In worlds inclosed should on his senses burst, 
 
 From cates ambrosial, and the Agctar'jJL bowl, 
 
 He would abhorrent turn ; and in dead night, ^ 
 
 When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise, 
 
 300 
 
 305 
 
 310 
 
 315 
 
 NOTHING FORMED IN VAIN OR WITHOUT A WISE PURPOSE. 
 
 RPOSE 
 
 c. 
 
 320 
 
 Let no presuming, impious railer tax 
 CREATIVE WISDOM, as if aught was formed 
 In vain, or not for admirable ends. 
 Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce 
 His works unwise, of which the smallest part 
 Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind ? 
 As if upon a full-proportion'd dome, 
 
 315. Cates: Rich food. Ambrosial: Delightful to the taste and smell ; 
 from ambrosia, the food of the gods, according to classical fi?"ble. Ncc- 
 tar'd bowl : Bowl supplied with delicious drink, fit for the god* -as nectar 
 was the name of the liquor supposed to be drank by them. 
 
118 SUMMER. 
 
 On swelling columns heaved, the pride of artM 325 
 
 A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
 
 An inch around, with blind presumption bold, 
 
 Should dare to tax the structure of the whole! 
 
 And lives the man, whose universal eye 
 
 Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things; 330 
 
 Mark'd their dependence so, and firm accord, 
 
 As with unfaltering accent to conclude 
 
 That this availeth naught ? Has any seen 
 
 The mighty chain of beings, lessening down 
 
 From Infinite Perfection to the brink 335 
 
 Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss ! 
 
 From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns ? 
 
 Till then, alone let zealous praise ascend, 
 
 And hymns of holy wonder to that POWER, 
 
 Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, 340 
 
 As on our smiling eyes his servant sun. 
 
 Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, 
 Upward and downward, thwarting and convolved, *~ 
 The quivering nations sport ; till, tempest- wing'd, 
 Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 345 
 
 E'en so luxurious men, unheeding, pass 
 An idle summer life in fortune's shine, 
 A season's glitter. Thus they flutter on 
 From toy to toy, from vanity to vice ; 
 Till, blown awa\ r by death, oblivion comes 
 Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 
 
 HAY-MAKING. 
 
 ~Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead : 
 The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, 
 
 833. This: This particular thing or that any thing which God has 
 made. 
 
SUMMER. Hj 
 
 Healthful and strong ; full as the summer rose 
 
 Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, 355 
 
 Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all 
 
 Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. 
 
 E'en stooping age is here ; and infant hands 
 
 Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load 
 
 O'ercharged, amid the kind oppression roll. 360 
 
 Wide flies the tedded grain. All in a row 
 
 Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, 
 
 They spread the breatbingLhacy_est- to the sun, 
 
 That throws refreshful round a rural smell : 
 
 Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, 365 
 
 And drive the dusky wave along the mead, 
 
 The^russet^ hay cock rises thick behind, 
 
 In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, 
 
 Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice 
 
 Of happy labor, love, and social glee. 870 
 
 SHEEP-SHEARING. 
 
 Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, <^ 
 They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog 
 Compelled, to where the mazy-running brook ^ 
 Forms a deep pool : this bank abrupt and high, 
 
 861. Tedded: Spread out for the purpose of being dried by the su* 
 The hay-field is well described in the following paragraph : 
 
 " I believe few people," -says Dr. Duncan, " have beheld the occupation" 
 of the hay-field, which this beautiful season everywhere presents, without 
 feeling a very pure and elevated delight. The mowers moving gracefully 
 in concert, the grass falling sheer beneath the scythe, its graceful fra 
 grance, the maidens raking or tedding the hay, the loading of the carts to 
 remove it to the barn-yard, all excite a sensible pleasure in almost every 
 mind. This enjoyment, both in the bystander and those who are engaged 
 in this rural occupation, seems almost entirely the result of association ; 
 it arises chiefly from suggestions and feelings of a moral and benevolent 
 kind." 
 
120 SUMMER. 
 
 *- And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. 375 
 
 Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil, 
 S*"^* Tie clamor much, of men and boys and dogs, 
 ^>-- Ere the soft fearful people to the flood 
 
 Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, 
 
 On some impatient seizing, hurls them in. 380 
 
 Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more, 
 
 Fast, fast they plunge amid the flashing wave, 
 
 And, panting, labor to the farther shore. 
 
 Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece 
 
 Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt 885 
 
 The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream. 
 
 Heavy and dripping, to the breezy brow 
 
 " Slow move thejiarmless race ; wheYe, as they spread 
 Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, 
 Inly disturb'd and wondering what this wild 390 
 
 > 'Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints 
 The country fill ; and, toss'd from rock to rock, 
 Incessant bleatings run around the hills. 
 At last, of snowy white, the gather'd ilocks 
 Are in the wattled_pen^innumerous press'd 395 
 
 Head above head : and ranged in kisty rows, 
 The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. > - 
 The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores, 
 With all her gay-dress'd maids attending round. 
 \i One, chief, in gracious dignity enthroned, 400 
 
 / I Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and rays 
 
 / Her smiles, sweet beaming on her shepherd king ; 
 While the glad circle round them yield their souls 
 To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. 
 
 \ Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace : 405 
 
 405-22. That the author had a fine taste and accurate eye for painting, 
 may be gathered from groupings and descriptions without end ; for his 
 " Seasons" are a great gallery of all manner of pictures scriptural, his- 
 torical, and domestic. He is a rural and landscape painter of the noblest 
 
SUMMER, vrr o* 
 
 Some mingling stir the melted tar, art^' 1 ^)^,! *'.'' 
 Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaV 
 To stamp the master's cipher ready 
 ^Others th' unwilling wether drag along ; 
 jAnd, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy 410 
 
 jHolds by the twisted horns th' indignant ram. 
 Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, 
 : By needy man, that all-depending lord, 
 How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! 
 iWhat softness in its melancholy face, 415 
 
 \Vhat dumb complaining innocence appears ! 
 Fear not, ye gentle tribes ; 'tis not the knife 
 Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved ; 
 No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears, 
 Who having now, to pay his annual care, 420 
 
 Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, 
 Will send you bounding to your hills again. 
 
 A simple scene! yet 'hence, Britannia sees \f 
 Her solid grandeur rise : hence, she commands / 
 Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime, 425 
 
 The treasures of the sun without his rage : 
 Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, 
 Wide glows her land : her dreadful thunder, hence, 
 Rides o'er the waves sublime, and now, e'en now, 
 
 kind. His sheep-shearing was seen through no other eyes save his own. 
 The sweet humanity with which this scene closes is in the same sym- 
 pathizing mood witli those lines which paint, first, the mariner ship- 
 wrecked and alone on the burning coast of savage Africa (939-50), and 
 the caravan of Mecca caught by the simoom in the sandy desert (961-79) 
 the close of the latter is one of the most touching passages in poetry. C. 
 
 40-8. Cipher: Mark of property generally the initials of the master's 
 name, 
 
 423. Britannia : The Latin name for Britain. The Romans invaded it 
 in the time of Julius Ccesar, and retained possession of a part of it until 
 the fifth century. 
 
 428. Thunder : That of the cannon of her navy : by a figure of speech 
 here put for the navy. 
 
 6 
 
122 SUMMER. 
 
 Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast ; 480 
 
 Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. 
 
 NOON-DAY. 
 
 'Tis raging noon ; and, vertical, the sun 
 Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. 
 O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
 Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns, and all, 435 
 
 From pole to pole, is undistinguish'd blaze. 
 In vain the sight, dejected, to the ground 
 Stoops for relief; thence hoijis^er^^g'steams 
 And keen reflection pain. Deep to -the root 
 Of vegetatioiTpaifcliM," the cleaving fields 440 
 
 And slippery lawn, an arid hue disclose, 
 Blast fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul. 
 Echo no more returns the cheerful sound 5> 
 Of sharpening scythe : the mower sinking, heaps 
 O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed; ^^ 445 
 And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard > 
 Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants : 
 The very streams look languid from afar ; 
 Or, through the unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem 
 To hurl into the covert of the grove. 450 
 
 All -conquering Heat, oh, intermit thy wrath ! 
 And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
 Beam not so fierce ! Incessant still you flow, 
 And still another fervent flood succeeds, 
 Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, 455 
 
 And restless turn, and look around for night : 
 Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. 
 Thrice happy he ! who on the sunless side 
 
 430. Gallia : The Latin name for France, which Julius Caesar also in- 
 vaded, and subjected to the Roman sway. 
 439. Reflection : That is, of the sun's rays. 
 
 
SUMMER. . 123 
 
 Of a romantic mountain, forest- crown'd, 
 Beneath the whole collected shade reclines : 460 
 
 Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine- wrought, 
 And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, 
 Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, 
 I Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses "in noon : 
 
 Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, 465 
 
 Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure, ] 
 f" And every passion aptly harmonized, 
 Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed. 
 
 A WOODLAND SCENE. 
 
 Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets, hail ! c 
 Ye lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! 470 
 
 Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep ! 
 Delicious is your shelter to the soul, 
 As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, 
 Or stream full flowing, that his swelling sides 
 Laves, as he floats along the herbaged brink. 475 
 
 Cool, through the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides : 
 The heart beats glad ; the fresh-expanded eye 
 And ear resume their watch ; the sinews knit ; 
 And life shoots swift through all the lighten'd limbs. 
 
 Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along 480 
 
 The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, 
 Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool, 
 Now starting to a sudden stream, and now 
 Gently diffused into a limpid plain ; 
 
 A various group the herds and flocks compose, 485 
 
 Rural confusion ! On the grassy bank 
 Some ruminating lie ; while others stand 
 Half in the flood, and often bending sip 
 The circling surface. In the middle droops : : 
 The strong, laborious ox ? of honest front, 490 
 
124: SUMMER. 
 
 "Which incomposed he shakes ; and from his sides 
 The troublous insects lashes with his tail, 
 Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, 
 Slumbers the monarch swain ; his careless arm 
 Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd ; 495 
 Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd ; 
 There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. 
 Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight 
 Of angry gadflies fasten on the herd ; 
 That startling scatter from the shallow brook, 500 
 
 In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, 
 They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, 
 Through all the bright severity of noon ; 
 While, from their laboring breasts, a hollow moan, 
 /? Proceeding, runs low bellowing round the hills. 505 
 
 Oft in this season too, the horse provoked, 
 While his big sinews full of spirits swell, 
 Trembling with vigor, in the heat of blood, 
 Springs the high fence ; and, o'er the field effused, 
 Darts on the gloomy flood, with steadfast eye, 510 
 
 And heart estranged to fear. His nervous chest, 
 Luxuriant and erect, the seat of streno-th, 
 
 o ' 
 
 Bears down th' opposing stream. Quenchless his thirst, 
 
 He takes the river at redoubled draughts ; 
 
 And with wide nostril, snorting, skims the wave. 515 
 
 Still let me pierce into the midnight depth 
 Of yonder grove, of wildest, largest growth, 
 That, forming high in air a woodland choir, 
 Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, 
 Solemn and slow, the shadows blacker fall, 520 
 
 And all is awful, listening gloom around ! / 1 
 
 The.se are the haunts of Meditation ; these >. . '' 
 
 The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiring breath, 
 
 491. Incomposed: Disturbed. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 125 
 
 Ecstatic, felt ; and, from this world retired, 
 
 Conversed with angels and immortal forms, 525 
 
 On gracious errands bent : to save the fall 
 
 Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice ; 
 
 In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, 
 
 To hint pure thought, and warn the favor'd soul 
 
 For future trials fated to prepare ; 530 
 
 To prompt the poet, who devoted gives 
 
 His muse to better themes ; to soothe the pangs 
 
 Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast 
 
 (Backward to mingle in detested war, 
 
 But foremost when engaged) to turn the death ; 535 
 
 And numberless such offices of love, 
 
 Daily and nightly, zealous to perform. 
 
 Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, 
 A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusKJs 
 Or stalk majestic on. Deep roused, I feel 540 
 
 A sacred terror, a severe delight ^ 
 
 l^eeplhTOUgli my mortal frame ; and thus, merhinks, 
 
 I A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear 
 
 I Of fancy strikes : " Be not of us afraid, 
 
 Poor kindred man ! Thy fellow-creatures, we 545 
 
 From the same Parent Power our being* drew ; 
 
 o 
 
 The same our Lord and laws and great pursuit. 
 Once, some of us, like thee, through stormy life, 
 
 523. Ancient bards : Inspired Hebrew bards. To no others is the lan- 
 guage that follows appropriate. Thomson assigns to angelic beings, visit- 
 ing our earth, a variety of offices that have fancy rather than Scripture 
 or argument for their support. As a fancy sketch, the picture is beauti- 
 ful : as a sketch of real life, there is a* lack of evidence in support of its 
 correctness. 
 
 539. Shapes : That is, of departed spirits, whom the poet fancies to be 
 present at this hour of noon, and to address him. He does not claim that 
 he heard their voice with the ear of the body, but with the abstracted ear 
 of fancy. The introduction of this passage gives novelty and variety to 
 the narrative, turning our thoughts to the probable occupations of de- 
 ceased friends, and leading us into, at least, a pleasant speculation. 
 
126 SUMMER. 
 
 "**- Toil'd, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain 
 
 This holy calm, this harmony of mind, 550 
 
 Where purity and peace im mingle charms. 
 
 Then fear not us ; but with responsive song, 
 
 Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd 
 
 By noisy folly and discordant vice, 
 
 Of Xature sing with us, and Nature's GOD. 555 
 
 Here frequent, at the visionary hour, 
 
 When musing midnight reigns or silent noon, 
 
 Angelic harps are in full concert heard, 
 
 And voices chanting from the wood-crowned hill, 
 
 The deepening dale, or inmost silvan glade : 580 
 
 A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, 
 
 On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear 
 
 Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain." 
 
 And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band ? 
 Alas, for us too soon ! Though raised above 565 
 
 The reach of human pain, above the flight 
 
 564. Stanley : Miss Elizabeth Stanley a young lady, well known to 
 the author, who died at the age of eighteen in the year 173S. For her 
 Thomson wrote a long and beautiful epitaph, which is included among his 
 published poems. She was buried in Holyrood church, Southampton. 
 The epitaph speaks of her as the pride and delight of her parents ; the 
 joy, the consolation, and pattern of her friends ; a mistress not only of the 
 English and French, but in a high degree of the Greek and Roman learn- 
 ing, yet without vanity or pedantry. 
 
 It may here be asked how Thomson, having published this poem in 
 1727, could commemorate the death of a voung lady which occurred 
 more than ten years afterwards. The explanation is easy. In succes- 
 sive editions the author, nearly up to the period of his death in 1748, 
 was accustomed to make alterations, to add and to withdraw, as suited 
 his improving taste or the progress of events. " These Poems" (the Sea- 
 sons) " with which," says Dr. Samuel Johnson, " I was acquainted at their 
 first appearance, I have since found altered and enlarged by subsequent 
 revisals, as the author supposed his judgment to grow more exact, and as 
 books Or conversation extended his knowledge, and opened his prospects 
 They are, as I think, improved in general ; yet I know not whether they 
 have not lost part of what Temple calls their * race ;' a word which, ap 
 plied to wines in its primitive sense, means the flavor of the soil.'^ 
 
SUMMEK. 127 
 
 Of human joy ; yet, with a mingled ray 
 
 Of sadly pleased remembrance, must thou feel 
 
 A mother's love, a mother's tender woe ; 
 
 Who seeks thee still in many a former scene ; 5*70 
 
 Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, 
 
 Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense 
 
 Inspired ; where mortal wisdom mildly shone, 
 
 Without the toil of art ; and virtue glow'd, 
 
 In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. 575 
 
 But, thou best of parents ! wipe thy tears ; 
 
 Or rather to Parental Nature pay 
 
 The tears of grateful joy, who for a while 
 
 Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom 
 
 Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth. 580 
 
 Believe the Muse ; the wintry blast of death 
 
 Kills not the buds of virtue ; no, they spread, 
 
 Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, 
 
 Through endless ages, into higher powers. 
 
 THE ROMANTIC WATER-FALL. 
 
 Thus up the mount, in airy vision wrapp'd, / 585 
 
 I stray, regardless whither ; till the sound 
 Of a near fall of water every sense 
 
 Wakes from the charm of thought : swift shrinking back, 
 I check my steps, and view the broken scene. 
 
 Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood 590 
 
 ilolls fair and placid ; where, collected all 
 n one impetuous torrent, down the steep 
 it thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. 
 It first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad ; 
 hen whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, 595 
 
 Ind from the loud-resounding rocks below 
 )ash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft 
 hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. 
 
128 
 
 SUMMEK. 
 
 *-Nor can the tortured wave here find repose : 
 | But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, 600 
 
 J Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now 
 / Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts ; 
 f And, falling fast from gradual slope to slope, 
 With wild, infracted course and lessened roar, 
 It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last, 605 
 
 Along the mazes of the quiet vale. 
 
 Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow 
 He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, 
 With upward pinions, through the flood of day ; 
 And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, 610 
 
 Gains on the sun : while all the_tuneful race, ~~~* 
 Smit by aiflictive noon, disorder'd droop, /- 
 Deep in the thicket ; or, from bower to bower 
 Responsive, force an interrupted strain. 
 The stock-dove only through the forest coos, 615 
 
 [ Mournfully hoarse ; oft ceasing from his plaint, 
 Short interval of weary woe ! Again 
 
 608. Steep-ascending eagle : To the eagle mankind have agreed (says 
 Mrs. Ellis) in assigning a sort of regal character, from the majesty of his 
 bearing, and the proud pre-eminence he maintains amongst the feathered 
 tribe ; from the sublimity of his chosen home, far above the haunts of 
 man and meaner animals, from the self-seclusion in which he holds him- 
 self apart from the general association of living and familiar things, and 
 from the beauty and splendor of his sagacious eye, which shrinks not 
 from the dazzling glare of the sun itself. 
 
 615. The stock-dove : The wild pigeon of Europe, formerly supposed to 
 be the stock whence originated the domestic pigeon, but now regarded as 
 a distinct species. The writer last quoted gives an account of the dove 
 so attractive that it is worthy of being inserted here. Above all other 
 birds (she remarks) the dove is most intimately and familiarly associated 
 with ideas of the quiet seclusion of rural life, and the enjoyment of peace 
 and love. This simple bird, by no means remarkable for its sagacity, so 
 soft in its coloring and graceful in its form, that we cannot behold it with- 
 out being conscious of its perfect loveliness, is in some instances endowed 
 with an extraordinary instinct, which adds greatly to its poetical interest. 
 That species called the carrier-pigeon, has often been celebrated for the 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 129 
 
 The sad idea of his murder' d mate, ^ 
 
 Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, 
 Across his fancy comes ; and then resounds 620 
 
 A louder song of sorrow through the grove. 
 
 Beside the dewy border let me sit, 
 All in the freshness of the humid air : 
 There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild, 
 An ample chair moss-lined, and over head 625 
 
 By flowering umbrage shaded ; where the bee 
 Strays diligent, and with th' extracted 
 Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. 
 
 the bee i 
 
 balm It 
 high. I 
 
 THE WONDERS OF THE TORRID ZONE. 
 
 Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, 
 While Nature lies around deep lull'd in noon, 630 
 
 Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, \ 
 And view the wonders of the torrid zone ; 
 
 faithfulness with which it pursues its mysterious way, but never more 
 beautifully than in the following lines by Moore : 
 
 The bird let loose in eastern skies, 
 
 When hastening fondly home, 
 Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, or flies 
 
 Where idler wanderers roam ; 
 
 But high she shoots through air and light, 
 
 Above all low delay, 
 Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, 
 
 Or shadow dims her way. 
 
 But neither the wonderful instinct of this undeviating messenger, 
 nor even the classical association of two white doves with the queen 
 of love and beauty, are more powerful in awakening poetical ideas than 
 the simple cooing of our own wood-pigeon, heard sometimes in the solem- 
 nity of summer's noon, -when there is no other sound but the hum of the 
 wandering bee, as he comes laden and rejoicing home, when the sun is 
 alone in the heavens, and the cattle are sleeping in the shade, and not a 
 single breath of air is whispering through the boughs, and the deep dark 
 shadows of the ekn and the sycamore lie motionless upon the earth. 
 
 6* 
 
130 STJMMEK. 
 
 Climes unrelenting ! with whose rage compared, 
 Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. 
 
 See, how at once the bright, effulgent Sun, 635 
 
 Rising direct, swift chases from the sky 
 ^ The shodcliyed twilight ; and with ardent blaze, 
 Looks gayly fierce through all the dazzling air. 
 He mounts his throne ; but kind before him sends, 
 Issuing from out the portals of the morn, 640 
 
 The general breeze, to mitigate his fire, 
 And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. 
 Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown' d 
 And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, 
 Returning suns and double seasons pass ; 645 
 
 Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, 
 That on the high equator ridgy rise, 
 
 641. The general breeze : That which blows constantly between the 
 tropics from the east, or the collateral points, the northeast and the south- 
 east, the cause of which is to be ascribed principally to the high compara- 
 tive temperature of the torrid zone, combined with the rotation of the 
 earth from west to east. The heated air at the surface ascending into 
 the higher regions of the atmosphere, its place is supplied by the colder 
 air rushing from the poles ; which, also becoming rarefied, ascends in its 
 turn, and is carried in the upper regions towards the poles to supply the 
 stream of the under current : these under polar currents moving in prog- 
 ress towards the equator from the zones where the earth's motion is 
 slower, to others where it is more rapid, acquire an apparent relative mo- 
 tion in a westerly direction. The currents from the northern and south- 
 ern hemispheres meeting near the equator, their meridional motions are 
 there destroyed, jind they therefore advance together with the remain- 
 ing motion from the eastward around the globe. The regularity of the 
 trade-winds is disturbed in some places by local causes, and chiefly by 
 the superior rarefaction of the air over land heated by the sun's rays. 
 They extend further to the northward or southward according as the 
 urn's declination is north or south ; and in some places they are period- 
 ical, blowing half of the year in one direction, and the other half in the 
 opposite one. B&ANDE'S CYCLOPEDIA. 
 
 645. Returning xu/ts, c. : In all climates between the tropics, the 
 Bun, as he passes and repasses in his annual motion, is twice a year verti- 
 cal, and thus produces the effect here described. 
 
SUMMER. 131 
 
 Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays ; 
 Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, 
 Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills ; 650 
 
 /Or, to the far horizon wide diffused, i 
 A boundless deep immensity of shade. I 
 Here, lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, 
 The noble sons of potent heat and floods, 
 Prone rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven 655 
 Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw 
 Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, 
 Unnumber'd fruits, of keen delicious taste 
 And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, 
 And burning sands, that bank the shrubby vales, 660 
 
 Redoubled day ; yet in their rugged coats 
 A friendly juice to cool its rage, contain. 
 
 Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; 
 To where the lenioa-and the piercing lime, 
 With the deep orange, glowing through the green, 665 
 Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined 
 Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, 
 Fann'd by the breeze, its fever- cooling fruit. 
 Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, 
 Quench my hot limbs ; or lead me through the maze] 670 
 Embowering endless, of the Indian fig ; 
 
 648. Aurifero-tts : Containing gold among its sands. 
 
 661. Ragged coats : those of the cocoanut are probably referred to. 
 
 663. Pomona : An imaginary goddess of fruits and flowers, worshipped 
 in ancient* Rome. 
 
 667. Tamarind: The Indian date, that grows to a great height, and is 
 crowned with wide-spreading branches. Its fruit has a grateful acid taste 
 and is preserved in sugar; the pods in which it grows being first re- 
 moved. 
 
 669. Night : After this, supply which. The sense will thus be made 
 plain. 
 
 671. Indian fig : Ficus religiosa. The Banian-tree of India, celebrated 
 for the great size and number of its trunks, its magnificent shade, and its 
 adaptation to the comfort of animals and of mankind in tropical climates, 
 
132 SUMMER. 
 
 Or, thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, 
 
 Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, 
 
 Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, 
 
 And high palmettos lift their graceful shade. 675 
 
 Or, stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, 
 
 Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 
 
 And from the palm to draw its freshening wine ! 
 
 More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
 
 A single tree, in fact, constitutes a grove, furnishing most beautiful walks, 
 vistas, and cool retreats in summer. The leaves are large, soft, and of a 
 lively green. The fruit is a small fig, when ripe, of a bright scarlet color, 
 affording sustenance to squirrels, monkeys, peacocks, and birds of various 
 kinds which dwell among the branches. 
 
 Milton supposes that it was this tree which furnished the leaves for the 
 first garments of Adam and Eve : 
 
 Such as at this day to Indians known 
 In Malabar or Decan, spreads her arms 
 Branching so broad and long, that in the ground 
 The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
 About the mother tree, a pillar' d shade 
 High over-arched, and echoing walks between. 
 
 The Hindoos almost pay it divine honors, considering its long duration, 
 its outstretching arms, and its overshadowing beneficence as emblems of 
 the Deity. The Brahmins spend much of their time in meditation under 
 its delightful shade : they plant it near their temples or pagodas ; and in 
 villages where these buildings have not been erected the Banian-tree is 
 the scene of their idol worship. Under its far-reaching branches thousands 
 of human beings, and of the inferior tribes that traverse the earth and the 
 air, may find at one time ample accommodation and subsistence. Consult 
 Dick's Christian Philosopher, chap. ii. 
 
 675. Palmettos: The palmetto is a species of the palm-tree, indigenous 
 in the West Indies and in the southern part of the United States. 
 
 677. The cocoa-tree is devoted to a great variety of useful purposes. 
 Boats and frames for houses are made of the trunk. The larger leaves, 
 from ten to fifteen feet long and three feet broad, are used in thatching 
 the houses of the Hindoo natives, and when split lengthwise serve as ma- 
 terials for mats and baskets. The nut yields not only delicious food and 
 drink, but a valuable oil. The branches, when cut, send forth a liquor 
 called toddy, from which an intoxicating beverage is obtained by distilla- 
 tion. The fibres enveloping the shell of the nut are sometimes spun and 
 woven into sail-cloth, or twisted into a cable stronger than any that can 
 be made of hemp. The leaves furnish food to the elephant, and the ashes, 
 
SUMMER. 133 
 
 Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs 680 
 
 Low bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd ; 
 
 Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race 
 
 Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells 
 
 Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 
 
 Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride 685 
 
 Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er 
 
 The poets imaged in the golden age : 
 
 Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, 
 
 Spread thy ambrosial stores and feast with Jove ! 
 
 From these the prospect varies. Plains immense 690 
 Lie stretch'd below, interminable meads, 
 And vast savannahs ; where the wandering eye, 
 Unfix'd, is in a verdant ocean lost. 
 Another Flora there, of bolder hues, 
 
 from the potash which they contain, serve the fishermen of Ceylon for 
 soap. The shell is made into cups and various fancy articles. 
 
 680. Bacchus : The god of the vine, of its fruits, and of the scenes to 
 which the "frantic juice" gives origin, was among the first of the gods 
 that were generally worshipped in the Grecian and Roman territories. 
 His worship virtually is now more prevalent than in ancient times, even 
 in nominally Christian lands. 
 
 681. The fruit of the pomegranate-tree is about the size of an orange; 
 the pulp, which is acid, and of a reddish color, being inclosed in a hard 
 rind. The latter is highly astringent. This shrubby tree is a native of 
 Italy, Spain, and Barbary. 
 
 683-4. Moral reflections and observations like this are perpetually oc- 
 curring through the poem, and greatly enhance its value, and, to persons 
 of fine moral taste, its interest also. 
 
 685. The Anana is the pineapple. 
 
 692. Savannahs : Plains covered with grass and free from trees, afford- 
 ing an unobstructed prospect. Meads generally denote grass land, low 
 and wet. 
 
 694. Flora : A name derived from the goddess of flowers worshipped 
 by the ancients, but now frequently employed to denote a class or collec- 
 tion of flowers belonging to some particular region. Thus we may speak 
 of a European, African, or American Flora. It is here used us a general 
 term for the totality of flowers that adorn the savannahs and meads 
 above mentioned. 
 
134: SUMMER. 
 
 And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride, 695 
 
 Plays o'er the fields, and showers, with sudden hand, 
 Exuberant spring : for oft these valleys shift 
 > Their green- embroider 'd robe to fiery brown, 
 And swift to green again, as scorching suns, 
 Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. 700 
 
 Along these lonely regions, where, reticejL 
 From_liitle_scenes of art,_great ISature dwells 
 ^r In awful solitude, and naught is seen 
 
 But the wild herds that own no master's stall, 
 Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas ; 705 
 
 On whose luxuriant herbage, half conceal'd, 
 Like a fall'n cedar, far diffused his train, 
 Cased in green scales, the crocodile extends. 
 The flood" disparts : behold ! in plaited mail, 
 Behemoth rears his head. Glanced from his side, 710 
 The darted steel in idle shivers flies. 
 He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills; 
 Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds, 
 In widening circle round, forget their food, 
 And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. 715 
 
 Peaceful beneath primeval trees, that cast 
 
 710. Behemoth : The hippopotamus, or river-horse ; a grand description 
 of which is furnished in the book of Job, chap. xl. 15-24. Some parts of 
 that description apply more closely to the elephant than to the river- 
 horse ; other parts apply equally well to both. Hence the term behe- 
 moth, taken intensively, may be assumed to be a poetical personification 
 of the great Pachydermata, or even Herbivora, wherein the idea of hip- 
 popotamus is predominant. Consult Kitto's Cyclopedia. The hippopot- 
 amus lives during the day beneath the waters of its native river, ascend- 
 ing occasionally to the surface for the purpose of breathing ; but at night 
 make? its way to the laud to obtain food. 
 
 The crocodile (70S) is included among the animals denoted by Levia- 
 than, in the sacred Scriptures. Among other characteristics the upper 
 and under parts of the body, and the entire tail, are covered with square 
 plates, while the sides of the body are covered with small round scales. 
 Its home is the Nile. 
 
 717. The river Niger in Africa is chiefly celebrated for the many un- 
 
SUMMER. 135 
 
 Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream, . 
 
 And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave ; 
 
 Or, mid the central depth of blackening woods, 
 
 High raised in solemn theatre around, 720 
 
 Leans the huge elephant ; wisest of brutes ! 
 
 truly wise ! with gentle might endow'd, 
 
 Though powerful, not destructive ! Here he sees 
 
 Revolving ages sweep the changeful earth, 
 
 And empires rise and fall ; regardless he 725 
 
 Of what the never-resting race of men 
 
 Project : thrice happy ! could he 'scape their guile, 
 
 Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps ; 
 
 Or with his towery grandeur swell their state, 
 
 The pride of kings ! or else, his strength pervert, 730 
 
 successful and fatal attempts to explore and ascertain its outlet, which 
 was not discovered until 1830 by Richard and John Lander, who went 
 from the coast to Boosa on the Niger, and followed the stream downward 
 till it conveyed them through the channel of the river Nun into the bay 
 of Benin this channel being one of the numerous mouths of the Niger 
 that form, on the Atlantic coast, a delta of 240 miles. Jt was at Boosa 
 that Mungo Park and his associates encountered death. For centuries 
 the origin of this river in Western Guinea and a part of its course only 
 were known ; but it was reserved, at this late period, for the enterprise 
 of the- Landers to settle the long-agitated question of its local termi- 
 nation. 
 
 718. Sacred wave: The water of the Ganges is regarded by the Hin- 
 doos with religious reverence, since they attribute to it an efficacy for 
 their purification from sin. In size and other respects, it is one of the 
 noblest rivers in the world, extending in all its windings, in Hindostan 
 alone, 1300 miles, and thus far from its mouth is navigable. 
 
 728. Who mine, &c. : -This is done by digging pits, which are covered 
 slightly with branches, grass, and earth, and the wild elephant, being 
 driven or allured in the direction of these, falls into them and is captured. 
 For a full account see Rollin's History, vol. v. 147-8. Their use "amid 
 the mortal fray," or in battles, by the ancients, is well known. In his 
 famous battle with Alexander, Porus is said to have employed eighty- 
 five prodigious elephants, which, before the engagement, stood like so 
 many towers, and the Indians exasperated them in order that their 
 hideous cry might fill the Macedonians with terror. This may explain 
 the plirase toivcry grandeur 
 
136 SUMMER. 
 
 And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, 
 Astonish'd at the madness of mankind. 
 
 Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, 
 Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, 
 Thick swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand, 735 
 That with a sportive vanity has deck'd 
 The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
 Profusely pours. But if she bids them shine, 
 Array 'd in all the beauteous beams of day, 
 Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. 740 
 
 Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent 
 Proud Montezuma's realm, whose legions cast 
 A boundless radiance waving on the sun, 
 While Philomel is ours ; while in our shades, \ 
 Through the soft silence of the listening night, 745 
 
 738-40. Profusely pours, &c. : In all the regions of the torrid zone, the 
 birds, though more beautiful in their plumage, are observed to be less 
 melodious than in the temperate zone. 
 
 742. Montezuma'* realm : Mexico. That Montezuma was a proud mon- 
 arch will be seen from Robertson's account of his earliest interview with 
 Cortes. He was in the first place preceded by a thousand persons of dis- 
 tinction, adorned with plumes and clothed in mantles of fine cotton. 
 These announced to Cortes that their monarch was approaching. Next 
 appeared two hundred persons in a uniform dress, with large plumes of 
 feathers, alike in fashion, marching two and two, in deep silence, bare- 
 footed, with their eyes fixed on the ground. These were followed by a 
 company of higher rank, in their most showy apparel, in the midst of 
 whom was Montezuma, in a chair or litter richly ornamented with gold, 
 and feathers of various colors. Four of his principal favorites carried him 
 on their shoulders, others supported a canopy of curious workmanship 
 over his head. Before him inarched three officers with rods of gold in 
 their hands, which they lifted up on high at certain intervals, and at that 
 signal all the people bowed their heads and hid their faces, as unworthy 
 to look upon so great a monarch. When he drew near, Cortes dismounted, 
 advancing towards him Avith officious haste, and in a respectful posture. 
 At the same time Montezuma alighted from his chair, and, leaning on the 
 arms of two of his near relations, approached with a slow and stately 
 pace, his attendants covering the streets with cotton cloths, that he might 
 not touch the ground. He scarcely deigned to consider the rost of man- 
 kind as of the same species with himself. 
 
SUMMER. 13T 
 
 \The sober-suited songstress trills her lay. 
 
 But come, my Muse, the desert-barrier burst, 
 A wild expanse of lifeless sand and sky ; 
 And, swifter than the toiling caravan, 
 Shoot o'er the vale of Sennar ; ardent climb 750 
 
 To Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds 
 Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. 
 'Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask 
 Of social commerce com'st to rob their wealth ; 
 No holy fury thou, blaspheming Heaven, 755 
 
 With consecrated steel to stab their peace, - 
 And through the land yet red from civil wounds, 
 To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. 
 Thou, like the harmless bee, mayst freely range 
 From mead to mead, bright with exalted flowers ; 760 
 From jasmin grove to grove, mayst wander gay 
 Through palmy shades and aromatic woods, 
 That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills, 
 And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. 
 
 746. The sober-suited songstress : Philomel (the nightingale) is so styled 
 from the plain suit of plumage that she wears, there being nothing showy 
 or brilliant about it. 
 
 750. Sennaar is a city of Nubia and capital of the kingdom of Sennaar. 
 It has a population of 10,000, and carries on, by caravans, an extensive 
 trade with Egypt, Nigritia, and Arabia. South of Nubia lies Abyssinia, 
 whose inhabitants have adopted a system of religion, compounded of 
 Judaism, Christianity, and superstition. In the fifteenth and sixteentli 
 centuries strenuous efforts were made to proselyte them to the Romish 
 faith, but these efforts were not attended with much success until the 
 seventeenth century, when the Portuguese Jesuits renewed the mission, 
 to spread the purple tyranny of Rome. At length, however, the emperor 
 was so exasperated at the changes thus introduced, the exactions the} 
 imposed, and the arrogance they displayed, that he banished all the 
 popish missionaries, and their adherents, from his dominions ; and even so 
 lately as a century ago, the edict prohibiting, on the above account, all 
 Europeans to enter Abyssinia, was in force and rigorously executed. To 
 this event, and others naturally growing out of it, the poet plainly alludea 
 (751-758), and then gives a most picturesque account of the physical 
 beauties of an Abyssinian landscape. 
 
138 SUMMEK. 
 
 There on the breezy summit, spreading fair, 765 
 
 For many a league ; or on stupendous rocks, 
 
 That from the sun-redoubling valley lift, 
 
 Cool to the middle air, their lawny tops ; 
 
 Where palaces and fanes and villas rise, 
 
 And gardens smile around, and cultured fields, 770 
 
 And fountains gush, and careless herds and flocks 
 
 Securely stray ; a world within itself, 
 
 Disdaining all assault ; there let me draw 
 
 Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales, 
 
 Profusely breathing from the spicy groves 775 
 
 And vales of fragrance ; there at distance hear 
 
 The roaring floods, and cataracts, that sweep 
 
 From disembowelFd earth the virgin gold ; 
 
 And o'er the varied landscape, restless, rove, 
 
 Fervent with life of every fairer kind : 780 
 
 A land of wonders ! which the sun still eyes 
 
 With ray direct, as of the lovely realm 
 
 Enamor'd, and delighting there to dwell. 
 
 How changed the scene ! in blazing height of noon, 
 The sun, oppress'd, is plunged in thickest gloom. 785 
 
 Still horror reigns, a dreary twilight round, 
 Of struggling night and day malignant mix'd. 
 6 For to the hot equator crowding fast, 
 Where highly rarefied, the yielding air 
 Admits their stream, incessant vapors roll, 790 
 
 Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd ; 
 Or whiiTd tempestuous by the gusty wind, 
 'Or silent borne along, heavy and slow, ** 
 
 With, the big stores of steaming oceans charged. 
 Meantime, amid these upper seas, condensed 795 
 
 767. Sun-redoubling valley : Valley in which, compared wAh the adja- 
 cent eminences, the sun has double power, especially when in a vertical 
 position. 
 
 778. Virgin gold: Pure gold. 
 
STJMMEK. 139 
 
 Around the cold aerial mountain's brow, 
 
 And by conflicting winds together dash'd, 
 
 The thunder holds his black, tremendous throne. 
 
 From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage ; 
 
 Till, in the furious-elemental war 800 
 
 Dissolved, the whole precipitated mass 
 
 Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours. 
 
 MAGNIFICENT RIVERS. 
 
 The treasures these, hid from the bounded search 
 Of ancient knowledge ; whence, with annual pomp, 
 Rich king of floods ! o'erflows the swelling Nile. 805 
 
 From his two springs, in Gojam's sunny realm, 
 Pure welling out, he through the lucid lake 
 Of fair Dambea rolls his infant stream. 
 There, by the naiads nursed, he sports away 
 His playful youth amid the fragrant isles, 810 
 
 That with unfading verdure smile around. ' 
 Ambitious thence the manly river breaks ; 
 And, gathering many a flood, and copious fed 
 With all the mellow'd treasures of the sky, 
 
 v 803-5. The author here refers to the previous paragraph as containing 
 an explanation of the annual overflowings of the Nile a phenomenon 
 which the ancients failed to account for. The poet claims also to indicate 
 the sources of the Nile in two springs welling out (issuing out) in Gojam, 
 which probably denotes a province of Abyssinia. But he has been more 
 exact and explicit than history warrants. It has hitherto been ascer- 
 tained, only, that the various branches of the Nile have an origin some- 
 where in the high lands of Africa, north of the equator, in what are called 
 the Mountains of the Moon. The Nile, yet a small stream, runs through 
 the lake Dembca, situated in the interior of Abyssinia. The whole length 
 of this splendid river is not far from '2000 miles. 
 
 809. By the naiads, nursed: A classical conception of great beauty. 
 The Nile in its infancy is represented as being nursed in the lake Dembea 
 by the fair goddesses that preside over fountains and rivers. The pro- 
 gressive growth and ever-swelling majesty of the river are finely de- 
 scribed. 
 

 140 SUMMEK. 
 
 Winds in progressive majesty along : 815 
 
 Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze, 
 Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts 
 Of life-deserted sand ; till, glad to quit 
 The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks, 
 From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn, 820 
 And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave. 
 His brother Niger too, and all the floods 
 JT? In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave 
 Their jetty limbs ; and all that from the tract 
 Of woody mountains stretch'd through gorgeous Ind, 825 
 Fall on Cormandel's coast, or Malabar ; 
 From Menam's orient stream, that nightly shines 
 With insect lamps, to where Aurora sheds 
 On Indus' smiling banks the rosy shower : 
 All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, 830 
 
 And pour untoiling harvest o'er the land. 
 
 Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refreshed, 
 The lavish moisture of the melting year. 
 Wide o'er his isles the branching Oronoque 
 
 816. Devolves his maze: Rolls down his winding course. 
 
 825. Ind ; for India. Menam is a large river of Siam, on whose banks 
 the vast multitude of fire-flies make a brilliant appearance at night. 
 
 832. Thy world: The continent of America; called his world because 
 discovered by him. 
 
 834. Oronoque : This river takes its rise in the centre of the Republic 
 of Colombia, and after a course of 1400 miles enters the Atlantic by an 
 extended delta of mouths, opposite the Island of Trinidad. The poet 
 refers to the valuable trees (life-sufficing] on the banks of this stream, to 
 which the natives are driven for safety when the river is overflowed, and 
 from which they derive supplies of various sorts. The reference, proba- 
 bly, is to the cocoanut-tree, which has been already described in note 
 677, "Spring." 
 
 A passage in St. Pierre's Studies of Nature affords a good illustration of 
 the text : "The inundations of rivers, such as the Amazon, Oronoco, and 
 many others, are periodical. They manure the lands they inundate ; and 
 it is well known that the banks of these rivers swarmed with populous 
 nations before Europeans settled there. The inhabitants were benefited 
 
SUMMER. 141 
 
 Rolls a brown deluge ; and the native drives 835 
 
 To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees, 
 
 At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. 
 
 Swell'd by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl'd 
 
 From all the roaring Andes, huge descends 
 
 The mighty Orellana. Scarce the Muse 840 
 
 Dares stretch her wing o'er this enormous mass 
 
 Of rushing water. Scarce she dares attempt 
 
 The sea-like Plata ; to whose dread expanse, 
 
 Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course, 
 
 Our floods are rills. With unabated force, 845 
 
 In silent dignity they sweep along, 
 
 And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds, 
 
 And fruitful deserts, worlds of solitude ; 
 
 Where the sun smiles and seasons teem in vain, 
 
 Unseen and unenjoy'd. Forsaking these, 850 
 
 from these inundations, by the abundance of the fisheries and the fertility 
 of the lands. So far from considering them as convulsions of nature, they 
 received them as blessings from Heaven ; just as the Egyptians prized 
 the overflowings of the Nile. Was it then a mortifying spectacle to see 
 their deep forests intersected with water, which they could traverse in 
 their canoes, and pick the fruits at their ease ? Nay, certain tribes of the 
 Oronoco (or Oronoque), determined by these accommodations, had acquired 
 the singular habit of dwelling on the tops of trees, and seeking under 
 their foliage a habitation, food, and a fortress. Most of them, however, 
 inhabited only the banks of rivers, and preferred them to the surrounding 
 deserts, though not exposed to inundations." 
 
 840. The Orellana is the river Amazon, deriving the first of these 
 names from its discoverer, Francesco Orellano, who, leaving Peru in 1540, 
 was the first European that sailed down the river Amazon to the Atlantic. 
 He gave this latter name to the river from the circumstance that he ob- 
 served upon its banks companies of armed women. The original name of 
 the river was Maranon. Its length is 3300 miles : it has a breadth of 150 
 miles at its mouth, and even at the distance of 1500 miles from its mouth 
 is 180 feet deep. 
 
 843. Sea-like Plata: Being 150 miles broad at its mouth, and at Mon- 
 tevideo, 60 miles up the river, is so broad that from the centre of the 
 channel the land on either side cannot be discerned. It is navigable in 
 large boats 1000 miles, which is about half of its entire length. 
 
142 SUMMER. 
 
 O'er peopled plains they fair diffusive flow, 
 
 And many a nation feed, and circle safe 
 
 In their soft bosom, many a happy isle, 
 
 The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturb'd 
 
 By Christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. 855 
 
 Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep, 
 
 Whose vanquish'd tide, recoiling from the shock, 
 
 Yields to the liquid weight of half the globe ; 
 
 And Ocean trembles for his green domain. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF TROPICAL CLIMES OVERBALANCED B" '^IR 
 PECULIAR DISADVANTAGES. 
 
 But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth ? 860 
 This gay profusion of luxurious bliss ? 
 This pomp of Nature ? what their balmy meads, 
 Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain, 
 By vagrant birds dispersed, and wafting winds ? 
 What their implanted fruits? what the cool draughts, 865 
 Th' ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, 
 Their forests yield ? their toiling insects what, 
 
 854. Pan : A Grecian deity, who -was honored as the god of the natural 
 world ; this name signifying the whole : or his name may be derived from 
 a word which signifies to tend flocks, and thus applies to him as the god 
 of shepherds and of men in a rude, uncultivated state. He is here put as 
 the god or representative of the men of those regions while yet uncor- 
 rupted by European vices. 
 
 857-9. These lines receive illustration from the account which Robert- 
 son gives of the Orinoco. It rolls towards the ocean such a vast body of 
 water, and rushes into it with such impetuous force, that when it meets 
 the tide, which on that coast rises to an uncommon height, their collision 
 occasions a swell and agitation of the waves no less surprising than formi- 
 dable. IH this conflict the irresistible torrent of the river so far prevails 
 that it freshens the ocean many leagues with its flood. 
 
 863. -Cfreft roid of pain : Crops that cost no severe labor spontaneous 
 products of the earth. Ceres, the goddess of agriculture and of the pro- 
 ducts of the earth, is here put for those products that were attributed to 
 her power and energy. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 Their silky pride, and vegetable robes ? 
 
 Ah ! what avail their fatal treasures, hid 
 
 Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, 870 
 
 Golconda's gems, and sad Potosi's mines ; 
 
 868-9. Fatal treasures : The precious metals, by attracting the cupidity 
 and lawless violence of Spanish adventurers, were fatal to the happiness 
 and life of the gentle children of the sun the simple sun-burnt natives of 
 those regions. The word pitying conveys the beautiful sentiment, that 
 the earth, in pity to the natives, and for their security from foreign 
 rapacity, had hid her precious minerals deep in her bowels, that they 
 might not be discovered. 
 
 But these rich mines of silver and gold were exceedingly detrimental 
 also to the country that sent forth its greedy adventurers to exhaust 
 them. Previous to their discovery Spain was an industrious and thriving 
 country. Under the reigns of Ferdinand and Isabella, and Charles V., 
 Spain was one of the most industrious countries in Europe. Her manufac- 
 tures in wool, and flax, and silk, were so extensive as not only to furnish 
 what was sufficient for her own consumption, but to afford a surplus for 
 exportation. The new market now opened in America naturally added 
 great vivacity and excitement to the spirit of industry. Nourished and 
 invigorated by this, the manufactures, the population, and wealth of Spain 
 might have gone on increasing in the same proportion with the growth of 
 her colonies. Her marine was also in a very flourishing condition. But, 
 as Robertson further remarks, " the same thing happens to nations as to 
 individuals. Wealth which flows in gradually and with moderate increase, 
 feeds and nourishes that activity which is friendly to commerce, and calls 
 it forth into vigorous and well-conducted exertions; but when opulence 
 pours in suddenly, and with too full a stream, it overturns all sober, plans 
 of industry, and brings along with it a taste for what is wild and extrava- 
 gant and daring in business or in action." Philip II. and Philip III., men 
 of inferior talents, were tempted, under this impulse, to engage in ex- 
 pensive wars, draining their country of men and treasure. The rage for 
 emigration to the new countries carried off more of the industrious classes 
 than could be spared. These depended on Spain for their supplies, but 
 her flourishing manufactures having declined, the supply was sought from 
 other countries, so that in a short time not more than the twentieth part 
 of the commodities exported to America was of Spanish growth or fabric. 
 Thus were the riches and strength of Spain rapidly diminished ; so that 
 from the close of the sixteenth century she has not been able to supply 
 the growing wants of her colonies, but other more industrious nations have 
 enriched themselves at her expense. 
 
 871. Golconda's gems : A province of Hindoostan abounding in diamonds. 
 Potosi, in Boh' via, South America, distinguished for the rich silver mines 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun ? 
 What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, 
 Her odorous woods, and shining ivory stores ? 
 Ill-fated race ! the softening arts of peace, 8*75 
 
 Whate'er the humanizing Muses teach ; 
 The godlike wisdom of the tempered breast ; 
 Progressive truth, the patient force of thought ; 
 Investigation calm, whose silent powers 
 Command the world ; the light that leads to heaven ; 880 
 "' Kind equal j-ule, the government of laws, 
 And all-protecting freedom, which alone 
 Sustains the name and dignity of man : 
 These are not theirs. The parent sun himself 
 Seems o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize ; 885 
 
 And, with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom 
 Of beauty blasting, gives the gloomy hue, 
 And feature gross ; or worse, to ruthless deeds, 
 Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge, 
 Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there. 890 
 
 The soft regards, the tenderness of life, 
 The heart-shed tear, th' ineffable delight 
 Of sweet humanity ; these court the beam 
 Of milder climes ; in selfish fierce desire, 
 
 found in a conical mountain near by ; but they are now considerably ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 876. Humanizing Muses : Female deities that fostered the fine arts and 
 sciences, such as poetry, music, painting, rhetoric, astronomy, <fcc. " It 
 appears probable," says Brande, " that the early Grecian* poets, struck 
 with the beauty and sublimity of the scenery in this part of Greece 
 (Helicon and the region around Parnassus), ascribed the humanizing influ- 
 ence it was so well fitted to exercise over the mind to the agency of the 
 nymphs and other tutelary deities of the place, to whom they gave the 
 name of Muses.'' This name is supposed to have been derived from an 
 old Greek verb, meaning to inquire or invent : and the Muses, accordingly, 
 are. philosophically, to be regarded only as personifications of the inven- 
 tive powers of the mind as displayed in the various liberal arts and 
 sciences. 
 
SUMMER. 145 
 
 And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, 895 
 
 There lost. The very brute creation there 
 This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire, 
 Lo ! the green serpent, from his dark abode, 
 Which e'en Imagination fears to tread, 
 At noon forth issuing, gathers up his train 900 
 
 In orbs immense, then, darting out anew, 
 Seeks the refreshing fount ; by which diffused, 
 He throws his folds ; and while, with threatening tongue, 
 And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls 
 His flaming crest, all other thirst, appalFd, 905 
 
 Or shivering flies, or check'd at distance stands, 
 Nor dares approach. But still more direful he, 
 The small close-lurking minister of fate, 
 
 898. Green serpent: Allusion probably is made to the Coluberidce, 
 which "are particularly distinguished by the power of dilating the open- 
 ing of the jaws to an enormous extent, so as to permit of animals being 
 swallowed whicli are much larger than the diameter of the serpent it- 
 eelf. This is accomplished by the separation of the jaw-bones into vari- 
 ous pieces, which are very movable on one another and on the skull. 
 The most remarkable species of this family are the Boa Constrictors of 
 the New World and the Pythones of the Old ; these, when full grown, 
 attain the length of from thirty to forty feet, and in thickness nearly 
 equal a man's body. They do not fear to attack any animal ; and if 
 fhey can once coil themselves round it, crush it by the enormous com- 
 bined power of their muscles, in spite of all its means of resistance and 
 defence. Their power is much increased by coiling the tail round 
 a tree, so as to give a point of support from which the muscles may 
 act. more efficiently ; and it is in this manner that they commonly 
 wait for their prey. When they have seized and entirely destroyed it 
 by crushing, in which process all the principal bones are broken, they be- 
 gin to swallow it. The process of digestion takes some days or weeks, 
 according to the size of the prey, and during that time the monster lies 
 in a very inactive state. The hair, horns, and other least digestible parts 
 are usually disgorged during the process." 
 
 9.05. All other thirst, &c. : According to the reading of the text, thirst 
 is personified, and is represented as suffering and doing that which the 
 animals under its influence suffer and do. 
 
 907. The Viper, probably, is here referred to, and especially the horn- 
 ed viper, or Cerastes, which is an extremely venomous species. 
 
 7 
 
146 SUMMER. 
 
 Whose high-concocted venom through the veins 
 
 A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift 910 
 
 The vital current ; forin'd to humble man, 
 
 This child of vengeful nature ! There, sublimed 
 
 To fearless lust of blood, the savage race 
 
 Roam, licensed by the shading hour of guilt, 
 
 And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut 915 
 
 His sacred eye. The tiger darting fierce 
 
 Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd ; 
 
 The lively shining leopard, speckled o'er 
 
 (With many a spot, the beauty of the waste ; 
 
 And, scorning all the taming arts of man, 920 
 
 The keen hyena, fellest of the fell : 
 
 These, rushing from th' inhospitable woods 
 
 Of Mauretania, or the tufted isles 
 
 912. As a recent writer has observed, in fearful pre-eminence amongst 
 those animals commonly considered repulsive and degraded is the ser- 
 pent, whose history is unavoidably associated with the introduction of sin 
 and sorrow into the world. Whether from this association, or from an in 
 stinctive horror of its " venomous tooth," it is certain that the serpent is 
 more generally dreaded and more loathed, even by those who do not 
 fear It, than any other living thing ; and yet how beautiful is its saga- 
 cious eye, how rich and splendid its coloring; how delicate the tracery of 
 network thrown all over its glossy scales, how graceful and easy its 
 meandering movements, as it winds itself in among the rustling grass ; 
 how much like one of the fairest objects in nature, a clear blue river 
 wandering through a distant valley ! 
 
 923. Mauritania : Ancient Latin name for the African territory now 
 occupied by the kingdoms of Fez and Morocco, in the neighborhood of 
 the Straits of Gibraltar while the term Libya (924) characterizes gen- 
 erally the northern part of Africa extending between Mauritania on the 
 west and Egypt on the east, and to an indefinite limit southward. It 
 embraces the modern kingdoms of Tunis and Tripoli. Sometimes Libya 
 is used for the whole African continent. The tufted isles are those ver- 
 dant spots, of great beauty and utility, that are occasionally met with 
 in crossing the vast sandy deserts of Africa. They are watered by 
 springs. The name Oasis is usually applied to such a spot. Thesfl 
 spots being sometimes found in clusters, the word tufted is here used to 
 express that fact. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 That verdant rise amid the Libyan wild, 
 Innumerous glare around their shaggy king, 925 
 
 Majestic stalking o'er the printed sand ; 
 And, with imperious and repeated roars, 
 Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks 
 Crowd near the guardian swain. The nobler herds, 
 Where round their lordly bull in rural ease 930 
 
 They ruminating lie, with horror hear 
 The coming rage. Th' awaken'd village starts ; 
 And to her fluttering breast the mother strains 
 Her thoughtless infant. From the pirate's den, 
 Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang escaped, 935 
 
 The wretch half wishes for his bonds again : 
 While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds, 
 From Atlas eastward to the frighted Nile. 
 _JjJnhappy he ! who from the first of joys, V 
 Society, cut off, is left alone 940 
 
 Amid this world of death. Day after day, 
 Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, 
 And views the main that ever toils below ; 
 Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, 
 Where the round ether mixes with the wave, 945 
 
 Ships, dim-discover'd, dropping from the clouds : 
 At evening, to the setting sun he turns 
 A mournful eye, and down his dying heart 
 Sinks helpless ; while the wonted roar is up, ~^ 1 
 And hiss continual through the tedious night. 950 
 
 - I Yet here, e'en here, into these black abodes 
 I Of monsters, unappall'd, from stooping Rome, 
 And guilty Caesar, Liberty retired, 
 
 925. Shaggy king : The lion. 
 
 938. Atlas : A range of mountains in the northwestern part of Afri- 
 ca, extending to the Great Sahara desert southward. Its higher summits 
 are covered with perpetual snow, being about 12,000 feet high above the 
 level of the ocean. 
 
148 SUMMER. 
 
 5 Her Cato following through Numidian wilds : 
 
 
 Disdainful of Campania's gentle plains, 955 
 
 And all the green delights Ausonia pours ; 
 When for them she must bend the servile knee, 
 And fawning take the splendid robber's boon. 
 
 THE CARAVAN OF MECCA. 
 
 Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. 
 Commission'd demons oft, angels of wrath, 960 
 
 Let loose the raging elements. Breathed hot 
 From all the boundless furnace of the sky, 
 And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, 
 A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites 
 With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, 965 
 
 Son of the desert ! even the camel feels, 
 Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast. 
 Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, 
 Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands, 
 Commoved around, in gathering eddies play : 970 
 
 Nearer and nearer still they darkening come ; 
 - Till, with the general, all-involving storm 
 Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise ; 
 
 954. Cato : Marcus Cato, the great-grandson of M. Portius Cato, the 
 Censor. When Rome was stooping to the yoke of designing men ; 
 when Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus formed a triumvirate for purposes 
 adverse to popular liberty, he opposed them. After the triumph of 
 Julius Caasar over his rival, Ponfpey, the friends of the Roman Republic 
 rallied their forces in Africa under the guidance of Cato and Scipio, and 
 enjoyed the aid of the king of Numidia. But these forces were defeat- 
 ed, and Cato, rather than fall into the hands of Caesar, put an end to his 
 own life with a dagger, at Utica, from which occurrence he is known by 
 the surname of Uticensis. This defeat reduced to an entire wreck the 
 republican party, and elevated "guilty" Cassar to imperial power, in 
 fact, though not in name. 
 
 955-G. Campania : A fertile and much celebrated district of Southern 
 Italy. Ausonia designates the entire southern part of Italy. 
 
SUMMER. 149 
 
 And by their noonday fount dejected thrown, 
 
 Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, 975 
 
 Beneath descending hills, the caravan 
 
 Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets, 
 
 Th' impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, 
 
 And Mecca saddens at the long delay. 
 
 DISASTERS IN TROPICAL SEAS. 
 
 But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave "^ 980 
 
 Obeys the blast, th' aerial tumult swells. 
 In the dread ocean, undulating wide, 
 Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, 
 The circling Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, 
 Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, 985 
 
 And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, 
 Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck 
 Compress'd, the mighty tempest brooding dwells. 
 Of no regard, save to the skilful eye, 
 
 Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs 990 
 
 Aloft, or on the promontory's brow 
 Musters its force. A faint, deceitful calm, 
 A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, 
 To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, 
 Precipitant descends a mingled mass 995 
 
 Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. 
 In wild amazement fix'd, the sailor stands. 
 Art is too slow : by rapid fate oppress'd, 
 His broad-wing'd vessel drinks the whelming tide, 
 Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. 1000 
 
 984-6. Typhon and Ecnephia : Names of particular storms or hurri- 
 canes known only between the tropics. 
 
 98.7. Cloudy speck : Called by sailors the Ox-eye, being in appearance, 
 at first, no larger. 
 
150 SUMMER. 
 
 With such mad seas the daring Gama fought, 
 For many a day, and many a dreadful night, 
 \^ Incessant, laboring round the stormy Cape ; 
 By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst 
 Of gold. For then, from ancient gloom, emerged 1005 
 The rising world of trade. The Genius, then, 
 Of navigation, that in hopeless sloth, 
 Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep, 
 For idle ages, starting, heard at last 
 
 The Lusitanian prince ; who, heaven-inspired, 1010 
 
 To love of useful glory roused mankind, 
 And in unbounded commerce mix'd the world. 
 
 Increasing still the terrors of these storms, 
 >His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, 
 - Here dwells the direful shark. Lured by the scent 1015 
 Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, 
 
 1001. Gama : Vasco De Gama, the first who sailed round Africa by 
 the Cape of Good Hope ; and pursued his voyage along the eastern 
 coast of Africa to Malabar, in 1498. 
 
 1010. The Lusitanian prince : The Portuguese prince (Lusitania be- 
 ing the Latin name of Portugal) here spoken of was Don Henry, the 
 fourth son of John the First, king of Portugal a man of an accom- 
 plished mind, enlarged views, daring enterprise, and lofty patriotism, 
 by whom the Portuguese were excited to great improvements and dis- 
 coveries in navigation. He had the address also to enlist in favor of his 
 schemes a Papal decree, issued at his entreaty by Pope Eugene IV., by 
 which all the countries that should be discovered south of Cape Non in 
 Africa should be under the exclusive jurisdiction of Portugal, the prince 
 having promised to establish in them the authority of the " Holy See." 
 The spirit of discovery, being thus associated with a zeal for religion, 
 was greatly strengthened. It received a check, however, for a time, by 
 the death of this enterprising prince in 1463. In that dark age, no 
 doubt was entertained of the power of the Roman Pontiff to assign to 
 what government he chose, the dominion of the yet undiscovered por- 
 tions of the earth. 
 
 1016. Steaming crowd*: Some of the horrors of the slave-trade are 
 here powerfully drawn ; those that occur in the slave-ship from crowd- 
 ing hundreds in the hold depriving them of pure air and exercise, and 
 opportunity for cleanliness and engendering fatal disease, so that a 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 151 
 
 Behold ! he rushing cuts the briny flood, 
 
 Swift as the gale can bear the ship along, 
 
 And, fromjjie paytaers_o that^crjgel trade 
 
 Which spoils unharygyj^-^iripa. $ fag* snns r 1020 
 
 Demands his share of prey ; demands themselves. 
 
 The stormy fates descend ; one death involves 
 
 Tyrants and slaves ; when straight, their mangled limbs 
 
 Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas 
 
 With gore, and riots in. the vengeful meal. 1025 
 
 PESTILENCE AT CARTHAGENA THE PLAGUE. 
 
 When o'er this world, by equinoctial rains 
 Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, if 
 
 And draws the copious steam ; from swampy fens, 
 Where putrefaction into life ferments, 
 And breathes destructive myriads ; or from woods, 1030 
 " Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, 
 In vapors rank and blue corruption wrapp'd, 
 Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot 
 Has ever dared to pierce ; then wasteful, forth 
 Walks the dire Power of pestilent disease. 1035 
 
 A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, 
 Sick Nature blasting, and to heartless woe, 
 And feeble desolation, casting down 
 The towering hopes and all the pride of man : 
 Such as, of late, at Carthagena quench'd 1040 
 
 The British fire. You, gallant Yernon, saw 
 The miserable scene ; you, pitying, saw 
 
 very large proportion of the slaves put on board is lost during the 
 passage. 
 
 1042. Carthagena : A city of Colombia, South America. It stands 
 upon an island, winch is joined to the main-land by two bridges. In 
 1826 its population was 26,000. The pestilence occurred in 1740, when 
 Admiral Vernon was endeavoring to take the town, and was one of the 
 
152 SUMMER. 
 
 To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; 
 Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form, 
 
 ^The lip ^ale-quivering, and the beamless^eye. 1045 
 
 No more with ardor bright. You heard the groans 
 Of agonizing ships from shore to shore ; 
 Heard, nightly plunged amid the sullen waves, 
 The frequent corse ; while on each other fix'd, 
 In sad presage, the blank assistants seem'd, 1050 
 
 Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. 
 S What need I mention those inclement skies, 
 
 f Where, frequent o'er the sickening city, Plague, 
 The fiercest child of Nemesis divine, 
 
 Descends ? From Ethiopia's poison'd woods, 1055 
 
 From stifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields 
 With locust armies putrefying heap'd, 
 This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rage 
 The brutes escape : man is her destined prey, 
 Intemperate man ! and, o'er his guilty domes, 1060 
 
 events that prevented him from completing his design. See Rissell's 
 Modern Europe, vol. ii. 414-17. 
 
 104G-9. You heard, <fcc. : Xot only the eye, but the ear, is called as a 
 witness, and a terrible one it proves. C. This passage in the poem has 
 been thus judiciously characterized by Dr. Blair : All the circumstances 
 are properly chosen, for setting this dismal scene in a strong light before 
 our eyes. But what is most striking in the picture, is the last image. 
 "SVe are conducted through all the scenes of distress till we come to the 
 mortality prevailing in the fleet, which a vulgar poet would have de- 
 scribed by exaggerated expressions concerning the multiplied trophies 
 and victories of death. But how much more is the imagination impress- 
 ed by this single circumstance of dead bodies thrown overboard every 
 night ; of the constant sound of their falling into the waters, and of the 
 Admiral listening to this melancholy sound so often striking the ear ! 
 This passage shows the power of a single well-chosen circumstance to 
 heighten a description. 
 
 1054. jVijMem divine : Allusion is here made to a Grecian goddess, the 
 personification of the retributive justice of the gods. The Plague is here 
 poetically represented as her child, because it is often employed as an in- 
 fetrument of divine justice and retribution. 
 
 1055-8. Dr. Mead assigns these as causes of the plague. 
 
SUMMER. 153 
 
 She draws a close incumbent cloud of deatli ; 
 
 Uninterrupted by the living winds, 
 
 Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze ; and stain'd 
 
 With many a mixture by the sun, suffused, 
 
 Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, 1065 
 
 Dejects his watchful eye ; and from the hand 
 
 Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop 
 
 The sword and balance. Mute the voice of joy, 
 
 And hush'd the clamor of the busy world. 
 
 Empty the streets, with uncouth verdure clad; 1070 
 
 Into the worst of deserts sudden turn'd 
 
 The cheerful haunt of men ; unless escaped 
 
 From the doom'd house, where matchless horror reigns, 
 
 Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch, 
 
 With phrensy wild, breaks loose ; and, loud to Heaven 1075 
 
 Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, 
 
 Inhuman, and unwise. The sullen door, 
 
 Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge 
 
 Fearing to turn, abhors society : 
 
 Dependents, friends, relations, Love himself, 1080 
 
 Savaged by woe, forget the tender tie, 
 
 The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. 
 
 But vain their selfish care : the circling sky, 
 
 The wide enlivening air is full of fate ; 
 
 And, struck by turns, in solitaVy pangs 1085 
 
 They fall, unbless'd, untended, and unmourn'd. 
 
 Thus o'er the prostrate city black Despair 
 
 Extends her raven wing ; while, to complete 
 
 1068. The sword and balance: The instruments, or emblems, of Jus- 
 tice : the balance to determine the amount of wrong to be punished, and 
 the sword to inflict the appropriate punishment. 
 
 1084. Fate : Death as an unavoidable event. 
 
 1088. Raven wing : The raven has always been regarded by the supersti 
 tious as a bird of ill omen ; and much (says Mrs. Ellis) as we may be disposed 
 to despise such prognostications as the flight or the cry of different birds, 
 there is something in the habits, but especially in the voice of the raven, 
 
154 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, 
 
 The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, 1090 
 
 And give the flying wretch a better death. 
 Much yet remains unsung : the rage intense 
 
 Of brazen vaulted skies, of iron fields, 
 
 Where drought and famine starve the blasted year ; 
 
 Fired by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, 1095 
 
 Th' infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame ; 
 
 And, roused within the subterranean world, 
 
 Th 7 expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes 
 
 Aspiring cities from their solid base, 
 
 j And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. 1100 
 
 ^ .But 'tis enough. Return, my vagrant Muse : 
 * > A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. 
 
 v l 
 
 A TREMENDOUS STORM IX BRITAIN, y 
 
 ,A 
 
 f-H* Behold, slow settling o'er the lurid grove, 
 ^T Unusual darkness broods ; and growing gains 
 K The full possession of the sky, surcharged . 1105 
 
 With wrathful vapor, from the secret beds, 
 Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. 
 Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume 
 
 which gives it a strange and almost fearful character. It seems to hold 
 no communion with the joyous spirits, to have no association with the 
 happy scenes of earth, but leads a lengthened and unsocial life amongst 
 the gloomy shades of the venerable forest, in the deep recesses of the 
 pathless mountain, or on the rocky summit of the beetling crag that over- 
 looks the ocean's blue abyss ; and when it goes forth, with its sable pin- 
 ions spread like the wings of a dark angel upon the wind, its hoarse and 
 hollow croak echoes from rock to rock, as if telling, in those dreary and 
 appalling tones, of the fleshy feast to which it is hastening, of the death- 
 pangs of the mountain deer, of the cry of the perishing kid, and of the 
 bones of the shipwrecked seaman whitening in the surge. 
 
 1103-68. The coming of the summer thunder-storm is painted by a 
 masterly hand terrible at once, and soft. C. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, 
 
 With various-tinctured trains of latent flame, ] 
 
 Pollute the sky, and in yon baleful cloud, 
 
 A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate 
 
 Ferment ; till, by the touch ethereal roused, 
 
 The dash of clouds, or irritating war 
 
 Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, 1 
 
 They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, 
 
 Dread through the dun expanse ; save the dull sound 
 
 That from the mountain, previous to the storm, 
 
 Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, 
 
 And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath. 1 
 
 Prone to the lowest vale the aerial tribes 
 
 Descend : the tempest-loving raven scarce ^- 
 
 Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
 
 The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
 
 Cast a deploring eye ; by man forsook, 1 
 
 Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, 
 
 Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. 
 
 'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all : 
 When to the startled eye the sudden glance * 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud ; ] 
 
 And, following slower, in explosion vast, 
 The thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
 At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
 The tempest growls ; but as it nearer comes, 
 And rolls its awful burden on the wind, ] 
 
 The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
 The noise astounds : till overhead a sheet 
 Of livid flame discloses wide ; then shuts 
 And opens wider ; shuts and opens still ^ ' 
 Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. ] 
 
 Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, 
 
 1113. Touch ethereal : Application of lightning or electricity. 
 
156 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Enlarging, deepening, mingling ; peal on peal 
 
 Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 
 
 Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, 
 Or prone- descending rain. Wide rent, the clouds 1145 
 Pour a whole flood ; and yet, its flnme unquench'd, 
 TV unconquerable lightning struggles through, 
 Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, 
 And fires the mountains with redoubled ra^e 
 
 o 
 
 Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine 1150 
 Stands a sad shatter'd trunk ; and, stretch'd below, 
 A lifeless group, the blasted cattle lie : 
 Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 
 They wore alive, and ruminating still 
 
 In fancy's eye ; and there the frowning bull, 1155 
 
 And ox half-raised. Struck on the castled cliff, 
 The venerable tower and spiry fane 
 Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods 
 iStart at the flash, and from their deep recess, 
 \Wide flaming out, their trembling inmates shake. 1160 
 
 * 'Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud 
 The repercussive roar : with mighty crush, 
 
 1150-56. Black from the stroke, &c. : Dugald Stewart selects this pas- 
 sage as an example of the picturesque in writing, by which he means that 
 graphical power by which poetry and eloquence produce effects on the 
 mind analogous to those of a picture. He does not limit that epithet to 
 objects of sight, but extends it to all those details, of whatever kind, by 
 a happy selection of which the imagination may be forcibly impressed. 
 The epithet picturesque is also applied by Dr. "Wart on to a passage in 
 " Winter" (732-38), where every circumstance mentioned recalls some 
 impression upon the ear alone. STEWARTS WORKS, vol. iv. 224-5. 
 
 1161. Carnarvon, or Caernarvonshire, is a northern county of Wales, 
 very rugged. Its mountains are called in general the Cambrian Alps 
 Snowde?i's peak occupies a lofty central position among them, being 3571 
 feet above the level of the sea. Pemnaenmaur is an inferior mountain 
 elevation in the same county. The Cheviot heights are a range of low 
 mountains in the north of England, and passing beyond the border into 
 Scotland. They are chiefly famous as the scene of bloody warfare be- 
 tween the English and the Scotch before the union of the two kingdoms. 
 
SUMMEK. 157 
 
 Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks 
 
 Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the sky, 
 
 Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowden's peak, 1165 
 
 Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. 
 
 Far seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, 
 
 And Thule bellows through her utmost isles. 
 
 SAD TALE OF CELADON AND AMELIA. 
 
 Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply troubled thought ; 
 And yet not always on the guilty head 1170 
 
 Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon 
 And his Amelia were a matchless pair ; 
 With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, 
 The same, distinguish 'd by their sex alone : 
 Hers the mild lustre of the blooming mornj 1175 
 
 And his the radiance of the risen day. j 
 | They loved : but such the guileless passion was, 
 As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart 
 
 Of innocence, and undissemblino: truth : \ 
 / I \ 
 
 V 'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual wisnN 1180 
 
 Th' enchanting hope and sympathetic glow, 
 Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all 
 * To love, each was to each a dearer self ; 
 Supremely happy in th' awaken'd power 
 Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, 1185 
 
 Still in harmonious intercourse they lived 
 
 The ancient ballad of Chevy Chace celebrates the fierce encounter be- 
 tween the Earls Percy and Douglas. 
 
 1168. Thule : Thomson speaks of her utmost isles, as they at one time 
 formed the extreme northern limit of geographical knowledge, and hence 
 called Ultima Thule. There is a dispute about the precise location desig- 
 nated by this name among the ancients. The Thule mentioned by Taci- 
 tus corresponds with Mainland, the largest of the forty Shetland islands 
 off the northern coast of Scotland. To this Thomson seems to refer. 
 
 1178. Informed: Animated. 
 
158 SUMMER. 
 
 The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, 
 > Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things. *~^T~ 
 
 So pass'd their life, a clear, united stream, 
 By care unruffled ; till, in evil hour, il90 
 
 The tempest caught them on the tender walk, 
 Heedless how far and where its mazes stray'd ; 
 While, with each other bless'd, creative love 
 Still bade eternal Eden smile around. 
 
 Presaging instant fate, her bosom heaved 1195 
 
 Unwonted sighs, and, stealing oft a look 
 Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye 
 Fell tearful, wetting her disordered cheek. 
 In vain, assuring love and confidence 
 
 In Heaven repress'd her fear ; it grew, and shook 1200 
 Her frame near dissolution. He perceived 
 Th' unequal conflict ; and as angels look 
 On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, 
 With love illumined high. " Fear not," he said, 
 " Sweet innocence ! thou stranger to offence, 1205 
 
 And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves 
 In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee 
 With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft 
 That wastes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour 
 Of noon, flies harmless ; and that very voice, 1210 
 
 Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, 
 With tongues of seraphs, whispers peace to thine. 
 'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus 
 To clasp perfection !" From his void embrace, 
 (Mysterious Heaven !) that moment, to the ground, 1215 
 A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid. 
 But who can paint the lover, as he stood, 
 Pierced by severe amazement, hating life, 
 
 1193. Creative love : Their mutual love transformed the scene around 
 them into another Eden, or caused them to regard it as such. 
 
SUMMER. 159 
 
 s, and fix'd in all the death of woe ! 
 So, (faint resemblance !) on the marble tomb, 1220 
 
 The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, 
 Forever silent and forever sad. 
 
 As from the face of heaven, the shatter 'd clouds 
 Tumultuous rove, th' interminable sky 
 Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands 1225 
 
 A purer azure. Through the lighten'd air, 
 A higher lustre and a clearer calm, 
 Diffusive, tremble ; while, as if in sign 
 Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, 
 Set off abundant by the yellow ray, 1230 
 
 Invests the fields ; and nature smiles, revived. 
 
 'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, V 
 Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat / 
 Of flocks, thick nibbling through the clover'd vale 
 And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless man, 1235 
 Most favor'd ! who with voice articulate 
 Should lead the chorus of this lower world ? 
 Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand 
 That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, 
 Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest waked, 1240 
 
 That sense of powers exceeding far his own, 
 Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears ? 
 
 Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth 
 Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth *~ 
 A sandy bottom shows. A while he stands , 1245 
 Gazing th' inverted landscape, half afraid 
 To meditate the bliie^pa^ofeaftd- below ; / ~~" 
 
 Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. 
 His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek 
 
 1235-42. Hazlitt has well remarked of Thomson, that he always giv^esl 
 a moral sense to nature. His reflections are often, as here, of a highly 1 
 practical and useful character. 
 
 1246. Gazing : Gazing at, <fcc. 
 
160 SUMMKK. 
 
 Instant emerge: and, through th' obedient wave, 1250 
 
 At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, 
 
 With arms and legs according well, he makes, 
 
 As humor leads, an easy- winding path ; 
 
 While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light 
 
 Effuses on the pleased spectators round. 1255 
 
 This is the purest exercise of health, 
 The kind refresher of the Summer heats ; 
 Nor when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, 
 Would I weak shivering lino-er on the brink. 
 
 w' ~ ^ 
 
 Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserved, 1260 
 
 By the bold swimmer, in the swift elapse 
 
 Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 
 
 Knit into force ; and the same Roman arm, 
 
 That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, 
 
 First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. 1266 
 
 E'en from the body's purity, the mind 
 
 Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 
 
 DAMON AND MUSIDORA. 
 
 Close in the covert of a hazel copse, 
 Where winding into pleasing solitudes 
 Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, 1270 
 
 Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs. 
 There, to the stream that down the distant rocks 
 Hoarse murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd 
 Among the bending willows, falsely he 
 Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd. 1275 
 
 She felt his flame ; but deep within her breast 
 In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, 
 The soft return conceal'd ; save when it stole 
 
 1263. Roman arm : Probably that of Julius Caesar, whose swimming 
 across the Tiber Shakspeare describes. 
 
SUMMER. 161 
 
 In sidelong glances from her, downcast eye, 
 
 Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. 1280 
 
 Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, 
 
 He framed a melting lay, to try her heart ; 
 
 And, if an infant passion struggled there, 
 
 To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain ! 
 
 A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate 1285 
 
 Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. 
 
 For lo ! conducted by the laughing Loves, 
 
 This cool retreat his Musidora sought. 
 
 Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd ; 
 
 And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe 1290 
 
 Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. 
 
 What shall he do ? In sweet confusion lost, 
 
 And dubious flutterings, he a while remained. 
 
 A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, 
 
 A delicate refinement, known to few, 1295 
 
 Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire ; 
 
 But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, 
 
 Say, ye severest, what would you have done ? 
 
 Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bless'd 
 
 Arcadian stream, with timid eye around 1300 
 
 1288, (fee. Musidora, &c. : Some remarks of Chambers may here interest 
 the reader : Though born a poet, Thomson seems to have advanced but 
 ' slowly, and by reiterated efforts, to refinement of taste. The natural fer- 
 vor of the man overpowered the rules of the scholar. The first edition 
 of the " Seasons" differs materially from the second, and the second still 
 more from the third. Every alteration was an improvement in delicacy 
 of thought and language, of which we may mention one instance. In the 
 scene between Damon and Musidora " the solemnly-ridiculous bathing," 
 as Campbell had justly termed it the poet had originally introduced 
 three damsels. Some corrections in the language also were made, by 
 which greater propriety has been secured. 
 
 1300. Arcadian stream: Arcadia, in Peloponnesus, was the Alpine 
 region of Greece, and the source of many rivers and lesser streams. It 
 was wild, romantic, and in some parts fertile just the region for fair 
 Nymphs and other similar deities of the imaginative Greeks. 
 
162 SUMMER. 
 
 The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs, 
 To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. 
 Ah then ! not Paris on the piny top 
 Of Ida panted stronger, when aside 
 
 The rival goddesses the veil divine 1305 
 
 Cast unconfined, and gave him all their charms, 
 Than, Damon, thou ; as from the snowy leg, 
 And slender foot, th' inverted silk she drew ; 
 As the soft touch dissolved the virgin zone ; 
 And, through the parting robe, th' alternate breast, 1310 
 With youth wild throbbing, on the lawless gaze 
 In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, 
 How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view ; 
 As from her naked limbs of glowing white, 
 Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, 1315 
 
 In folds loose floating fell the fainter lawn ; 
 And fair exposed she stood, shrunk from herself, 
 With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze 
 Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn ? 
 Then to the flood she rush'd ; the parted flood 1320 
 
 Its lovely guest with closing waves received ; 
 And every beauty softening, every grace 
 Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 
 I As shines the lily through the crystal mild ; 
 Or as the rose amid the morning dew, 1325 
 
 Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows. 
 
 1303. Paris, son of Priam king of ancient Troy. The classical fable, 
 so far as alluded to, is briefly this, as given by Anthon : Juno, Minerva, 
 and Venus, each laving claim to be more beautiful than the rest, and Jove 
 being unwilling to decide, the god commanded Mercury to lead the three 
 deities to Mount Ida (near Troy), and to intrust the decision of the affair 
 to the shepherd Alexaifthr (another name for Paris), whose judgment was 
 to be definitive. The goddesses appeared before him, and urged their 
 respective claims, and each, to influence his decision, made him an allur- 
 ing offer of future advantage. 
 
 1326. Aurora 's hand : Another beautiful fiction of Grecian poets, rep- 
 
SUMMER. 163 
 
 While thus she wanton'd, now beneath the wave 
 
 But ill conceal'd ; and now with streaming locks, 
 
 That half embraced her in a humid veil, 
 
 Rising again, the latent Damon drew 1330 
 
 Such maddening draughts of beauty to the soul, 
 
 As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptured thought 
 
 With luxury too daring. Check'd, at last, 
 
 By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd 
 
 The theft profane, if aught profane to love 1335 
 
 Can e'er be deem'd ; and, struggling from the shade, 
 
 With headlong hurry fled : but first these lines, 
 
 Traced by his ready pencil, on the bank 
 
 With trembling hand he threw : " Bathe on, my fair, 
 
 Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye 1340 
 
 Of faithful love : I go to guard thy haunt, 
 
 To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, 
 
 And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, 
 
 As if to marble struck, de\ 7 oid of sense, 
 
 A stupid moment motionless she stood; 1345 
 
 So stands the statue that enchants the world ; 
 
 resenting the goddess of the morning dawn. " Homer describes her as 
 wearing a flowing veil, which she throws back to denote the dispersion 
 of night, and as opening with her rosy fingers the gates of day. Others 
 represent her as a Nymph cnnvned with flowers, with a star above her 
 head, standing in a chariot drawn by winged horses, while in one hand 
 she holds a torch, and with the other scatters roses, as illustrative of the 
 flowers springing from the dew, which the poets describe as diffused from 
 the eyes of the goddess in liquid pearls." ANTHOX. 
 
 1346. The statue, (fee.: That of Venus cle Medicis at Florence. The 
 Royal Gallery at Florence (says Dr. Wilbur Fisk) is a collection of stat- 
 uary, ancient and modern, made by the successive sovereigns of Tuscany, 
 and especially by the Medici family. The princes of this family, who ap- 
 pear to owe their first elevation to wealth accumulated in the commerce 
 of the Levant, applied a portion of their vast means to the encourage- 
 ment of the arts and of literature, and to the collection of the most rare 
 specimens of the ancient artists that had survived the wreck of the north- 
 ern barbarians. Here among other ancient statues is the famous Venus 
 of Medici, that chef tf&uvre of art, the beau ideal of beauty, the wonder 
 
164: SUMMEK. 
 
 So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, 
 
 The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. 
 
 Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes 
 
 Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array 'd 1350 
 
 In careless haste, th' alarming paper snatch'd. 
 
 But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw, 
 
 Her terrors vanish 'd, and a softer train 
 
 Of mix'd emotions, hard to be described, 
 
 Her sudden bosom seized : shame void of guilt, 1355 
 
 The charming blush of innocence, esteem, 
 
 And admiration of her lover's flame, 
 
 By modesty exalted. E'en a sense 
 
 Of self-approving beauty stole across 
 
 Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm 1360 
 
 Hush'd by degrees the tumult of her soul ; 
 
 And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream 
 
 Incumbent hung, she with a sylvan pen 
 
 Of rural lovers, this confession carved, 
 
 Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy : 1365 
 
 " Dear youth ! sole judge of what these verses mean, 
 
 By fortune too much favor'd, but by love, 
 
 Alas ! not favor'd less, be still as now 
 
 Discreet ; the time may come you need not fly." 
 
 of the world. This statue was found in Adrian's villa at Rome, and is 
 very generally attributed to Praxiteles, the Greek artist, and, if correct- 
 ly, it has been in being between twenty-one and twenty-two hundred 
 years, as Praxiteles flourished more than three hundred years before the 
 Christian era ! 
 
 Another Venus has risen up at Florence in modern days, from the 
 chisel of Canova, which, in the opinion of some, rivals the antique. It ev- 
 idently has the advantage of the other in that she has a drapery thrown 
 around her, which, instead of concealing, rather heightens her charms ; 
 and also that she has, in the judgment of many, a better head and a no- 
 bler countenance ; but the limbs and general form are in other respects 
 inferior. But to be only inferior to the former is great merit ; and to be 
 superior in any respect is more meritorious stilL 
 
converse 
 
 1380 
 
 SUMMER. 165 
 
 THE SOFT HOUR FOB WALKING. 
 
 The sun has lost his rage : his downward orb 1370 
 
 Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, 
 
 And vital lustre ; that, with various ray, OjU^-vv- 
 
 Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven, 
 
 Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes, 
 \, The dream of waking fancy ! Broad below, 1375 
 
 Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast , 
 
 Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth 
 
 And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour 
 
 /Of walking comes, for him, wh 
 
 -, I To seek the distant hills, and there 
 
 I With Nature ; there to harmonize his heart, 
 
 And in pathetic song to breathe around 
 j The harmony to others. Social friends, 
 
 Attuned to happy unison of soul, 
 
 To whose exalting eye a fairer world, 1385 
 
 Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, 
 
 Displays its charms ; whose minds are richly fraught 
 
 With philosophic stores, superior light ; 
 
 And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns 
 
 Virtue, the sons of int'rest deem romance,-^^ 1390 
 
 Now call'd abroad, enjoy the falling day : 
 
 Now to the verdant Portico of woods, 
 
 1392-3. Portico: There seems to be a reference here to the porch of 
 Zeno at Athens, in which he delivered his philosophical lectures. His 
 followers were hence called Stoics, or men of the porch. It was a public 
 portico, adorned with paintings of the best Grecian masters. The 
 Lyceum was an inclosure, sacred to Apollo, near Athens, on the right 
 bank of the Ilissus, just beyond the city proper. It was adorned by 
 Pisistratus, Pericles, and Lycurgus, with fountains, buildings, and planta- 
 tions, and thus became a favorite place of exercise for the Athenian 
 youths that were preparing for military service. It was also a common 
 resort for philosophers and students. Aristotle and his successors gave 
 instruction there while walking about, and were hence denominated 
 Peripatetics. Some suppose, however, that this name was derived from 
 
166 SUMMER. 
 
 To Nature's vast Lyceum, forth they walk ; 
 . By that kind school where no proud master reigns, 
 The full, free converse of the friendly heart, 1395 
 
 Improving and improved. Now from the world, 
 Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, 
 And pour their souls in transport, which the Sire 
 love approving hears, and calls it good. 
 Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course ? 1400 
 The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we choose ? 
 All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind 
 Along the streams ? or walk the smiling mead ? 
 Or court the forest glades ? or wander wild 
 Among the waving harvest ? or ascend, 1405 
 
 While radfont Summer opens all its pride, 
 Thy hill, delightful Shene ? Here let us sweep 
 The boundless landscape : now the raptured eye, 
 Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send ; m 
 
 Now to the Sister-hills that skirt her plain, 1410 
 
 To lofty Harrow now, and now to where 
 
 the public walk in the Lyceum, where Aristotle and his disciples were 
 accustomed to meet for purposes of instruction. Thomson, in the next 
 line, refers to Aristotle as a " proud master." He was the teacher of 
 Alexander the Great, and by his able writings on various subjects ex- 
 erted, for nearly two thousand years, a prodigious and unrivalled influ- 
 ence over the human mind, in literature, science, and religion. He was the 
 father of the scholastic philosophy of the middle ages, which Bacon 
 Descartes had the honor of overthrowing. 
 
 1400. Amanda: The lady to whom Thomson was ardently attached- 
 Miss Young, of whom an account is given in note 480, "Spring." 
 
 1407. tihene : The old name of Richmond, signifying, in Saxon, Shinin 
 or Splendor. It is a village nine miles from London, celebrated for it* 
 beautiful royal gardens, an observatory, and park. Here was a palace 
 in which died Edward III., Henry YIL, and Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 1409. Huge Augusta : The huge city of London, whose Latin name 
 was Augusta. 
 
 1410. Sister-hills: Highgate and Hampstead. 
 
 1411. Harrow : Harrow is situated ten miles N. W. of London, on one 
 of the highest hills in the country. This village commands a fine pros- 
 pect of London. 
 
SUMMER. 167 
 
 Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. 
 
 In lovely contrast to this glorious view 
 
 Calmly magnificent, then will we turn 
 
 To where the silver Thames first rural grows. 1415 
 
 There let the feasted eye unwearied stray ; 
 
 Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods, 
 
 That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat ; 
 
 And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, 
 
 Beneath whose shades, in spotless peace retired, 1420 
 
 With her, the pleasing partner of his heart, 
 
 The worthy Queensberry yet laments his Gay, 
 
 1412. Windsor : This town is twenty-two miles west of London, seat- 
 ed on an eminence on the bank of the Thames. "The picturesque beauty 
 of its scenery, its noble forest, and the interesting historical associations 
 connected with the vicinity, all combine to confer upon it peculiar at- 
 tractions : but it owes its chief celebrity to its magnificent castle, the 
 favorite residence of a long line of kings. This castle stands upon a 
 high hill, which rises from the town by a gentle ascent ; and its fine ter- 
 race, faced with a rampart of free-stone, 1870 feet in length, is one of the 
 noblest walks in Europe, with respect to strength, grandeur, and pros- 
 pects. It was built originally by William the Conqueror, and enlarged 
 by Henry I. Great additions have been made to it by subsequent mon- 
 archs. From that part of the castle called the Round Tower, the eye 
 embraces one of the most noble and extensive prospects in England ; for 
 not fewer than twelve counties may be discerned with the naked eye ; 
 while the landscape presents every combination of picturesque beauty." 
 BROOKE. 
 
 1418. Harrington: The Earl of Harrington, appointed Secretary of 
 State in 1742. 
 
 1422. The Duke of Queensbcrry toolc Gay, the humorous poet and 
 dramatist, into his house, and gave him a home during the latter part of 
 his life. He also, with the Duchess, " the pleasing partner of his heart,'* 
 erected a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey. Gay was 
 born in 1688, and died in 1732. He was a popular, but immoral writer 
 a companion of Swift, and of Pope. The latter characterized him as 
 
 Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; 
 In wit a man, simplicity a child. 
 
 The epitaph in Westminster Abbey, written for and by himself, consists 
 of the following lines : 
 
 Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
 I thought so once, and now I know it 
 
168 SUMMER. 
 
 And polish'd Cornbury woos the willing Muse. 
 
 Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames ; 
 
 Fair winding* up to where the Muses haunt 1425 
 
 In Twit'ham's bowers, and for their Pope implore 
 
 The healing God ; to royal Hampton's pile, 
 
 " Not so," remarks Dr. Fisk : " by this time he has doubtless discovered 
 that life is a momentous reality ; short, it is true, but pregnant with fu- 
 ture and eternal consequences ! What an imposition upon the living, and 
 what an insult to the dead, is such an epitaph !" 
 
 1423. Cornbury : Probably one of the sons of Edward Hyde, earl of 
 Clarendon. 
 
 1426. Ticit' ham's bowers: The village of Twickenham, on the Thames, 
 not far from London, was selected by Alexander Pope as his residence, 
 and there, in a beautiful villa, he passed some twenty years of the latter 
 part of his life. The taste with which Pope laid out the grounds he had 
 leased (five acres in all) produced, it is said, a decided effect upon Eng- 
 lish landscape gardening. Previously the stiff, formal Dutch style had 
 prevailed, but he was greatly instrumental in bringing it into disrepute. 
 This distinguished poet and satirist, author of the " Essay on Man," was 
 born in 1688, and died in 1744. His villa was the frequent resort of 
 great statesmen, poets, wits, and female beauties, attracted thither by 
 his wit, his fancy, good sense, exquisite taste, and other accomplishments. 
 He had a feeble constitution, and was subjected at last to a long illness, 
 to which reference is made by Thomson. 
 
 It is the more natural in Thomson to refer to Pope, as; like himself, 
 Pope was an intimate friend of Lord Lyttleton, and a visitor at Hagley 
 Park and Hall. Hugh Miller informs us that he observed there a beauti- 
 ful spot " which had been as favorite a retreat of Pope as two others of 
 Thomson and Shenstone, and in which an elaborately carved urn and ped- 
 estal records Lyttleton's estimate of his powers as a writer, and his views 
 as a moralist : ' the sweetest and most elegant,' says the inscription, ' of 
 English poets ; the severest chastiser of vice, and the most persuasive 
 teacher of wisdom.' The little crooked man, during the lust thirteen 
 years of his life, was a frequent visitor at Hagley ; and it is still (1845) a 
 tradition in the neighborhood, that in the hollow in which his urn hns 
 been erected he particularly delighted. He forgot Gibber, Sporuv, and 
 Lord Fanny ; Run* up with much glee his poor shapeles- lei:>, thickened 
 by three pairs of stocking apiece, and far from thick, after all; and called 
 the place ; his o\vn groand.' It certainly does no discredit to the taste 
 that originated the gorgeous though somewhat indistinct descriptions of 
 ' Windsor !' 
 
 14-27. Hampton's pile : The royal palace at Hampton, on the Thames, 
 thirteen miles S. W. of London. This palace was originally built by Car- 
 
169 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 To Clermont's terraced height, and ! 
 
 Where in the sweetest solitude, embraced 
 
 By the soft windings of the silent Mole, 
 
 From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. 
 
 Enchanting vale ! beyond whate'er the Muse 
 
 Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung ! 
 
 vale of bliss ! softly swelling hills ! 
 
 On which the power of cultivation lies, 1435 
 
 And joys to see the wonders of his toil. 
 
 COMPLIMENTARY ADDRESS TO BRITAIN. 
 
 , . Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
 Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns; and spires, 
 
 dinal Woolsey, and presented by him to Henry VIII. ; but was nearly 
 superseded by the present palace, erected by William IIL The gar- 
 dens, parks, and buildings occupy a space four miles in circumference. 
 
 1480. Mole : A small river in the county of Surrey, and entering the 
 Thames not far from London. 
 
 1431. Pelham: Sir Henry Pelham, who succeeded Sir Robert Wai- 
 pole as Prime Minister of Great Britain in 1742. 
 
 1433. Achaia or Hesperia : Greece or Italy, though in a limited sense 
 Achaia was a province of Peloponnesus. The vale referred to is that 
 of the Thames. 
 
 1437-41. Goodly prospect, <fcc, : Thomson is supposed to be speaking of 
 the prospect from Hagley, concerning which the following remarks of 
 Hugh Miller are worthy of introduction here : The entire prospect one 
 of the finest in England, and eminently characteristic of what is best in 
 English scenery enabled me to understand what I here used to deem a 
 peculiarity in some measure a defect in the landscapes of the poet 
 Thomson. It must have often struck the Scotch reader, that in dealing 
 with very extended prospects, he rather enumerates than describes. 
 His pictures are often mere catalogues, in which single words stand for 
 classes of objects, and in which the entire poetry seems to consist in an 
 overmastering sense of vast extent occupied by amazing multiplicity. I 
 cannot better illustrate my meaning than by his introductory description 
 to the " Panegyric on Great Britain," 1437-1441. 
 
 Now the prospect from the hill at Hagley furnished me with the true 
 explanation of this enumerative style. Measured along the horizon, it 
 must, on the lowest estimate, be at least fifty miles in longitudinal ex 
 
 Q 
 
170 SUMMER, 
 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
 
 The stretching landscape into smoke decays ! 1440 
 
 Happy Britannia ! where the queen of arts, 
 
 Inspiring vigor, Liberty, abroad 
 
 Walks, unconfined, e'en to thy farthest cots, 
 
 And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 
 
 Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime ; 1445 
 
 Thy streams unfailing in the Summer's drought ; 
 I Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks ; thy valleys float 
 x With golden waves ; and on thy mountains, flocks 
 Bleat numberless ! while, roving round the sides, 
 Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. 1450 
 
 Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd 
 Against the mower's scythe. On every hand, 
 Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth ; 
 And property assures it to the swain, 
 Pleased and unwearied, in his guarded toil. 1455 
 
 Full are thy cities with the sons of art ; 
 And trade and joy, in every busy street, 
 Mingling are heard. E'en Drudgery himself, 
 As at the car he sweats, or dusky hews 
 
 tent ; measured laterally, from the spectator forwards, at least twenty. 
 Some of the Welsh mountains which it includes are nearly thrice that 
 distance ; hut then they are mere remote peaks, and the area at their 
 bases not included in the prospect. The real area, however, must rather 
 exceed than full short of a thousand square miles : the fields into which 
 it is laid out are small, scarcely averaging a square furlong in superficies; 
 so that each square mile must contain about forty, and the entire land- 
 scape for all is fertility about forty thousand. With these there are 
 commixed innumerable cottages, manor-houses, villages, towns. Here 
 the surface is dimpled by unreckoned hollows ; there fretted by uncount- 
 ed mounds : all is amazing, overpowering multiplicity a multiplicity 
 which neither the pen nor the pencil can adequately express ; an 1 so de- 
 scription, in even the hands of a master, sinks into mere enumeration. 
 The picture becomes a catalogue ; and all that genius can accomplish in 
 the circumstances is just to do with its catalogue what Homer did with 
 his dip it in poetry. 
 
 1441. Queen of arts : Liberty, in the next line. 
 
SUMMER. 171 
 
 The palace stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, 1460 
 Where rising masts an endless prospect yield, 
 With labor burn, and echo to the shouts 
 Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves 
 His last adieu, and, loosening every sheet, 
 Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind. 1465 
 
 N Bold, firm, and graceful are thy generous youth, 
 ^ (^ By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fired, 
 
 Scattering the nations where they go ; and first, 
 Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas. 
 
 \ Mild are thy glories, too, as o'er the plans 1470 
 
 Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside ; 
 In genius and substantial learning high ; 
 For every virtue, every worth, renown'd ; 
 Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind ; 
 Yet, like the muttering thunder, when provoked, 1475 
 The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource 
 Of those that under grim oppression groan. 
 
 BRITAIN'S DISTINGUISHED SONS.^ 
 
 Thy SONS OF GLORY many ! Alfred thine, 
 In whom the splendor of heroic war, 
 
 1478. Tliy Sons of Glory : The long paragraph here commencing may 
 be regarded as a splendid Portrait Gallery, displaying to great advantage 
 the taste, and genius, and historical information of the poet. It is worthy 
 of close study and attention. The notes upon this paragraph are intend- 
 ed to throw a stronger light upon the canvas, so thai the subjects may 
 be better understood, and be contemplated with gi eater interest and 
 profit. 
 
 1478. Alfred, son of Ethelwolf, ascended the Anglo-Saxon throne ot 
 England at twenty years of age, was obliged to maintain it by prodigies 
 of valor against several hostile incursions of the Danes. Having conquer- 
 ed these, he persuaded the remainder of the Danish army to embrace 
 Cliristianity, and gave them liberty to occupy Northumberland anxl East 
 Anglia. He was a prince of great wisdom as well as valor. He estab- 
 lished civil and military institutions, formed the mukU-'o;.' his rude peo- 
 
172 SUMMER. 
 
 And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, 148C 
 
 Combine ; whose hallow'd name the virtues saint, 
 And his own Muses love ; the best of kings ! 
 
 pie to industry and justice. He is regarded as the creator of the English 
 navy, as well as the establisher of the monarchy, and in various ways 
 provided, in troublous times, for the security of his kingdom. He was, 
 moreover, the father of English law and English literature. He framed 
 a body of laws which, though now lost, served long as the basis of Eng- 
 lish jurisprudence, and was the origin of the English Common Law. 
 Though rigorous in the administration of justice, he entertained a pro- 
 found regard for the liberty and general welfare of his subjects. In his 
 will he introduced this remarkable declaration " It is just that the Eng- 
 lish should ever remain free as their own thoughts." 
 
 He gave great encouragement to learning. He invited to England 
 some of the most celebrated scholars from all parts of Europe : every- 
 where he established schools for the education of the ignorant ; he found- 
 ed, or greatly improved, the University of Oxford, and endowed it with 
 many privileges and immunities ; he enjoined by law all freeholders, 
 possessed of a specified amount of land, to send their children to 
 school ; and he gave preferment, either in Church or State, to such only 
 as had made some proficiency in science. 
 
 He was a writer himself. He prepared and circulated a number of 
 poems, fables, and tales, to lead the ignorant to the pursuit of knowl- 
 edge. He translated from the Greek the Fables of yEsop; and fur- 
 nished Saxon translations of the histories of Orosius and Bede, and of 
 the Constitution of Philosophy by Boethius. He turned his attention 
 also to the encouragement of the mechanical arts, granting liberal re- 
 wards to inventors and improvers of useful and ingenious arts. He im- 
 proved the architecture of the kingdom, and devoted himself to the 
 extension of commerce. 
 
 " This extraordinary man, who is justly considered, both by natives 
 and foreigners, as the greatest prince after Charlemagne that Europe 
 saw for several ages, and as one of the wisest and best that ever adorned 
 the annals of any nation, died in the year 901, in the vigor of his age 
 and full strength of his faculties, after a life of fifty-three years, and a 
 glorious reign of twenty-nine years and a half. His merit, both in public 
 and private life, may be set in opposition to that of any sovereign or 
 citizen in ancient or modern times. He seems, indeed, as an elegant 
 and profound historian (Hume) has observed, to be the complete model 
 of that perfect character which, under the denomination of a sage, or 
 truly wise man, philosophers have been so fond of delineating, without 
 the hopes of ever seeing it realized." Russell's Modern Europe, voL L, 
 77-82, 
 
SUMMER. 173 
 
 With him thy Edwards and thy Henries shine, 
 
 Names dear to fame ; the first, who deep impressed 
 
 On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, 1485 
 
 That awes her genius still. In statesmen thou, 
 
 And patriots, fertile. Thine a steady More, 
 
 Who, with a generous though mistaken zeal, 
 
 Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage, 
 
 Like Cato firm, like Aristides just, 1490 
 
 Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor ; 
 
 1483. There were three Edwards of the Saxon line, five of the Plan- 
 tagenet, and one of the Tudor. There were eight Henries, belonging to 
 three different lines of kings. 
 
 1485. Gaul : France. Edward III. was the first, and the principal of 
 the Edwards in the invasion of France. 
 
 1487. More : Sir Thomas More, Chancellor of England under Henry 
 VIII. Thomson refers to his opposition, as an adherent of the Pope, 
 to the claims of that imperious monarch to be acknowledged as the only 
 supreme Head of the Church of England upon earth. For refusing to 
 acknowledge the king's ecclesiastical supremacy, More was condemned to 
 die on the scaffold, and met his sentence with great fortitude, in 15o5. 
 He opposed Henry, also, in regard to the divorce of Queen Catharine. 
 He is represented as a man of great learning, integrity, and capacity. 
 
 1490. We noticed Cato in 954, one of whose most conspicuous charac 
 teristics was firmness ; as those of Aristides were justice and integrity. 
 Notwithstanding his brilliant public services, through the intrigues of the 
 jealous Themistocles, a decree of banishment from Greece was procured 
 from the inconstant people. While they were writing upon shells their 
 votes to this effect, an illiterate Athenian, riot acquainted with Aristides, 
 requested the latter to write upon his shell the name of Aristides. Be- 
 ing asked what harm Aristides had done him, he replied : He has done 
 me no harm ; but I am tired of hearing him called the Just. Aristides, 
 on being recalled, was intrusted with the management of the public rev- 
 enues, and though he had an opportunity of enriching himself, was nev- 
 ertheless so just and honest, that he died in absolute poverty, not leaving 
 enough to pay his funeral expenses, or to furnish marriage gifts to his 
 two daughters. An anecdote which reflects great lustre on his charactei 
 as an upright judge, may be added. The accuser, with a view to preju 
 dice him against the defendant, was proceeding to tell what injuries the 
 defendant had done to Aristides ; but was prevented by the impartial 
 judge, who exclaimed " Tell me of the wrongs which he has done to 
 you ; for I sit here to administer justice to you, not to myself." 
 
 1491. L. Quintius Cincinnatus, a Roman patrician farmer, who was 
 
174: SUMMER. 
 
 A dauntless soul erect, who smiled on death. 
 
 Frugal and Avise, a Walsingham is thine ; 
 
 A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, 
 
 And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 1495 
 
 Then flamed thy spirit high : but who can speak 
 
 The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign ? 
 
 In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd ; 
 
 Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all / 
 
 twice honored with the supreme office of Dictator at Rome, returning in 
 each case to the humble pursuit of agriculture, to his chosen work of 
 ploughing his own fields. 
 
 1493. Wfihingliain : Sir Francis Walsingham, Secretary of State un- 
 der Elizabeth an able statesman and firm Protestant. He displayed 
 great penetration and address in making discovery of foreign intrigues 
 against the queen's government. He acquired honor as an ambassador, 
 and yet died so poor, in his ninetieth year, that lie was privately buried 
 by night in St. Paul's Church, without any funeral ceremony. 
 
 1494. Drake: Sir Francis Drake, an eminent English navigator and 
 naval hero, who, as such, in the reign of Elizabeth, rendered to his coun- 
 try signal service. He died in 1596. 
 
 1498. Raleigh : Sir Walter Raleigh, another ornament of the " Maiden 
 Reign"' the reign of Elizabeth born in 1552. In 1578 he engaged in 
 an expedition the purpose of which was to discover and colonize some 
 part of North America. He did not succeed and yet in 1583 he sailed 
 for Newfoundland, and with no better results ; but subsequently he dis- 
 covered Wigandacoa, which, in honor of his virgin queen, was called 
 Virginia, and in two successive voyages established colonies there. He 
 has the honor, or fche dishonor, of first introducing tobacco into England, 
 and rendering it an article of commerce. He had an important agency 
 in destroying the famous Spanish Armada, in 1588. On the death of the 
 queen and the accession of James, he was condemned for high treason, 
 on altogether inadequate grounds. He was reprieved, however, and 
 confined for many years in the Tower at London, when he devoted him- 
 self to the preparation of his History of the World, the first volume of 
 which appeared in 1614. Two years after this he was released, and 
 served his country in an expedition to explore the gold mines of Guiana ; 
 but unjust complaints of his proceedings there being reported by the 
 Spanish ambassador to James, that weak and arbitrary monarch ordered 
 him to be seized, and to be beheaded on his former accusation, in October, 
 1618. He was worthy of a better fate than to satiate the vengeance of 
 the Spanish, who were indignant at the success of his arms. The reign 
 of James is justly denominated " a coward reign." Thomson has pre- 
 
SUMMEK. 175 
 
 The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. 1500 
 
 Nor sunk his vigor, when a coward reign 
 
 The warrior fetter'd, and at last resign'd, 
 
 To glut the vengeance of a vanquish 'd foe. - 
 
 Then, active still and unrestrain'd, his mind 
 
 Explored the vast extent of ages past, 1505 
 
 And with his prison-hours enrich'd the world ; 
 
 Yet found no times, in all the long research, 
 
 So glorious or so base, as those he proved, 
 
 In which he conquered, and in which he bled. 
 
 Nor can the Muse the gallant Sidney pass, 1510 
 
 eented an accurate and skilful portrait of this energetic and accomplished 
 man. 
 
 1510 Sidney : Sir Philip Sidney, an able statesman in the reign of Eliz- 
 abeth, by whom he was much honored. He was a brave warrior, and died 
 in 1587 of a wound which he received in the battle of Zutphen, on the 
 banks of the Issel, in Guelderland. He is the author of a celebrated ro- 
 mance entitled Arcadia, and of a Defence of Poetry, also of several poems. 
 " His bravery and chivalrous magnanimity ; his grace and polish of man- 
 ner ; the purity of his morals ; his learning and refinement of taste, had 
 procured for him love and esteem wherever he was known. By the di- 
 rection of Elizabeth his remains were conveyed to London, and honored 
 with a public funeral in the cathedral of St. Paul's." 
 
 An old writer thus eulogizes his varied merit : " Gentle Sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, thou knewest what belonged to a scholar : thou knewest what pains, 
 what toil, what travel, conduct to perfection ; well couldst thou give ev- 
 ery virtue his encouragement, every art his due, every writer his desert, 
 'cause none more virtuous, witty, or learned than thyself." 
 
 Another describes his whole life as " poetry put into action." The North 
 American Review (1832) contains an interesting article, in which it is 
 stated that, when Sidney was retiring from the field of battle fatally 
 wounded, an incident occurred, which well illustrates his chivalrous spirit 
 and that goodness of heart which gained him the appellation of the " Gen- 
 tle Sir Philip Sidney," the circumstance having been made the subject of 
 an historical painting by West. It is thus related by Lord Brooke : 
 
 The horse he rode upon was rather furiously choleric than bravely 
 proud, and so forced him to forsake the field but not his back, as the no- 
 blest and fittest bier to carry a martial commander to his grave. In 
 which sad progress, passing along by the rest of the army where his uncle 
 the General was, and being thirsty with excess of bleeding, he called for 
 drink, which was presently brought him ; but as he was putting the bot- 
 
J 
 
 176 SUMMER. 
 
 The plume of war ! with early laurels crown'd, 
 The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay. 
 A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land, 
 Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul, 
 Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age, 1515 
 
 i To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again, 
 In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. 
 Bright, at his call, thy age of men effulged, 
 Of men on whom late time a kindling eye 
 Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 1520 
 
 Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew 
 
 tie to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who had eaten his 
 last at the same feast, ghastly casting up his eyes at the bottle ; which 
 Sir Philip perceiving, took it from his head before he drank, and deliver- 
 ed it to the poor man with these words, "Thy necessity is yet greater 
 than mine." 
 
 1513. Hampden: John Hampden, the distinguished patriot, who op- 
 posed the arbitrary taxation of Charles L, and became the leader of the 
 popular party in the House of Commons against the king. When the 
 civil wars commenced, he took the field, and after a valorous career was 
 cut down when engaged in battle against Prince Rupert, June, 1643. 
 
 His history (says Macaulay), more particularly from the beginning of 
 the year 1640 to his death, is the history of England. A great and terri- 
 ble crisis had then come. A direct attack was made by an arbitrary gov- 
 ernment on a sacred right of Englishmen, on a right which was a chief 
 security for all their other rights. The nation looked round for a defender. 
 Calmly and unostentatiously the plain Buckinghamshire Esquire placed 
 himself at the head of his countrymen, and right before the face and 
 across the path of tyranny. The times grew darker and more troubled. 
 Public service, perilous, arduous, delicate, was required ; and to every 
 service the intellect and the courage of this wonderful man were found 
 fully equal. He became a debater of the first order, a most dexterous 
 manager of the House of Commons, a negotiator, a soldier. He governed 
 a fierce and turbulent assembly, abounding in able men, as easily as he 
 had governed his family. He showed himself as competent to direct a 
 campaign as to conduct the business of the petty sessions. We can 
 scarcelv express the admiration which we feel for a mind so great, and, 
 at the same time, so healthful and so well proportioned ; so willingly 
 contracting itself to the humblest duties; so easily expanding itself to the 
 highest ; so contented in repose ; so powerful in action. 
 
led; / 
 
 !, / 
 
 SUMMEB. 177 
 
 The grave where Russel lies ; whose temper'd blood, 
 
 With calmest cheerfulness for thee resign'd, 
 
 Stain'd the sad annals of a giddy reign, 
 
 Aiming at lawless power, though meanly sunk 1525 
 
 In loose, inglorious luxury. With him 
 
 His friend, the British Cassius, fearless bled ; 
 
 Of high determined spirit, roughly brave. 
 
 By ancient learning to th' enlighten'd love 
 
 Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown 1530 
 
 In awful sages and in noble bards ; 
 
 Soon as the light of dawning science spread 
 
 Her orient ray, and waked the Muses' song. 
 
 Thine is a Bacon ; hapless in his choice, 
 
 1522. Russell : Lord William Russell, who had a seat in the House of 
 Commons under Charles II., opposed the succession of the Duke of York 
 to the throne, and was charged with treasonable conduct as an associate 
 of the Duke of Monmouth, and beheaded in 1683. The "giddy reign" of 
 Charles II. is well described by Thomson. 
 
 1527. British Cassius: It is supposed that under this title is intended 
 Algernon Sidney. In the civil war he espoused the side of the Parliament 
 against Charles I., and was colonel in the army. Making the Roman Bru- 
 tus his model, and being in favor of a pure democracy, he opposed the 
 course of Cromwell. Being absent from England at the restoration of 
 Charles II., he was promised a pardon on his return. By the infamous 
 Judge Jeffreys he was tried on the charge of being implicated in the 
 Rye-house plot, and found guilty, and though he complained to the king 
 of an unfair trial, was beheaded Dec. 7, 1688. He was an able writer, a 
 man of high spirit, and of strong republican tendencies. His Discourses 
 on Government possess great merit. From his daring spirit, connected 
 with his opposition to tyranny and usurpation, our author styles him the 
 British Cassius Cassius having been the impetuous foe of Julius Caesar 
 in the latter part of his ambitious career. 
 
 1534. Bacon : Sir Francis Bacon, who under Elizabeth and James arose 
 from one post of distinction to another until he was appointed Lord Chan- 
 cellor. As a philosopher he has rendered himself immortal by marking 
 out in his Novum Organum the true method of scientific research, and 
 by exploding those that had been pursued in previous ages. As a man, 
 a courtier, and a politician, he rendered himself despicable by his slavish 
 obsequiousness to the sovereign, and by his confessed guilt in the matter 
 of gross bribery and corruption as a judge. The sentence to an enorinoua 
 
178 SUMMER. 
 
 Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 1535 
 
 And through the smooth barbarity of courts, 
 
 With firm but pliant virtue, forward still 
 
 To urge his course. Him for the studious shade 
 
 Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehensive, clear, 
 
 Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, V ^S 1540 
 
 Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd. / *Y*^~ 
 
 Jiae r and indefinite imprisonment, was, however, subsequently remitted, 
 uud ne onssed the remainder of his da} T s in scientific pursuits his life 
 closing in 1626. He is regarded as the father of experimental science. 
 AS lias been observed by Chambers, " he turned the attention of philos- 
 ophers from speculations and disputes upon questions remote from use, 
 ana fixed it upon inquiries ' productive of works for the benefit of the 
 life ot man.' The Aristotelian philosophy was barren : the object of Ba- 
 con was * the amplification of the power and kingdom of mankind over 
 the worid' ' the enlargement of the bounds of human empire to the ef- 
 fecting all things possible' the augmentation, by means of science, of 
 the sum ol human happiness, and the alleviation of human suffering. 
 Bacon, like Sidney, was a ' warbler of poetic prose.' Xo EnglL-h writer 
 has surpassed him in fervor and brilliancy of style, in force of expression, 
 or in richness ana significance of imagery. He has treated of philosophy 
 with all the splenaor, yet none of the vagueness of poetry." The best 
 account of his lire ana philosophy, perhaps, is to be found in Macaulay's 
 Miscellanies, to whicn i refer, instead of lengthening this note by quota- 
 tions. 
 
 1541 Plato, the Starjyritc, and Tulh/ joind : In Bacon were united the 
 distinguishing endowments ot those great men. Like Plato, he had a 
 soaring genius, a philosophical and poetic spirit : he united a lively fancy 
 to great acuteness of intellect. Cicero says of Plato's diction, that if 
 Jupiter were to speak in the Greek tongue he would use the language 
 of Plato ; and Aristotle regards it as a species of diction intermediate 
 between verse and prose. He excels also in discussing abstract subjects, 
 being generally clear, simple, and harmonious. 
 
 The Stagyiite t or Aristotle, who was born at Stagyra, was distinguished 
 for habits of research into all classes of subjects, physical, moral, and in- 
 tellectual, and for his prodigious acquisitions and learned treatises. More 
 than any previous writer lie enlarged the limits of philosophical inquiry. 
 He made Logic the Organon, or instrument for obtaining general knowl- 
 edge, or rather of conducting an argumentation. Intellect in him was the 
 leading faculty. While he entitled his works Organon, Bacon denomi- 
 nated his own the Xovuni Organum, or new instrument of Truth. 
 
 He resembled Tally, or Cicero, in his great powers as an orator and as 
 
yf 
 
 SUMMER. 179 
 
 The great deliverer he ! who from the gloom 
 
 Of cloister'd monks, and jargon-teaching schools, 
 
 Led forth the true Philosophy, there long 
 
 Held in the magic chain of words and forms, 1545 
 
 And definitions void : he led her forth, 
 
 Daughter of Heaven ! that, slow ascending still, 
 
 Investigating sure the cfoain of things, 
 
 With radiant finger points to heaven again. 
 
 The generous Ashley thine, the friend of man ; 1550 
 
 Who scann'd his nature with a brother's eye, 
 
 His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim, 
 
 To touch the finer movements of the mind, 
 
 And with the moral beauty charm the heart. 
 
 Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search, 1555 
 
 Amid the dark recesses of his works, 
 
 a pleader, to which, as in the case of Cicero, he was indebted for his rapid 
 advancement to the highest dignities of the state. Like him, also, ho 
 lacked firmness and decision ; he was cringing and servile in his adulation 
 of men in power. He chose the interests of the court rather than those 
 of the people " in the civil storm of state," and thus was " hapless in his 
 choice." He was greedy of wealth and of distinction, and mean in his 
 modes of seeking both. 
 
 1550 Ashley : Robert Ashley was a lawyer and a writer of some dis- 
 tinction, a collector of books on the continent, and a great benefactor of 
 the society to which he belonged. He died in 1641. 
 
 It is possible that not the above person, but Anthony Ashley Cooper, 
 Earl of Shaftesbury, and author of the '''Characteristics," was designated 
 by Thomson. He was a fine scholar, an accomplished gentleman, and an 
 eloquent writer, though tinctured with skeptical opinions. He died in 
 1713. 
 
 1555. Robert Boyle stands deservedly high in the annals of British sci- 
 ence, philanthropy, and religion. He was distinguished as an experimen- 
 tal philosopher and chemist, invented the air-pump, and was a prominent 
 member of the Royal Society of London for the Improvement of Natural 
 Knowledge, incorporated by Charles II. in 1662. Of this society he was 
 in vain urged to accept the presidency. He was an active, zealous Chris- 
 tian, and promoter of Christianity, both by his writings and with his 
 money. His annual charities amounted to about $5000. His works em- 
 brace 5 vols. folio. He died in 169L 
 
180 SUMMER. 
 
 The great Creator sought ? And why thy Locke, 
 Who made the whole internal world his own ? 
 Let Newton, pure intelligence, whom GOD 
 To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works 1560 
 
 From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 
 In all philosophy. For lofty sense, 
 Creative fancy, and inspection keen, 
 Through the deep windings of the human heart, 
 / Is not wild Shakspeare thine and Nature's boast? 1565 
 
 1557. John Locke has a world-wide renown from his great treatise on 
 the Human Understanding, still used as a text book in some of the first 
 institutions of learning. Its composition occupied nine years. He wrote 
 several other treatises, which are highly esteemed. In 1704 he died. 
 
 1559. Sir Isaac Newton^ one of the most illustrious names adorning any 
 country or age ; born in 1642. Mathematics and Astronomy was the field 
 he most cultivated, and with unexampled success. In 1669 he succeeded 
 Dr. Barrow in the mathematical chair at Cambridge, where he delivered 
 lectures on the discoveries he had made in Optics and on his Theory of 
 Light and Color. He was elected President of the Royal Society in 
 1703, and for twenty-five years held that honorable position even to his 
 death. The Bible was his daily study ; and upon the prophetical writ- 
 ings he published an excellent commentary. His great scientific treatise 
 he entitled " Philosophise Naturalis Principia Mathematical As a man 
 he possessed the most estimable traits, and received during his public 
 life the greatest consideration from Queen Anne, George L, and the men 
 of science and refinement in those reigns. 
 
 1565. William Shakspeare, the gre.it poet of human nature, and the 
 unrivalled dramatist, born in Stratford-on-Avon in 1564, and lived till 
 1616. The plots of his dramas were chiefly borrowed from novels and 
 romances, from legendary stories, 'or from older plays. In preparing those 
 plays in which Roman subjects are prominent, lie used North's translation 
 of Plutarch ; while Holinshed's Chronicle furnished him the incidents for 
 his English historical dramas. 
 
 Hazlitt draws his portrait with the hand of a master. There is room 
 but for a small part of it. He " had a mind reflecting ages past" and 
 present ; all the people that ever lived are there. There was no respect 
 of persons with him. His genius shone equally on the evil and on the 
 good, on the wise and on the foolish, the monarch and the beggar : " All 
 corners" of the earth, kings, queens, and states, maids, matrons, nay, the 
 secrets of the grave," are hardly hid from his searching glance. He 
 turned the globe round for his amusement, and surveyed the generations 
 of men, and the individuals as they passed, with their different concerns, 
 
SUMMER. 181 
 
 Is not each great, each amiable Muse 
 
 Of classic ao-es in thy Milton met ?\ 
 . . \ 
 
 A genius universal as his theme, \ 
 
 Astonishing as chaos, as the bloom I 
 
 passions, follies, vices, virtues, actions, and motives as well those that 
 they knew, as those which they did not know or acknowledge to them- 
 selves. Airy beings united at his call, and came at his bidding. The 
 world of spirits lay open to him, like the world of real men and women ; 
 and there is the same truth in his delineations of the one as of the other ; 
 for if the preternatural characters he describes could be supposed to ex- 
 ist, they would speak and feel and act as he makes them. He had only 
 to think of any thing in order to become that thing, with all the circum- 
 stances belonging to it. When he conceived of a character, whether real 
 or imaginary, he not only entered into all its thoughts, but seemed in- 
 stantly to be surrounded with all the same objects, the same local out- 
 ward and unforeseen accidents which would occur in reality. The post 
 may be said, for the time, to identify himself with the character he wishes 
 to represent, and to pass from one to another, like the same soul success- 
 ively animating different bodies. His plays are properly expressions of 
 the passions, not descriptions of them. Shakspeare's imagination is of 
 the same plastic kind as his conception of character or passion. He has 
 also a magic power over words : they come winged at his bidding ; and 
 seem to know their places. His epithets and single phrases are like 
 sparkles, thrown off from an imagination fired by the whirling rapidity' 
 of its own motion. His language in the impassioned parts translates 
 thoughts into visible images. His versification is no less powerful, sweet, 
 and varied. He had an equal genius for tragedy and comedy. 
 
 Upon the faults of Shakspeare as an author, it has been observed, that 
 some of his plays are hastily and ill-constructed as to plot ; that his 
 proneness to quibble and play with words is brought forward in scenes 
 where this peculiarity constitutes a positive defect ; that he is sometimes 
 indelicate where indelicacy is least pardonable, and where it jars most 
 painfully with the associations of the scene, and that his style is occa- 
 sionally stiff, tinged, and obscure, chiefly because it is at once highly fig- 
 urative and condensed in expression. 
 
 1567. John Milton, the great classical poet of England, whose immortal 
 poems deserve a place with those of Homer and Virgil, was born in 1608, 
 and died in 1674. He was an elegant Latin scholar, and wrote fiuentlv 
 that language, and was appointed Latin Secretary to the council of state 
 He was a stanch advocate of republican principles and of CroniAvell ; and 
 therefore at the Restoration of the Stuarts he was compelled to conceal 
 himself to escape from political penalties. However, through the inter- 
 cession of friends, and in view of his great learning and consummate abil- 
 
182 SUMMER. 
 
 Of blowing Eden fair, as heaven sublime! 1570 
 
 f Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget, 
 The gentle Spenser, Fancy *s pleasing son N 
 Who, like a copious river pour'd his song / 
 O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground : ' 
 Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 1575 
 
 ities, he was pardoned by Charles IT., who also offered to him the foreign 
 or Latin secretaryship, but he declined it for the purpose of devoting him- 
 self to the completion of his great Poem the Paradise Lost, and its se- 
 quel Paradise Regained. His prose writings, which are numerous, dis- 
 play great learning, and uncommon vigor of thought and of style. Of 
 his poetic qualifications it would be difficult to give a more condensed 
 and yet comprehensive account than Thomson has placed before us the 
 substance of which is, that the poetry of Milton combines the excellencies 
 of the be-4 of the Grecian and Roman bards. 
 
 I would add, from Hazlitt, that Milton adorns and dignifies his subject 
 to the utmost : he surrounds it with every possible association of beauty 
 or grandeur, whether moral, intellectual, or physical. He refines on his 
 descriptions of beauty, till the sense aches at them ; and raises his images 
 of terror to a gigantic elevation that " makes Ossa like a wart." Milton 
 has borrowed more than any other writer, and exhausted every source of 
 imitation, sacred or profane ; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other 
 writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. His learning 
 has all the effect of intuition. He describes object?, of which he could 
 onlv have read in books, with the vividness of actual observation. His 
 imagination has the force of nature. He makes words tell as pictures. 
 Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language (except 
 Shakspeare's) that deserves the name of verse. 
 
 1572. Edmund Spenser : A much admired poet of the reign of Eliza- 
 beth : the poet laureate. His deatli occurred in 1598. The language 
 of his poems is now in a great measure obsolete : they display a lively, 
 inventive, and powerful genius. According to Chambers : Spenser is the 
 most luxuriant and melodious of all the English descriptive poets. His 
 creation of scenes and objects is infinite, and in free and sonorous versifi- 
 cation he has not yet been surpassed. His " lofty rhyme" has a swell and 
 cadence, and a continuous sweetness, that we find nowhere else. In 
 richness of fancy and invention, lie can scarcely be ranked below Shak- 
 speare, and he is fully as original. The romantic character of his poetry 
 is its most essential and permanent feature. The Faery Queen is his chief 
 production, and being adapted to the court and times of the virgin Queen, 
 met with a most enthusiastic reception. The Queen in view of it gave 
 him a pension of 50 per annum. 
 
e 
 
 SUMMER. 183 
 
 Chaucer, whose native, manners-painting verse, 
 
 ell moralized, shines through the Gothic cloud uX"' 
 f time and language o'er thy genius, thrown. 
 
 1576. Geoffrey Chaucer is denominated by Dryden, the Father of Eng- 
 lish poetry. He was born in London in 1328, educated at Cambridge and 
 Oxford, and improved by continental travel. Having held under govern- \ 
 ment several lucrative offices, he suffered severe persecution for embra- 
 cing the tenets of Wickliffe, and then retired from public life not to be 
 idle, but to cultivate and exercise his poetic talents. 
 
 " Chaucer.was a man of the world as well as a student : a soldier and 
 courtier, employed in public affairs of delicacy and importance, and equal- 
 ly acquainted with the splendor of the warlike and magnificent reign of 
 Edward III., and with the bitter reverses of fortune which accompanied 
 the subsequent troubles and convulsions. When about sixty, in the calm 
 evening of a busv life, he composed his Canterbury Tales, simple and va- 
 ried as nature herself, imbued with the results of extensive experience and 
 close observation, and colored with the genial lights of a happy temper- 
 ament, that had looked on the world without austerity, and passed through 
 its changing scenes without losing the freshness and vivacity of youthful 
 feeling and imagination." For a full account of these Tales and of the 
 author, I must refer the reader to Chambers' Cyclopedia, whence this ex- 
 tract is taken. 
 
 Hazlitt gives us the following view of Chaucer and Spenser : As Spen- 
 ser was the most romantic and visionary, Chaucer was the most practical 
 of all the great poets. His poetry reads like history. Every thing has 
 a downright reality ; at least in the relator's mind. A simile, or a senti- 
 ment, is as if it were given in upon evidence. His poetry resembles the 
 root just springing from the ground rather than the full-blown flower. 
 Chaucer's descriptions of natural scenery have a local truth and fresh- 
 ness, which gives the very feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of 
 the ground. Spenser, as well as Chaucer, was engaged in active life ; but 
 the genius of his poetry was not active : it is inspired by the love of 
 ease and relaxation from all the cares and business of life. Though much 
 later than Chaucer, his obligations to preceding writers were less. If 
 Ariosto transports us into the regions of romance, Spenser's poetry is all 
 fairy-land. In Ariosto we walk upon the ground, in company gay, fan- 
 tastic, and adventurous enough. In Spenser, we wander in another world, 
 among ideal beings. The poet takes and lays us in the lap of a lovelier 
 nature, by the sound of softer streams, among greener hills and fairer 
 valleys. He is the painter of abstractions, and describes them with daz- 
 zling minuteness. His versification is at once the most smooth and the 
 most sounding in the language. 
 
 1 577. Gothic cloud of time and language, <fec. : Chaucer wrote at a time 
 
184: SUMMER. 
 
 May my song soften, as thy Daughters I, 
 Britannia, hail! for beauty is their own, 1580 
 
 The feeling heart, simplicity of life, 
 And elegance, and taste ; the faultless form, 
 Shaped by the hand of harmony ; the cheek, 
 Where the live crimson, through the native white 
 Soft- shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom, 1585 
 
 And every nameless grace ; the parted lip, 
 Like the red rosebud moist with morning dew, 
 Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet, 
 Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown, 
 The neck slight shaded, and the swelling breast : 1500 
 The look resistless, piercing to the soul, 
 And by the soul inform'd, when dress'd in love 
 She sits high smiling in the conscious eye. 
 
 Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas, 
 That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, 1595 
 
 At once the wonder, terror, and delight 
 Of distant nations ; whose remotest shores 
 Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ; 
 Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults \ 
 Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea- wave. ) 1600 
 
 THE SAVING VIRTUES OF A COUNTRY. 
 
 XA 
 
 Thou ! by whose Almighty nod the scale / 
 Of empire rises, or alternate falls, 
 Send forth the saving virtues round the land, 
 In bright patrol : white peace, and social love ; 
 The tender-looking charity, intent 1605 
 
 On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles ; 
 Undaunted truth, and dignity of mind ; 
 
 and in a language, comparatively barbarous. His diction, compared with 
 the superior cultivation of more recent times, is rude and obscure. 
 
SUMMER. 185 
 
 Courage composed and keen; sound temperance, 
 
 Healthful in heart and looks ; clear chastity, 
 
 With blushes reddening as she moves along, 1610 
 
 Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws ; 
 
 Rough industry ; activity untired, 
 
 With copious life inform 'd, and all awake : 
 
 While in the radiant front, superior shines 
 
 That first paternal virtue, public zeal, 1615 
 
 Which throws o'er all an equal wide survey, 
 
 And, ever musing on the commonweal, 
 
 Still labors glorious with some great design. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, 
 Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 1620 
 
 Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, 
 In all their pomp attend his setting throne. 
 Air, earth, and ocean smile immense. And now, 
 As if his weary chariot sought the bowers 
 Of Amphitrite and her tending nymphs, 1625 
 
 (So Grecian fable sung), he dips his orb ; 
 Now half immersed ; and now a golden curve ^^ 
 
 Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. 
 
 Forever running an enchanted round, 
 
 Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void;*^^^ 1630 
 
 As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain, 
 This moment hurrying wild th' impassion'd soul, 
 The next in nothing lost. 'Tis so to him, 
 The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank : 
 A sight of horror to the cruel wretch, / 1635 
 
 Who, all day long, in sordid pleasure roll'd, 
 
 1613. Informed: Inspired. 
 
 1625. Amphitrite : The fabled wife of Neptune, god of the oceaa 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 a useless load, has squandered vile, 
 Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheer'd 
 A drooping family of modest worth. 
 But .ta the generous, still improving mind,_ 1640 
 
 That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, / , 
 Diffusing kind beneficence around, 
 Boastless as now descends the silent dew ; 
 To him the long review of order'd life 
 Is inward rapture, only to be felt. 1645 
 
 SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 Confess'd from yonder, slow-extinguish'd clouds, 
 All ether softening, sober evening takes 
 Her wonted station in the middle air ; 
 A thousand shadows at her beck. First this 
 She sends on earth ; then that of deeper dye Nr 1650 
 Steals soft behind ; and then a deeper still, 
 In circle following circle, gathers round, 
 To close the face of things. A fresher gale 
 Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, 
 Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn ; 1655 
 
 While the quail clamors for his running mate. 
 Wide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze, 
 A whitening shower of vegetable down 
 Amusiye floats. The kind, impartial care 
 Of Nature naught disdains. Thoughtful to feed 1660 
 Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year, 
 From field to field the feather'd seed she wings. 
 
 His folded flock secure, the shepherd home 
 Hies merry-hearted ; and by turns relieves 
 The ruddy milkmaid of her brimming pail ; 1665 
 
 The beauty, whom perhaps his witless heart, 
 Unknowing what the joy -mix' d anguish means, | 
 Sincerely loves, by that best language shown 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 1ST 
 
 Of cordial glances and obliging deeds. 
 Onward they pass o'er many a panting height, 
 And valley sunk, and unfrequented ; where 
 At fall of eve the fairy people throng, 
 In various game, and revelry, to pass 
 The summer night, as village stories tell. 
 But far about they wander from the grave 
 Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urged 
 Against his own sad breast to lift the hand 
 Of impious violence. The lonely tower 
 Is also shunn'd, whose mournful chambers ho 
 So night-struck fancy dreams, the yelling ghost 
 
 1670 
 
 1675 
 1680 
 
 THE NIGHT-SCENE METEORS AND COMETS. 
 
 Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, 
 The glow-worm lights his gem ; and through the dark 
 

 188 SUMMER. 
 
 A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields 
 The world to night ; not in her winter robe 
 % Of massy Stygian woof, but loose array 'd 1685 
 
 In mantle dun. A faint, erroneous ray, 
 Glanced from th' imperfect surfaces of things, 
 ' Flings half an image on the straining eye ; 
 While wavering woods, and villages, and streams, 
 And rocks, and mountain- tops, that long retain'd 1690 
 Th' ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, 
 Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven 
 Thence weary vision turns ; where, leading soft 
 The silent hours of love, with purest ray 
 Sweet Venus shines ; and from her genial rise, \ 1695 
 
 When daylight sickens, till it springs afresh, 
 Unrivall'd reigns, the fairest lamp of night. 
 As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, 
 With cherish'd gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot 
 
 cially the abdomen ; and it is from the last two or three segments of 
 this part of the body that the phosphorescent light, for which they are so 
 remarkable, is emitted. Its intensity is evidently dependent, in a great 
 degree, upon the state of the animal : if the insect be irritated, it is in- 
 creased ; but if its powers are depressed or exhausted, it is lessened. In 
 the glow-worm (noctiluca), it is only the female that is luminous ; and 
 she is destitute of wings and elytra, which the male possesses. They 
 are only active by night ; and as the male is kno^vn to be attracted, like 
 moths, by lights in houses, it is probable that the phosphorescence of the 
 female is given for the purpose of signalizing her position to him. 
 CHAMBERS. 
 
 1685. Stygian woof : Dark, gloomy texture, resembling in color the fa- 
 bled river Styx in Arcadia, whose waters were made black by Ceres. 
 
 1699. Lambent lightnings: The Northern Lights Aurora Borealis. 
 The terror awakened by these in the breasts of the superstitious is 
 more fully described in Autumn, 1107-1130. Some (says Dick) pretend 
 to see, in these harmless lights, armies mixing in fierce encounter, and 
 fields streaming with blood; others behold states overthrown, earth- 
 quakes, inundations, pestilences, and the most dreadful calamities. Be- 
 cause some one or other of these calamities formerly happened soon after 
 the appearance of a comet, or the blaze of an aurora, therefore they -are 
 considered either as the causes or the prognostics of such events ! 
 
SUMMER. 189 
 
 Across the sky, or horizontal dart 17 00 
 
 In wondrous shapes ; by fearful murmuring crowds 
 
 Portentous deem'd. AmuTtlie radiant orbs, ^ 
 
 That more than deck, that animate the sky, 
 
 The life-infusing suns of other worlds ; 
 
 Lo ! from the dread immensity of space 1705 
 
 Returning, with accelerated course, 
 
 The rushing comet to the sun descends ; 
 
 And, as he sinks below the shading earth, 
 
 With awful train projected o'er the heavens, 
 
 The guilty nations tremble. But, above *". 1710 
 
 Those superstitious horrors that enslave 
 
 The fond sequacious herd, to mystic faith 
 
 And blind amazement prone, th' enlighten'd few, 
 
 Whose godlike minds Philosophy exalts, 
 
 The glorious stranger hail. They feel a joy 17 15 
 
 Divinely great ; they in their powers exult, 
 
 That wondrous force of thought, which mounting spurns 
 
 This dusky spot, and measures all the sky ; 
 
 While, from his far excursion through the wilds 
 
190 SUMMER. 
 
 Of barren ether, faithful to his time, 1720 
 
 They see the blazing wonder rise anew, 
 In seeming terror clad, but kindly bent 
 To work the will of all-sustaining Love : 
 
 " the fond sequacious herd" the ignorant multitude that eagerly follow 
 the dictation of their superiors, and are prone to a " mystic faith" and 
 " blind amazement." 
 
 This point is well illustrated by the following incident, related by Dr. 
 Thomas Dick : When the splendid comet of 1456 appeared (supposed 
 to be the same as Halley's comet), its tail extended at one time more 
 than sixty degrees. Three days before its perihelion, its nucleus was as 
 bright as a fixed star, its tail of the color of gold, and it appears to have 
 exhibited coruscations. Pope Calixtus, believing it to be at once the sign 
 and instrument of Divine wrath, was so frightened at its appearance that 
 he ordered public prayers to be offered up in every town, and the bells 
 to be tolled at the noon of each day, to warn the people to supplicate the 
 mercy of Heaven. He at the same time excommunicated both the comet 
 and the Turks, whose arms had lately proved victorious against the Chris- 
 tians, and established the custom, which still exists in Catholic countries, 
 of ringing the church bells at noon. In modern times certain natural ef- 
 fects have likewise been attributed to the influence of comets ; such as 
 tempests, hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, cold or hot seasons, overflowings 
 of rivers, dense clouds of flies or locusts, the plague, the cholera, and other 
 disorders. 
 
 The benevolent purposes supposed to be accomplished by this class of 
 the heavenly bodies, are merely matters of conjecture, and Thomson 
 presents them in that light. There can be no question (observes the au- 
 thor last quoted) that comets are as intimately connected with a system 
 of benevolence as are the solar radiations, and their benign influence on 
 our globe and on the other planets. It has been conjectured that comets 
 may supply moisture to the other planets, and invigorate the vital prin- 
 ciple of our atmosphere ; that they may recruit the sun with fresh fuel, 
 and repair the consumption of his light ; or that they may be the agents 
 for dispersing the electric fluid through the planetary regions ; and al- 
 though there is little probability that such conjectures are accordant with 
 .fact, yet it may be admitted that comets may produce a physical influ- 
 ence of a beneficial nature throughout the solar system. But what I 
 conceive to be one of the main designs of the Creator in the formation oi 
 such a vast number of splendid bodies, is. that they may serve as habita- 
 tions for myriads of intellectual beings, to whom the Almighty displays 
 his perfections in a peculiar manner, and on whom he bestows the riches 
 of his beneficence. If this position be admitted, then we ought to con- 
 template the approach of a comet, not as an object of terror or a harbin- 
 
SUMMER. 191 
 
 From his huge vapory train perhaps to shake 
 
 Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs, 1725 
 
 Through which his long ellipsis winds ; perhaps 
 
 To lend new fuel to declining suns, 
 
 To light up worlds, and feed th' eternal fire. 
 
 EULOGIUM ON PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, 
 And thy bright garland, let me crown my song ! 1730 
 * Effusive source of evidence and truth ! 
 A lustre shedding o'er th' ennobled mind, 
 Stronger than summer noon ; and pure as that, 
 Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, 
 New to the dawning of celestial day. 1735 
 
 Hence through her nourish'd powers, enlarged by thee, 
 She springs aloft with elevated pride, >. ,. 
 Above the tangling mass of low desires, 
 That bind the fluttering crowd ; and, angel-wing'd, 
 The heights of science and of virtue gains 1740 
 
 (Where all is calm and clear), with nature round, 
 Or in the starry regions, or th' abyss, 
 
 ger of evil, but as a splendid world, of a different construction from ours, 
 conveying millions of happy beings to survey a new region of the Divine 
 empire, and to contemplate new scenes of creating power. 
 
 The whole subject of comets their influence on the earth, their inhab- 
 itability, and their probable design is ingeniously and fully treated in 
 Dick's "Sidereal Heavens." 
 
 1735. New, &c. : Unaccustomed to the dawning, <fec. 
 
 1742. Abyss : It is not clear in what sense Thomson uses this term. It 
 is evidently placed in contrast with the starry regions, and therefore prob- 
 ably denotes the depths of the earth all beneath the surface of the 
 ocean or land that admits of investigation and of exploration. In Scrip- 
 ture the term abyss denotes the waters that originally surrounded the 
 earth, when it was " without form and void." 
 
 The vast immeasurable abyss, 
 Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild. MILTON. 
 
192 
 
 SL'MMEB. 
 
 To Reason's and to Fancy's eye display 'd : 
 
 The first up tracing, from the dreary void, 
 
 The chain of causes and effects to HIM, 1745 
 
 The world-producing Essence, Who alone 
 
 Possesses being ; while the last receives 
 
 The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
 
 And every beauty, delicate or bold, 
 
 Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 1750 
 
 Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 
 
 j Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
 
 /Her voice to ages ; and informs the page 
 -/With music, image, sentiment, and thought, 
 
 Never to die ! the treasure of mankind ! 1755 
 
 Their highest honor, and their truest joy ! 
 t Without thee, what were unenlighten'd man ? 
 ! A savage roaming through the woods and wilds, 
 
 In quest of prey ; and with the unfashion'd fur 
 
 Rough clad ; devoid of every finer art 1760 
 
 I And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
 
 Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, 
 
 Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss, 
 
 Nor guardian law were his ; nor various skill 
 
 To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 1765 
 
 Mechanic ; nor the heaven-conducted prow 
 
 Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
 
 The burning line or dares the wintry pole ; 
 
 Mother severe of infinite delights ! 
 
 Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 1770 
 
 And woes on woes, a still revolving train ! 
 
 o 
 
 Whose horrid circle had made human life 
 
 744. The first: (Reason's eye) tracing from the dreary void, from re- 
 gions of space where nothing exists, <fec. 
 
 1747. While the last (Fancy's eye), cfec. 
 
 1768. The burning line : The equinoctial, where the sun pours down 
 its vertical and hottest rays. 
 
SUMMER. 193 
 
 Than non-existence worse. But, taught by thee, 
 
 Ours are the plans of policy and peace ; 
 
 To live like brothers, and, conjunctive all, 1775 
 
 Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 
 
 Ply the tough oar, Philosophy directs 
 
 The ruling helm ; or like the liberal breath. 
 
 Of potent heaven, invisible, the sail 
 
 Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along. 1780 
 
 Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
 
 Poorly confined ; the radiant tracts on high 
 
 Are her exalted range, intent to gaze 
 
 Creation through, and, from that full complex 
 
 Of never-ending wonders, IQJBIMICW^ \ 1785 
 
 Of the SOLE BEING right, who spoke the word. 
 
 And Nature moved complete. With inward view, 
 
 Thence on th' ideal kingdom swift she turns 
 
 Her eye ; and instant, at her powerful glance, 
 
 Th' obedient phantoms vanish or appear ; j 1790 
 
 Compound, divide, and into order shift, 
 
 Each to his rank, from plain perception up 
 
 To the fair forms of fancy's fleeting train : 
 
 To reason then, deducing truth from truth, 
 
 And notion quite abstract ; where first begins^---/ 1795 
 
 The world of spirits, action all, and life ^^ 
 
 Unfetter'd and unmix'd. But here the cloud 
 
 (So wills Eternal Providence) sits deep : 
 
 Enough for us to know that this dark state, 
 
 In wayward passions lost and vain pursuits, j 1800 
 
 This infancy of being cannot prove 
 
 The final issue of the works of GOD, 
 
 By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom form'd, 
 
 And ever rising with the rising mind. 
 
 0. Inferior world: The connection shows that a ship is here intend- 
 ed. The expression is very appropriate and yet original. 
 
AUTUMN, 
 
 INTRODUCTORY EEMAEKS. 
 
 AUTUMN is too eventful a period in the history of the year 
 within the temperate parts of the globe, to require foreign aid 
 for rendering it more varied and interesting. The promise of 
 the Spring is now fulfilled. The silent and gradual process of 
 maturation is completed ; and Human Industry beholds with 
 triumph the rich products of its toil. The vegetable tribes 
 disclose their infinitely varied forms of fruit ; which term, while, 
 with respect to common use, it is confined to a few peculiar 
 modes of fructification, in the more comprehensive language of 
 the naturalist, includes every product of vegetation by which 
 the rudiments of a future progeny are developed and separated 
 from the parent plant. These are in part collected and stored 
 up by those animals for whose sustenance, during the ensuing- 
 sleep of winter, they are provided. The rest, furnished with 
 various contrivances for dissemination, are scattered, by the 
 friendly winds which now begin to blow, over the surface of 
 that earth which they are to clothe and decorate. The young 
 of the animal race, which Spring and Summer had brought 
 forth and cherished, having now acquired sufficient vigor, quit 
 their concealments and offer themselves to the pursuit of the 
 carnivorous among their fellow-animals, and of the great de- 
 stroyer man. 
 
 Thus the scenery is enlivened with the various sports of the 
 hunter ; which, however repugnant they may appear to that 
 system of general benevolence and sympathy which philosophy 
 
-98 AUTUMN INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 would inculcate, have ever afforded a most agreeable exertion 
 to the human powers, and have much to plead in their favor 
 as a necessary part of the great plan of Nature. Indeed, she 
 marks her intention with sufficient precision by refusing to 
 grant any longer those friendly shades which had grown for 
 the protection of the infant offspring. The grove loses its 
 honors; but before they are entirely tarnished an adventitious 
 beauty, arising from that gradual decay which loosens the wither- 
 ing leaf, gilds the Autumnal landscape with a temporary splendor 
 superior to the verdure of Spring or the luxuriance of Summer. 
 The infinitely various and ever-changing hues of the leaves at 
 this season, melting into every soft gradation of tint and shade, 
 have long engaged the imitation of the painter, and are equally 
 happy ornaments in the description of the poet. 
 
 These unvarying symptoms of approaching Winter now 
 warn several of the winged tribes to prepare for their aerial 
 voyage to those happy climates of perpetual summer, where no 
 deficiency of food or shelter can ever distress them ; and about 
 the same time other fowls of hardier constitution, which are 
 contented with escaping the iron winters of the arctic regions, 
 arrive to supply the vacancy. Thus the striking scenes afforded 
 by that wonderful part of the economy of Nature, the migra- 
 tion of birds, present themselves at this seasou to the poet. 
 The thickening fogs, the heavy rains, the swollen rivers, while 
 they deform the sinking period of the year, add new subjects 
 to the pleasing variety which reigns throughout its whole course, 
 and which justifies the poet's character of it, as the season when 
 the Muse " best exerts her voice." 
 
 AIKIX. 
 
Autumn. 
 
 THE AEGUMENT. 
 
 Ifhe isnbjwt propos* d. Addressed to Mr. Onslow. A prospect of the fields ready for 
 liLd^i. Beflections in praise of industry raised by that view. Reaping. A tale 
 rolativ-e to it. A harvest storm. Shooting and hunting, their barbarity. A ludicrous 
 account of fox-hunting. A view of an orchard. Wall-fruit A vineyard. A descrip- 
 tion of fogs, frequent in the latter part of Autumn : whence a digression, inquiring 
 into the rise of fountains and rivers. Birds of season considered, that now shift their 
 habitation. The prodigious number of them that cover the northern and western 
 isles of Scotland. Hence a view of the country. A prospect of the discolored, fading 
 woods. After a gentle dusky day, moonlight. Autumnal meteors. Morning; to 
 which succeeds a calm, pure, sunshiny day, such as usually shuts up the season. The 
 harvest being gathered in, the country is dissolved in joy. The whole concludes with 
 a panegyric on a philosophical country life. 
 
 CROWN'D with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf, ~ 
 While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, 
 Comes jovial on ; the Doric reed once more, 
 Well pleased, I tune. Whatever the Wintry frost 
 
 1-3. Crowned, &c. : The impersonation here is complete (I quote the 
 language of Prof. Wilson), and though the sex of Autumn is not men- 
 tioned, it is manifestly meant to be male. So far there is nothing amiss 
 either one way or another. But "nodding o'er the yellow plain" is a 
 mere statement of a fact in nature, and descriptive of the growing and 
 ripening or ripened harvest ; whereas it is applied here to Autumn as a 
 figure who "comes jovial on." This is not obscurity, or indistinctness 
 which is often a great beauty in impersonation but it is an inconsistency 
 and a contradiction, and therefore indefensible on any ground either of 
 conception or expression. 
 
 8, 4. lite Doric reed once more I tune: A poetic way of saying that he 
 
200 N AUTUMN. 
 
 Nitrons prepared ; the various blossom'd Spring 5 
 
 Put in white promise forth ; and Summer-suns 
 Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view, 
 Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme. 
 
 was now beginning another poem that he was about to describe in verse 
 the operations and phenomena of the Autumn. The reed or flute was an 
 instrument used by the Muses at Mount Parnassus in Greece, near which 
 mount the small district of Doris was situated. The once more will be 
 understood when it is stated that Autumn was the last of the " Seasons" 
 in the order of their composition and publication. 
 
 The subject of this note derives a happy illustration from the history of 
 music and its relation to poetry. In the language of Dr. Blair : " The 
 first poets sang their own verses ; and hence the beginning of what we call 
 versification, or words arranged in a more artful order than prose, so as to 
 be suited to some tune or melody. The music of that early period was, 
 beyond doubt, extremely simple ; and must have consisted chiefly of such 
 pathetic notes as the voice could adapt to the words of the song. Musical 
 instruments, such as flutes, and pipes, and a lyre, or harp, with a very few 
 strings, appear to have been early invented among some nations ; but no 
 more was intended by these instruments than simply to accompany the 
 voice and heighten the melody of song. The poet's strain was always 
 heard ; and from many circumstances it appears that among the ancient 
 Greeks, as well as among other nations, the bard sung his verses, and 
 played upon his harp at the same time. In this state the art of music 
 was when it produced all those great effects of which we read so much in 
 ancient history." 
 
 5. Citrous prepared : It is difficult to say what Thomson meant by this 
 expression, as it cannot be supposed that in his day the existence of nitro- 
 gen in snow (as an element of ammonia) was known, and which serves a 
 valuable purpose in the economy of vegetation. To this probably a re- 
 cent author refers when he remarks with reference to the effects of snow 
 on the soil, that "the nitrous particles which it contains are said to be of 
 a fertilizing quality, and as it gradually melts, these particles penetrate 
 the earth, being carried to the roots of the plants, mingled with the water 
 into which it is converted." In Thomson's day chemistry was, as a science, 
 yet in its infancy. The terms nitre and nitrous were often used in a 
 vague sense for saline substances and saline properties. The frost, or 
 snow the product of frost, was then supposed, from its fertilizing influence, 
 to incorporate some of these qualities. Thus Sturm speaks of the saline 
 particles which float in the air, and by uniting with the snow, occasion it to 
 crystallize into flakes of regular form. Perhaps Thomson only speaks of 
 frost as resembling nitre in its appearance : Whateer the wintry frost 
 nitrous (having the aspect of nitre) prepared. 
 
AUTUMN. 201 
 
 Ojosjow ! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, 
 To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, 10 
 
 Would from the public voice thy gentle ear 
 Awhile engage. Thy noble care she knows, 
 The patriot virtues that distend thy thought, 
 Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow ; 
 While listening senates hang upon thy tongue, '_ 15 
 
 Devolving through the maze of eloquence, 
 A roll of periods sweeter than her song. 
 But she too pants for public virtue ; she, 
 Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, 
 Whene'er her country rushes on her heart, 20 
 
 Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries 
 To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame. 
 
 9. Onslow: To this same then distinguished gentleman, Dr. Young 
 dedicated the first of the " Night Thoughts." If the following lines con- 
 tain no more than a just tribute, we can see a fitness in dedicating the 
 poem to him. 
 
 21. To mix, <fec. : Thomson gave utterance to his patriotic sentiments 
 most fully and distinctly in his poem, " Britannia," which was designed 
 and adapted to rouse the nation to revenge the interruptions of their 
 trade by the Spaniards in America ; and in another and more elaborate 
 poem, entitled " Liberty," which was published after an extensive tour on 
 the continent with the Honorable Charles Talbot, on whom he attended, 
 much to the advantage of the poet in the enlargement of his views of 
 men and things, and in the cultivation of his taste. Two years were, 
 after his return to England, bestowed upon the composition of this his 
 most favorite poem, and one from which he anticipated the largest re- 
 muneration of every kind : but he suffered in this expectation a most 
 unlooked-for and bitter disappointment. It has never been popular 
 '* No man," as one remarks, " was animated by a stronger or more disin- 
 terested love of public freedom than Thomson, and he everywhere incul- 
 cates patriotic sentiments ; but his ' Liberty' neither stimulates our 
 patriotism, nor increases our veneration for his idol." 
 
 The same writer accounts for this result as follows : " To the power of 
 painting scenery and delineating the softer and more pleasing traits of 
 character, Thomson's genius seems to have been confined ; but he was 
 incapable of describing the heart when assailed by boisterous passions, 
 and his representations of ambition, patriotism, or revenge, are compara- 
 tively feeble." 
 
202 AUTUMN. 
 
 FIELDS READY FOR HARVEST. 
 
 When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, 
 And Libra weighs in equal scales the year ; 
 From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook 25 
 Of parting Summer, a serener blue, 
 With golden light enliven'd, wide invests 
 The happy world. Attempered suns arise, 
 Sweet beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds 
 A pleasing calm ; while broad, and brown, below 30 
 
 Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. 
 Rich, silent, deep, they stand ; for not a gale 
 Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain ; 
 A calm of plenty ! till the ruffled air 
 
 Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. 35 
 
 Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky ; 
 The clouds fly different, and the sudden sun 
 By fits effulgent pilds th' illumined field, 
 
 J V^_J? o 
 
 And black by fits the shadows sweep along : 
 
 A gayly checker'd, heart-expanding view, 40 
 
 Far as the circling eye can shoot around, 
 
 Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn. 
 
 23, 24. The bright Virgin is the constellation Virgo, the sixth from 
 Aries; the sun enters it on the 22d of August. The epithet bright may 
 be applied to it either from the star Spica of the first magnitude which it 
 contains, or from the brightness of the sun's rays at that period. Libra, 
 the Balance, is the seventh from Aries, and is so called because the astro- 
 nomical year, commencing with Aries, is then half accomplished. This is 
 the poet's idea ; but a better reason for the name is the fact that when 
 the sun enters this sign the days and nights are equal over the globe. 
 
 25 Cope: Arch or concave of the sky. 
 
 26-42. While Summer is retiring, amid rain and fire, Autumn has 
 already appeared : with a matron-like grace she takes the vacant throne, 
 and, ' crowned with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf/' begins her reign. 
 The air is calm and the fields are ripe. C. 
 
 Corn is used by British writers in a larger sense than with us to indi- 
 cate all the various kinds of grain. 
 
AUTUMN. 203 
 
 I 
 
 tHE MANIFOLD BLESSINGS OF INDUSTRY, AND THE PROGRESS OF/1 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 These are thy blessings, Industry ! rough power ! 
 Whom labor still attends, and sweat, and pain ; 
 Yet the kind source of every-gentle art, 45 
 
 And all the soft civility of life : 
 Raiser of humankind ! by Nature cast, 
 Naked and helpless, out amid the woods 
 And wilds, to rude inclement elements ; 
 With various seeds of art deep in the mind 50 
 
 Implanted, and profusely poured around 
 Materials infinite ; but idle all. 
 Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast, 
 Slept the lethargic powers : corruption still, 
 Voracious, swallow'd what the liberal hand 55 
 
 Of bounty scatter'd o'er the savage year ; 
 And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix'd 
 With beasts of prey ; or, for his acorn-meal, 
 Fought the fierce tusky boar : a shivering wretch, 
 Aghast and comfortless, when the bleak north, 60 
 
 With Winter charged, let the mix'd tempest fly, 
 Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost. 
 Then to the shelter of the hut he fled, 
 And the wild season, sordid, pined away. 
 For home he had not : home is the resort 65 
 
 65, 66. Home is the resort, &c. : The description here given of home is 
 beautiful honorable alike to the genius, the taste, and social training of 
 the poet. He had been favored in early life with a pious, intelligent, and 
 happy home ; but the death of his excellent father, when the young poet 
 was yet at the University in Edinburgh, and the necessity, arising out of 
 the slender circumstances of the family, of undertaking to support himself 
 by the efforts of his genius, directed his steps, at the age of twenty-five, 
 to London, in the hope of there acquiring fame as well as subsistence. 
 His mother, it is said, was a person of uncommon natural endowments, 
 possessed of every social and domestic virtue, and gifted moreover with 
 
204 AUTUMN. 
 
 Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, 
 
 Supporting and supported, polish'd friends 
 
 And dear relations mingle into bliss. 
 
 But this the rugged savage never felt, ' 
 
 E'en desolate in crowds ; and thus his days 70 
 
 Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along ; 
 
 A waste of time ! till Industry approached, 
 
 And roused him from his miserable sloth ; 
 
 His faculties unfolded ; pointed out 
 
 Where lavish Xature the directing hand 75 
 
 Of art demanded ; show'd him how to raise i 
 
 His feeble force by the mechanic powers, 
 
 To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth ; 
 
 an imagination scarcely inferior, in vivacity and warmth, to her son's. To 
 his parents lie was largely indebted for a religious education, the advan- 
 tage of which shines forth with great beauty in his poems. With many 
 tears he left his affectionate mother in 1725, in setting out for London; 
 and upon the occasion of her death, which soon after occurred, he prepared 
 a touching elegy, in which he commemorates his pain at parting with her. 
 A part of this elegy, as an illustration of his strong filial and home attach 
 ment, I will introduce : 
 
 Still, still ! is she iny soul's divinest theme, 
 The waking vision, and the wailing dream : 
 Amid the ruddy sun's enlivening blaze 
 O'er my dark eyes her dewy image plays, 
 And in the dread dominion of the night 
 Shines out again the sadly pleasing sight. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 But ah ! that night that torturing night remains: 
 May darkness dye it with its deepest stains, 
 When on the margin of the briny flood 
 Chill'd with a sad presaging damp I stood, 
 Took the last look, ne'er to behold her more, 
 And mixed our murmurs with the wavy roar, 
 Heard the last words fall from her pious tongue, 
 Then, wild into the bulging vessel flung, 
 Which soon, too soon conveyed me from her sight, 
 Dearer than life, and liberty, and light ! 
 
 Though it does not appear from the biographical accounts of Thomson 
 that he ever returned to Scotland, even to make a visit, which may 
 awaken surprise, yet there is abundant evidence that he did not forget 
 his needy sisters, but occasionally wrote to them and made remittances 
 for their support and comfort. 
 
AUTUMN. 205 
 
 On what to turn the piercing rage of fire ; 
 
 On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast ; 80 
 
 Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe ; 
 
 Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone, 
 
 Till by degrees the finish'd fabric rose ; 
 
 Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur, 
 
 And wrapp'd them in the woolly vestment warm, 85 
 
 Or bright in glossy silk and flowing lawn ; 
 
 With wholesome viands fill'd his table ; pour'd 
 
 The generous glass around, inspired to wake 
 
 The life-refining soul of decent wit : 
 
 Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity; 90 
 
 (But still advancing bolder, led him on 
 To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace ; 
 And, breathing high ambition through his soul, 
 Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view, 
 And bade him be the lord of all below. 95 
 
 Then gathering men their natural powers combined, 
 And form'd a Public ; to the general good 
 Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. 
 For this the patriot council met, the full, 
 The free, and fairly represented whole ; IOC 
 
 For this they planned t-he holy guardian laws, 
 Distinguish'd orders, animated arts, 
 And with joint force, oppression chaining, set 
 Imperial Justice at the helm ; yet still 
 To them accountable: nor, slavish, dream'd 105 
 
 That toiling millions must resign their weal, 
 And all the honey of their search, to such 
 As for themselves alone themselves have raised. 
 
 Hence, every form of cultivated life, 
 
 In order set, protected, and inspired, 110 
 
 Into perfection wrought. Uniting all, 
 Society grew numerous, high, polite, 
 And happy. Nurse of art ! the city rear'd 
 
206 AUTUMN. 
 
 In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head ; . 
 
 And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew, 115 
 
 From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew 
 
 To bows strong-straining, her aspiring sons. 
 
 Then commerce brought into the public walk 
 The busy merchant ; the big warehouse built ; 
 Raised the strong crane ; choked up the loaded street 120 
 With foreign plenty ; and thy stream, Thames, 
 Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! 
 Chose for his grand resort, On either hand, 
 Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts 
 Shot up their spires : the bellying sheet between 125 
 
 Possess'd the breezy void ; the sooty hulk 
 Steer'd sluggish on ; the splendid barge along 
 Row'd, regular to harmony ; around, 
 The boat, light skimming, stretch'd its oary wings ; 
 While deep the various voice of fervent toil 130 
 
 From bank to bank increased : whence ribb'd with oak, 
 To bear the British thunder, black and bold, 
 The roaring vessel rush'd into the main. 
 
 Then too the pillar' d dome, magnific, heaved 
 Its ample roof ; and luxury within 135 
 
 Pour'd out her glittering storest The canvas smooth, 
 
 ^ With glowing life protuberant, to the view 
 Embodied rose ; the statue seem'd to breathe, 
 And soften into flesh, beneath the touch 
 Of forming art, imagination-flush'd. 140 
 
 f All is the gift of Industry ; whatever 
 
 j Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
 
 116. Yew: An evergreen of the pine genus, furnishing valuable timber 
 for ships, and used by the yeomanry of England in former times for 
 making bows of great power and effect. The strong-straining effort in 
 bending them for this purpose is indicated in the text. 
 
 141-3. While the sickle is moving, and the yellow grain falling, Com- 
 merce crowds the Thames with a grove of masts : Art, on its banks, 
 makes the " pillared domes" arise, the smooth canvas glow with life, and 
 
AUTUMN. 207 
 
 / Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer 'd by him, 
 Sits at the social fire, and happy hears 
 Th' excluded tempest idly rave along. 145 
 
 His hardened fingers deck the gaudy Spring. 
 Without him, Summer were an arid waste ; 
 Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit 
 Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 
 That waving round, recall my wandering song. 150 
 
 REAPING. ^ 
 
 Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky, *v/ 
 And, unperceived, unfolds the spreading day, 
 Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand, 
 In fair array ; each by the lass he loves^- 
 To bear the rougher part, and mitigate 155 
 
 By nameless gentle offices her toil. 
 At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves ; 
 While through their cheerful band the rural talk, 
 The rural scandal, and the rural jest, 
 
 Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time, 160 
 
 And steal unfelt the sultry hours away. 
 Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks ; 
 And, conscious, glancing oft on every side 
 His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. 
 The gleaners spread around, and here and there, 165 
 
 ^- Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. 
 
 3e not too narrow, husbandmen ! but fling 
 
 the a 'tue seem to breathe and soften into flesh. The poet imputes this 
 to UK riyfit cause. C. 
 
 16'i -176. Be not, &c. : The benevolence of the poet here construct? a 
 most eloquent appeal, which may be easily and usefully directed to other 
 classes of the poor. A similar appeal is made in 350-859. 
 
 Dr. Murdoch, in his biography of Thomson, says : As for his more dis- 
 tinguishing qualities of mind and heart, they are better represented in 
 his writings than they can be by the pen of any biographer. There, hja 
 
208 AUTUMX. 
 
 From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth, 
 The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful think ! 
 How good the God of Harvest is to you, 170 
 
 Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields ; 
 While these unhappy partners of your kind 
 Wide hover round you, like the fowls of heaven, 
 And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
 Of fortune ponder ; that your sons may want 175 
 
 \ What now, with hard reluctance, faint ye give. 
 
 LAVINIA AND PALEMOX. S/ 
 
 The lovely young Lavinia once had friends ; 
 And fortune smiled, deceitful, on her birth : 
 For, in her helpless years deprived of all, 
 Of every stay, save innocence and Heaven, 180 
 
 She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, 
 And poor, lived in a cottage, far retired 
 Among the windings of a woody vale ; 
 By solitude and deep surrounding shades, 
 But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd. 185 
 
 Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn, 
 Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
 From giddy passion and low-minded pride : 
 Almost on Nature's common bounty fed ; 
 Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, 190 
 
 Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. 
 
 bve of mankind, of his country and friends, his devotion to the Supreme 
 Being, founded on the most elevated and just conceptions of his opera- 
 tions and providence, shine out in every page. So unbounded was his 
 tenderness of heart, that it took in even the brute creation : judge what 
 it must have been towards his own species. He is not indeed known, 
 through his whole life, to have given any person one moment's pain, by 
 !;i? writings or otherwise. 
 
 177. This story is introduced by way of illustrating and enforcing the 
 beautiful appeal contained in the last paragraph. 
 
AUTUMN. 209 
 
 Her form was fresher than the morning rose, 
 
 When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd and pure, 
 
 As is the lily or the mountain snow. 
 
 The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, 195 
 
 Still on the ground dejected, darting all 
 
 Their humid beams into the blooming flowers : 
 
 Or, when the mournful tale her mother told, 
 
 Of what her faithless fortune promised once, 
 
 Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star 200 
 
 Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace 
 
 Sat fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, 
 
 Yeil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, 
 
 Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness 
 
 Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 205 
 
 But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most. 
 
 Thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self, 
 
 Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. / 
 
 As in the hollow breast of Apennine, 
 
 Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, 210 
 
 207-217. The history of the composition of this passage is thus related 
 by Chambers : One of the finest and most picturesque similes in the 
 work was supplied by Pope, to whom Thomson had given an interleaved 
 copy of the edition of 1736. The quotation will not be out of place here, 
 as it is honorable to the friendship of the brother poets, and tends to 
 show the importance of careful revision, without which no excellence can 
 be attained in literature or the arts. How deeply must it be regretted 
 that Pope did not oftener write in blank verse ! Describing Lavinia, the 
 lines were 
 
 Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self, 
 
 Eecluse among the woods ; if city dames 
 
 "Will deign their faith ; and thus she went, compell'd 
 
 By strong necessity, with as serene 
 
 And pleased a look as Patience e'er put on, 
 
 To glean Palemon's fields. 
 
 Pope drew his pen through this description, and supplied the following 
 lines (those of the present text), which Thomson must have been too 
 much gratified with not to adopt with pride and pleasure and so they 
 stand in all the subsequent editions. 
 

 210 AUTUMN. 
 
 A myrtle rises, far from human eye, 
 
 And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 
 
 So flourished, blooming and unseen by all, 
 
 The sweet Lavinia; till, at length, compell'd 
 
 By strong necessity's supreme command, 215 
 
 With smiling patience in her looks, she went 
 
 To glean Palernon's fields. The pride of swains 
 
 Palemon was, the generous and the rich ; 
 
 Who led the rural life in all its joy 
 
 And elegance, such as Arcadian song 220 
 
 Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; 
 
 When tyrant custom had not shackled man, 
 
 But free to follow Nature was the mode. 
 
 217. To glean, <fec. : In European countries (says Duncan) the humane 
 practice prevails of permitting the poor to glean the grain-fields, after 
 the reapers. It is a practice obviously founded on the Mosaic law, and is 
 at least as old as the entrance of the children of Israel. By that law, 
 the destitute inhabitants were permitted to glean three different sorts of 
 produce, that of the vine, that of the olive, and that of grain. With 
 the view of rendering this law effective for the relief of the poor, it was 
 required that after the olive-tree was beaten the owner should not " go 
 over the boughs again," and that when the grapes were gathered, he 
 should not " glean the vineyard afterwards ;" what was left, in both 
 cases, becoming the property of " the stranger, the fatherless, and the 
 widow." In like manner, and for the same object, when the farmer reap- 
 ed his grain, he was forbidden to make " a clean riddance" of the corners 
 of the field, or to gather any of the gleanings ; and he was even en- 
 joined to abstain from removing, for his own use, any sheaf which, when 
 carrying home his grain, he might inadvertently have left behind. Every 
 one is acquainted with the beautiful and affecting story of Ruth, the Mo- 
 abitess, in which this practice, as it prevailed among the descendants of 
 Abraham, is graphically introduced. The benevolent intention of this 
 law cannot be mistaken ; and the custom, though not enjoined by the 
 Gospel, is 1 too conformable to its spirit to have been overlooked or neg- 
 lected in almost any quarter where Christianity has extended its influence. 
 
 220. Arcadian song : Arcadia was located in the centre of the Pelc- 
 ponnesus a district of mountains and valleys and streams, for the most 
 part adapted and devoted to pastoral pursuits. It was the Alpine coun- 
 try of Greece, and the rural habits of its people are said to have been 
 similar to those of the people of the Alps. 
 
AUTUMN. 211 
 
 He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes 
 Amusing, chanced beside his reaper- train 225 
 
 To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ; 
 Unconscious of her power, and turning quick 
 With unaffected blushes from his gaze. 
 He saw her charming, but he saw not half 
 The charms her downcast modesty concealed. 230 
 
 That very moment love and chaste desire 
 Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown ; 
 For still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, 
 Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn, 
 Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 235 
 
 And thus in secret to his soul he sigh'd : 
 f< What pity ! that so delicate a form, 
 By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense 
 And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, 
 Should be devoted to the rude embrace 240 
 
 Of some indecent clown. She looks, methinks, 
 Of old Acasto's line ! and to my mind 
 Recalls that patron of my happy life, 
 From whom my liberal fortune took its rise ; 
 Now to the dust gone down ; his houses, lands, 245 
 
 And once fair-spreading family, dissolved. 
 'Tis said, that in some lone, obscure retreat, 
 Urged by remembrance sad, and decent pride, 
 Far from those scenes which knew their better days, 
 His aged widow and his daughter live, 250 
 
 Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. 
 Romantic wish ! would this the daughter were !" 
 
 229. Her charming : An elliptical and classical form of expression 
 meaning, he saw that she was a charming, or highly agreeable person. 
 
 242. Acasfo : A former friend and benefactor of Palemon who had 
 been a man of generous heart and ample means, but before he died be- 
 came reduced in circumstances, and left his widow and beautiful daughter 
 in a condition of penury. 
 
212 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 
 
 
 When, strict inquiring, from herself he found 
 She was the same, the daughter of his friend, 
 Of bountiful Acasto ; who can speak 255 
 
 The mingled passions that surprised his heart, 
 And through his nerves in shivering transport ran ? 
 Then blazed his smother'd flame, avow'd, and bold ; 
 And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, 
 Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once. 260 
 
 Confused, and frighten'd at his sudden tears, 
 Her rising beauties flush 'd a higher bloom, 
 As thus Palemon, passionate and just, 
 Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul : 
 
 " And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ? 265 
 
 She, whom my restless gratitude has sought, 
 So long in vain ? heavens ! the very same, 
 *^The soften'd image of my noble friend ; 
 Alive his every look, his every feature, 
 More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring ! 270 
 
 Thou sole surviving blossom from the root 
 That nourish'd up my fortune ! say, ah where, 
 In what sequester'd desert hast thou drawn 
 The kindest aspect of delighted heaven ? 
 Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair ; 275 
 
 Though poverty's cold wind and crushing rain 
 Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years ? 
 0, let me now into a richer soil 
 
 Transplant thee safe ! where vernal suns and showers 
 Diffuse their warmest, largest influence ; 280 
 
 And of my garden be the pride and joy ! 
 Ill it befits thee, oh, it ill befits 
 Acasto's daughter, his, whose open stores, 
 Though vast, were little to his ampler heart, 
 The father of a country, thus to pick 285 
 
 The very refuse of those harvest- fields, 
 Which from his bounteous f Headship I enjoy. 
 
AUTUMN. 213 
 
 Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, 
 
 But ill applied to such a rugged task. 
 
 The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine ; 290 
 
 If to the various blessings which thy house 
 
 Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss, 
 
 That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee !" 
 
 Here ceased the youth ; yet still his speaking eye 
 Expressed the. sacred triumph of his soul, 295 
 
 With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, 
 Above the vulgar joy divinely raised. 
 Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm 
 Of goodness irresistible, and all 
 
 In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent. 300 
 
 The news immediate to her mother brought, 
 While, pierced with anxious thought, she pined away 
 The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate ; 
 Amazed, and scarce believing w T hat she heard, 
 Joy seized her wither 'd veins, and one bright gleam 305 
 Of setting life shone on her evening hours ; 
 Not less enraptured than the happy pair, 
 Who flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd 
 A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves, 
 And good, the grace of all the country round. >^ 310 
 
 X 
 
 A HARVEST STORM. 
 
 Defeating oft the labors of the year, 
 T^e__sultry:^Quth collects a potent blast. 
 At first, the groves are scarcely seen to stir 
 Their trembling tops, and a still murmur runs 
 Along the soft-inclining fields of corn. 315 
 
 But as the aerial tempest fuller swells, 
 
 312. The sultry south, &c. : Amid this genial season, the south seems 
 to grudge the happiness and plenty which Autumn bestows on man, and 
 collects her storms, and lets them loose on the earth. C. 
 
214: AUTUMN. 
 
 And in one mighty stream, invisible, 
 Immense, the whole excited atmosphere 
 Impetuous rushes o'er the sounding world ; 
 Strain'd to the root, the stooping forest pours 320 
 
 A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves. 
 f High beat, the circling mountains eddy in, 
 From the bare wild, the dissipated storm, 
 And send it in a torrent down the vale. 
 Exposed, and naked to its utmost rage, 325 
 
 Through all the sea of harvest rolling round, 
 The billowy plain floats wide ; nor can evade, 
 Though pliant to the blast, its seizing force ; 
 Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaff 
 Shook waste. And sometimes too a burst of rain, 330 
 Swept from the black horizon, broad descends 
 In one continuous flood. Still overhead 
 The mingling tempest weaves its gloom, and still 
 The deluge deepens ; till the fields around 
 Lie sunk and flatted in the sordid wave. 335 
 
 .Sudden the ditches swell ; the meadows swim. 
 Red, from the hills, innumerable streams 
 Tumultuous roar ; and high above its banks 
 The river lift ; before whose rushing tide, 
 Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and swains, 340 
 
 Roll mingled down : all that the winds had spared 
 In one wild moment ruin'd ; the big hopes 
 And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year. 
 Fled to some eminence, the husbandman, 
 Helpless, beholds the miserable wreck 345 
 
 Driving along ; his drowning ox at once 
 Descending, with his labors scatter'd round, 
 He sees ; and instant o'er his shivering thought 
 Comes Winter unprovided, and a train 
 Of claimant children dear. Ye masters, then, 350 
 
 Be mindful of the rough laborious hand 
 
J 
 
 AUTUMN. 215 
 
 I That sinks you soft in elegance and ease ; 
 / Be mindful of those limbs in russet clad, 
 
 Whose toil to yours is warmth and graceful pride ; 
 
 And, oh ! be mindful of that sparing board, 355 
 
 \Which covers yours with luxury profuse, 
 Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice ! 
 Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains 
 And all involving winds have swept away. 
 
 SHOOTING AND HUNTING THEIR BARBARITY. 
 
 Here the rude clamor of the sportsman's joy, 360 
 
 The gun fast thundering, and the winded horn, 
 Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game ; 
 How in his mid career the spaniel struck, 
 Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose, 
 Outstretch'd, and finely sensible, draws full, 365 
 
 Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey ; 
 As in the sun the circling covey bask 
 Their varied plumes, and, watchful every way, 
 Through the rough stubble turn the' secret eye. 
 Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat 370 
 
 360. When the rain ceases, and the sky clears, the poet sends to the 
 fields the hunter and his noisy pack ; but while he surrenders to him the 
 healthy but cruel sports of the chase, he forbids the gentler sex (570- 
 608). C. 
 
 370. Meshy snare : Snare formed of net-work to catch birds. Covey is 
 a small flock of birds. Upon the mode of catching birds and upon its 
 moral aspects, Mrs. Ellis observes : There is a scene exhibited every day 
 throughout the summer months, in the outskirts of London, which it is 
 possible to contemplate until the mind is filled with misanthropy, and we 
 learn to loathe and shun our own species. In fields sufficiently remote from 
 the city to admit of their being the resort of birds, men are accustomed to 
 station themselves with a trap and snare, in order to obtain a supply of 
 singing birds for the London markets. The trap is a large net, so contrived 
 that it can be drawn up in a moment : the snare is a little chirping bird, 
 tied fast to the end of a pliant stick, which rebounds with the flutter of 
 its wings, and thus the bird alternately rising and sinking has something 
 
216 AUTUMN. 
 
 Their idle wings, entangled more and more : 
 Nor on the surges of the boundless air, 
 Though borne triumphant, are they safe : the gun, 
 Glanced just and sudden from the fowler's eye, 
 O'ertakes their sounding pinions ; and again, 375 
 
 Immediate, brings them, from the towering wing, 
 Dead to the ground ; or drives them wide dispersed, 
 Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. 
 These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, 
 ' Nor will she stain with such her spotless song ; 380 
 
 Then most delighted, when she social sees 
 The whole mix'd animal creation round, 
 Alive and happy. 'Tis not joy to her, 
 1 jThis falsely cheerful, barbarous game of death, 
 5 \This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 885 
 
 Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn ; 
 When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, 
 Urged by necessity, had ranged the dark, 
 As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, 
 Ashamed., Not so the steady tyrant man, 390 
 
 Who, with the thoughtless insolence of power 
 Inflamed, bsyond the most infuriate wrath 
 Of the worst monster that e'er roam'd the waste, 
 
 the appearance of dancing at will upon the light and buoyant spray. Tho 
 man. the monarch of creation, all the while crouches on the ground to 
 watch his prey, and when one little sufferer has by its fruitless struggles 
 so well mimicked the movements of a joyous flight as to allure its fellow- 
 victims into the snare, the fatal knot is drawn ; the man chooses out from 
 the number the sweetest songsters, and after depositing them separately 
 in an immense number of little cages, brought with him for the purpose, 
 they are conveyed to the market, purchased, and made miserable during 
 the rest of their lives, for the delectation of London ears, and the benefit 
 of society in general. 
 
 379, <fec. Some remarks are made (167-176) on the benevolence of 
 Thomson's disposition. We have here another exquisite exhibition of the 
 same amiable trait, which deserves to be imitated as well as admired. 
 His indignation at the cruelties of the chase is forcibly expressed. 
 
AUTUMN. 217 
 
 For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
 
 Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 395 
 
 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 
 
 For hunger kindles you, and lawless want ; 
 
 But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, 
 
 To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, 
 
 Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 400 
 
 Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare ! 
 Scared from the corn, and now to some lone seat 
 Retired ; the rushy fen ; the ragged furze, 
 Stretch'd o'er the stony heath ; the stubble chapt ; 
 The thistly lawn ; the thick-entangled broom ; 405 
 
 Of the same friendly hue, the wither'd fern ; 
 The fallow ground laid open to the sun, 
 >- Concoctjve ; and the nodding sandy bank, 
 Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook. 
 Vain is her best precaution ; though she sits 410 
 
 403. Ragged furze : The furze, or whin, is a thorny evergreen shrub, 
 quite common in the plains and on the hills of Great Britain. It bears 
 a beautiful yellow flower. 
 
 408. Concoctive : Denoting the influence which the sun exerts to ren- 
 der the fallow ground productive. 
 
 410-18. Professor Wilson of Edinburgh, the philosopher, the critic, the 
 poet, the sportsman of Scotland, gives this lively picture of the hare : 
 One often hears of a cunning old fox ; but the cunningest old fox is a 
 simpleton to the most guileless young hare. What deceit in every double ! 
 What calculation in every squat ! Of what far more complicated than 
 Cretan labyrinth is the creature, now hunted for the first time, sitting in 
 the centre ! a-listening the baffled roar ! Now into the pool she plunges 
 to free herself from the fatal scent that lures on death. Now down the 
 torrent course she runs and leaps, to cleanse it from her poor paws, fur- 
 protected from the sharp flints that lame the fiends that so sorely beset 
 her, till many limp along in their own blood. Now along the coping of 
 stone walls she crawls and scrambles ; and now ventures from the wood 
 along the frequented high road, heedless of danger from the front, so that 
 she may escape the horrid growling in the rear. Now into the pretty 
 little garden of the wayside, or even the village cot, she creeps, as if to 
 implore protection from the innocent children or the nursing mother. Yes,, 
 she will even seek refuge in the sanctuary of the cradle. 
 
 10 
 
218 AUTUMN. 
 
 Conceal'd, with folded ears, unsleeping eyes, 
 
 By Nature raised to take the horizon in, 
 
 And head couch'd close betwixt her hairy feet, 
 
 In act to spring away. The scented dew 
 
 Betrays her early labyrinth ; and deep, 415 
 
 In scatter'd, sullen openings, far behind, 
 
 With every breeze she hears the coming storm. 
 
 But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads 
 
 The sighing gale, she springs amazed, and all 
 
 The savage soul of game is up at once : 420 
 
 The pack full opening, various ; the shrill horn, 
 
 Resounded from the hills ; the neighing steed, 
 
 Wild for the chase ; and the loud hunters' shout ; 
 
 O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all 
 
 Mix'd in mad tumult and discordant joy. 425 
 
 The stag, too, singled from the herd, where long 
 He ranged the branching monarch of the shades, 
 Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed 
 He, sprightly, puts his faith ; and, roused by fear, 
 Gives all his swift aerial soul to flight. 430 
 
 Against the breeze he darts, that way the more 
 To leave the lessening, murderous cry behind. 
 Deception short ! though fleeter than the winds 
 Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountain by the north, 
 He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, 435 
 And plunges deep into the wildest wood ; 
 * If slow, yet sure, adhesivejp the track, 
 Hot steaming, up behind him come again 
 Th' inhuman rout, and from the shady depth 
 Expel him, circling through his every shift. 440 
 
 He sweeps the forest oft ; and sobbing sees / 
 
 j 
 412. Raised, <fcc. : The eye of the hare is remarkably prominent, so that 
 
 it is fitted to take in a large compass of view to discover objects behind 
 
 as well as before. 
 
 439. Rout : Pack of hounds. 
 
AUTUMN. 219 
 
 The glades, mild op'ning to the golden day ; 
 Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends 
 He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy. 
 Oft in the full-descending flood he tries 445 
 
 To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides : 
 Oft seeks the herd ; the watchful herd, alarm'd, 
 With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. 
 What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves, 
 So full of buoyant spirit, now no more 450 
 
 Inspire the course ; but fainting, breathless toil, 
 ^ Sick, seizes on his heart. He stands at bay, 
 And puts his last weak refuge in despair. 
 The big round tears run down his dappled face ; j 
 He groans in anguish; while the growling pack, 455 
 
 Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, 
 And mark his beauteous checker'd sides with gore. 
 
 Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, 
 Whose fervent blood boils into violence, 
 Must have the chase ; behold, despising flight, 460 
 
 The roused-up lion, resolute and slow, 
 Advancing full on the protended spear 
 And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. 
 Slunk from the cavern and the troubled wood, 
 See the grim wolf; on him his shaggy foe 465 
 
 Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die : 
 Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar 
 Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart 
 Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm. ^ 
 
 THE FOX-HUNT. 
 
 These Britain knows not ; give, ye Britons, then 470 
 Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour 
 
 442. Glades : Open or cleared spaces in a forest. 
 
220 AUTUMN. 
 
 Loose on the nightly robber of the fold. 
 
 Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd, 
 
 Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 
 
 Throw the broad ditch behind you ; o'er the hedge 475 
 
 470-496. Though we have here an exact picture of fox-hunting, the 
 favorite sport of Great Britain, it may gratify some readers to contem- 
 plate a larger picture, drawn by Prof. Wilson, the Christopher North of 
 Blackwood : 
 
 " Well, do you know, that after all you have said, Mr. North, I cannot 
 understand the passion and the pleasure of fox-hunting ? It seems to me 
 both cruel and dangerous." 
 
 " Cruelty ! Is there cruelty in laying the rein on the necks of their 
 horses and delivering them up to their high condition for every throb- 
 bing vein is visible at the first full burst of that maddening cry, and 
 letting loose to their delight the living thunderbolts ? Danger ? What 
 danger but of breaking their own legs, necks, or backs, and those of their 
 riders! What though it be but a smallish, reddish-brown, sharp-nosed 
 animal, with pricked-up ears, and passionately fond of poultry, that they 
 pursue ? After the first tally-ho, Reynard is rarely seen, till he is run in 
 upon once perhaps in the whole run, skirting a wood, or crossing a com- 
 mon. It is an idea that is pursued, on a whirlwind of horses to a storm 
 of canine music, worthy both of the largest lion that ever leaped among 
 a band of Moors, sleeping at midnight by an extinguished fire on the 
 African sands. There is, we verily believe it, nothing foxy in the fancy 
 of one man in all that glorious field of three hundred. Once off and 
 away while wood and welkin ring and nothing is felt nothing is 
 imaged in that hurricane flight, but scorn of all obstructions, dikes, ditches, 
 drains, brooks, palings, canals, rivers, and all the impediments reared in the 
 way of so many rejoicing madmen, by nature, art, and science, in an inclosed, 
 cultivated, civilized, and Christian country. There they go prince and 
 peer, baronet and squire the nobility and gentry of England, the flower 
 of the men of the earth, each on such steed as Pollux never reined, nor 
 Philip's warlike son. Hedges, trees, groves, gardens, orchards, woods, 
 farm-houses, huts, halls, mansions, palaces, spires, steeples, towns, and 
 temples, all go wavering by, each demi-god seeing, or seeing them not, as 
 his winged steed skims or labors along, to the swelling or sinking music. 
 Crash goes the timber of the five-barred gate ; away over the ears flies 
 the ex-rough rider in a surprising somerset ; after a succession of stumbles, 
 down is the gallant gray on knees and nose, making sad work among the 
 fallow. * * * * l Every man for himself, and God for us all,' is 
 the devout and ruling apothegm of the day. If death befall, what wonder ? 
 since horse and man are mortal ; but death loves better a wide soft bed, 
 with quiet curtains and darkened windows in a still room, the clergyman 
 
ATJTUMH. 
 
 High bound, resistless ; nor the deep 
 
 Refuse, but through the shaking 
 
 Pick your nice way. Into the perilous flood 
 
 Bear fearless, of the raging instinct full ; 
 
 And as you ride the torrent, to the banks 480 
 
 Your triumph sound sonorous, running round 
 
 From rock to rock, in circling echoes toss'd. 
 
 Then scale the mountains to their woody tops ; 
 
 Rush down the dangerous steep, and o'er the lawn, 
 
 In fancy swallowing up the space between, 485 
 
 Pour all your speed into the rapid game. 
 
 For happy he ! who tops the wheeling chase ; 
 
 Has every maze evolved, and every guile 
 
 Disclosed ; who knows the merits of the pack ; 
 
 Who saw the villain seized, and dying hard, 490 
 
 Without complaint, though by a hundred mouths 
 
 Relentless torn : glorious he, beyond 
 
 His daring peers ! when the retreating horn \ 
 
 Calls them to ghostly halls of gray renown, \ 
 
 With woodland honors graced ; the fox's fur, * 495 
 
 Depending decent from the roof; and spread 
 
 Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, 
 
 in the one corner with his prayers, and the physician in another with his 
 pills, making assurance doubly sure, and preventing all possibility of the 
 dying Christian's escape. Let oak branches smite the too slowly stooping 
 skull, or rider's back not timely levelled with his steed's ; let faithless 
 bank give way and bury in the brook ; let hidden drain yield to fore-feet 
 and work a sudden wreck ; * * * * yet, ' without stop or stay 
 the hunter-train flows on ; for the music grows fiercer and more savage, 
 lo ! all that remains of the pack, in far more dreadful madness than 
 hydrophobia, leaping out of their skins, under insanity from the scent, 
 now as strong as stink, for Vulpes can hardly now make a crawl of it ; 
 and ere he, they, whipper-in, or any one of the other three demoniacs, 
 have time to look in one another's splashed faces, he is torn into a thou- 
 sand pieces, gobbled up in the general growl ; and snug, and smooth, and 
 dry, and warm, and cozey, as he was an hour and twenty-five minutes 
 ago exactly, in his furze-bush in the cover, he is now piece-meal in about 
 thirty distinct stomachs ; and is he not, pray, well off for sepulture ?" 
 
222 AUTUMN. 
 
 The stag's large front. He then is loudest heard, 
 When the night staggers with severer toils, 
 With feats Thessalian Centaurs never knew, 500 
 
 And their repeated wonders shake the dome. 
 
 THE FROLI.CKSOME SUPPER. 
 
 But first the fuel'd chimney blazes wide ; \ 
 The tankards foam ; and the strong table groans \ 
 Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch'd immense 
 From side to side ; in which, with desperate knife, 505 
 They deep incision make, and talk the while 
 Of England's glory, ne'er to be defaced 
 While hence they borrow vigor : or amain 
 Into the pasty plunged, at intervals, 
 
 If stomach keen can intervals allow, 510 
 
 Relating all the glories of the chase. 
 Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst 
 Produce the mighty bowl ; the mighty bowl, X 
 S well'd high with fiery juice, steams liberal round 
 A potent gale, delicious as the breath 515 
 
 Of Maia to the love-sick shepherdess, 
 On violets diffused, while soft she hears 
 Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms. 
 Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn, 
 Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat 520 
 
 Of thirty years ; and now his honest front 
 Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid 
 E'en with the vineyard's best produce to vie. 
 
 500. Thessalian Centaurs: Fabulous beings, half man, half horse, re- 
 siding in Thessaly. There is a legend of a marriage-feast attended by 
 the Centaurs and Lapithae, at which, under the influence of wine, great 
 disorder and violence occurred, and several were slain. 
 
 516. Maia: A Latin name for May. 
 
 519. Brown October: The brown product of that month. Cider, proba- 
 bly, is meant. /".- 
 
AUTUMN. 223 
 
 - To cheat the thirsty moments, Whist awhile 
 
 Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of smoke, 525 
 
 Wreathed, fragrant, from the pipe : or the quick dice, 
 
 In thunder leaping from the box, awake 
 
 The sounding gammon ; while romp-loving miss 
 
 Is haul'd about in gallantry robust. 
 
 At last, these puling idlenesses laid 530 
 
 j Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan 
 Close in firm circle ; and set, ardent, in 
 For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly, 
 
 I Nor sober shift is to the puking wretch 
 Indulged apart ; but earnest, brimming bowls 535 
 
 Lave every soul, the table floating round, 
 And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot. 
 Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk,. 
 Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, f 
 Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds, 540 
 To church or mistress, politics or ghost, 
 In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd. 
 Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud, 
 Th' impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart : 
 That moment touched is every kindred soul ; 545 
 
 And, opening in a full-mouthed cry of joy, 
 The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse go round ; *" ' - 
 While, from their slumbers shook, the kennel'd hounds 
 Mix in the music of the day again. 
 
 As when the tempest, that has vex'd the deep, 550 
 
 The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls ; 
 So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues, 
 
 528. Gammon: The name of a game played with dice. It is usually 
 called backgammon. 
 
 531. Dry divan: Thirsty company. The term divan is most strictly 
 appropriate to the Turkish council of state ; hence humorously applied, 
 as here, to a council of boisterous and hard drinkers. 
 
 544. Catch : A piece sung by three or lour voices, one of which leads, 
 and the others follow in singing the same notes. 
 
224 AUTUMN. 
 
 Unable to take up the cumbrous word, 
 
 Lie quite dissolved. Before their maudlin eyes, 
 
 Seen dim and blue, the double tapers dance, 
 
 555 
 
 Like the sun wading through the misty sky. 
 
 Then, sliding soft, they drop. Confused above, 
 
 Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, 
 
 As if the table e'en itself was drunk, 
 
 Lie a wet broken scene ; and wide, below, 560 
 
 Is heap'd the social slaughter ; where astride, 
 
 The lubber Power in filthy triumph sits, 
 
 Slumb'rous, inclining still from side to side, 
 
 And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morn. 
 
 Perhaps some doctor of tremendous paunch, 565 
 
 Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink, 
 
 Outlives them all ; and from his buried flock 
 
 Retiring, full of rumination sad, 
 
 Laments the weakness of these latter times. 
 
 J EMPLOYMENTS SUITABLE TO THE WOMEN OF BRITAIN. 
 
 But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport 570 
 
 Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy 
 E'er stain the bosom of the British fair. 
 Far be the spirit of the chase from them ! 
 Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill ; 
 To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed ; 5*75 
 
 The cap, the whip, the masculine attire ; 
 In which they roughen to the sense, and all 
 The winning softness of their sex is lost. 
 In them 'tis graceful to dissolve at woe ; 
 With every motion, every word, to wave 580 
 
 654. Maudlin : Stupid, swollen. 
 
 562. Lubber Power : The besotting, stupefying power. Intemperance : 
 or, the power that makes lubbers that is, lazy, idle, good-for-nothing 
 fellows, such as Thomson here so graphically portrays. 
 
AUTUMN. 225 
 
 Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blush; 
 
 And from the smallest violence to shrink 
 
 Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears ; 
 
 And by this silent adulation soft, 
 
 To their protection more engaging man. 585 
 
 may their eyes no miserable sight, 
 
 Save weeping lovers, see ! a nobler game, 
 
 Through love's enchanting wiles pursued, yet fled, 
 
 In chase ambiguous. May their tender limbs 
 
 Float in the loose simplicity of dress ! 590 
 
 And, fashion'd all to harmony, alone 
 
 Know they to seize the captivated soul, 
 
 In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips ; 
 
 To teach the lute to languish ; with smooth step 
 
 Disclosing motion in its every charm, 595 
 
 To swim along, and swell the mazy dance ; 
 
 To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn ; 
 
 To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page ; 
 
 To lend new flavor to the fruitful year, 
 
 And heighten Nature's dainties : in their race 600 
 
 To rear their graces into second life ; 
 
 To give society its highest taste ; 
 
 Well- order'd home man's best delight to make ; 
 . And by submissive wisdom, modest skill, 
 
 With every gentle, care-eluding art, 605 
 
 jTo raise the virtues, animate the bliss, 
 ] And sweeten all the toils of human life : 
 
 This be the female dignity and praise. __ 
 Ye swains, now hasten to the hazel-bank; 
 
 Wnere, down yon dale, the wildly winding brook 610 
 
 Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array, 
 
 Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub, 
 
 Ye virgins, come. For you their latest song 
 
 The woodlands raise ; the clustering nuts for you 
 
 The lover finds amid the secret shade ; 615 
 
 10* 
 
226 AUTUMN. 
 
 And, where they burnish on the topmost bough, 
 
 With active vigor crushes down the tree ; 
 
 Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk, 
 
 A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown, 
 
 As are the ringlets of Melinda's hair : 620 
 
 Melinda ! form'd with every grace complete ; 
 
 Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise, 
 
 And far transcending such a vulgar praise. 
 
 THE FRUIT ORCHARD. 
 
 Hence from the busy, joy-resounding fields, 
 In cheerful error, let us tread the maze 625 
 
 Of Autumn, unconfined ; and taste, revived, 
 The breath of orchard big with bending fruit. 
 Obedient to the breeze and beating ray, 
 From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower 
 Incessant melts away. The juicy pear 630 
 
 Lies in a soft profusion scatter'd round. 
 A various sweetness swells the gentle race, 
 By Nature's all-refining hand prepared, 
 Of tempered sun, and water, earth, and air, 
 In ever-changing composition rnix'd. 635 
 
 Such, falling frequent through the chiller night, 
 Tlje fragrant stores, the wide-projected heaps 
 Of apples, which the lusty-handed year, 
 <?v - Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes. 
 
 A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen, 640 
 
 7 Dwells in their gelid pores ; and, active, points 
 The piercing cider for the thirsty tongue ; 
 Thy native theme, and boon inspirer too, 
 Philips, Pomona's bard, the second thou 
 
 625. Error : Wandering. 
 
 644. Philips : John Philips entered Oxford University in 1694, be- 
 came in 1703 author of " The Splendid Shilling," a burlesque poem, in 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 227 
 
 Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfetter 'd verse, 645 
 
 With British freedom sing the British song ; 
 
 How, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines 
 
 Foam in transparent floods ; some strong, to cheer 
 
 The wintry revels of the laboring hind ; 
 
 And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours. 650 
 
 DODDINGTON'S COUNTRY-SEAT. 
 
 In this glad season, while his sweetest beams 
 The sun sheds equal o'er the meeken'd day ; 
 Oh, lose me in the green delightful walks 
 Of, Doddington, thy seat, serene and plain ; 
 Where simple Nature reigns ; and every view, 655 
 
 f Diffusive^ spreads the pure Dorsetian downs, 
 
 In boundless prospect ; yonder shagg'd with wood, 
 Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks ! 
 Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome, 
 Far splendid, seizes on the ravish'd eye. 660 
 
 imitation of the style of Milton, " rhyme-unfettered verse.' 1 But his best 
 performance, in the same verse, is a poem on Cider, and which probably 
 led Thomson to designate him Pomona's bard, as she was the Pagan god- 
 dess of fruits and harvests. He also describes him as the first since Mil- 
 ton who ventured to write in blank verse. Philips thus commences his 
 Poem on Cider : 
 
 What soil the apple loves, what care is due 
 To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, 
 Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse 
 Adventurous I presume to sing ; of verse 
 Nor skilled, nor studious ; but my native soil 
 Invites me, and the theme as yet unsung. 
 
 647. By Silurian vats, are meant those in the ancient British kingdom 
 of the Silures, answering to southern Wales, and a part of England con- 
 tiguous to it. 
 
 654. Doddington : For an account of this gentleman turn back to note 
 on (29) " Summer." 
 
 656. Dorsetian downs : The extensive and naked hilly lands in the 
 southern part of Dorsetshire, well adapted for the pasturage of sheep. 
 
228 AUTUMN. 
 
 New beauties rise with each revolving day ; 
 
 New columns swell ; and still the fresh Spring finds 
 
 New plants to quicken, and new groves to green, 
 
 Full of thy genius all ? the Muses' seat ; 
 
 Where, in the secret bower and winding walk, 665 
 
 For virtuous Young and thee they twine the bay. 
 
 Here wandering oft, fired with the restless thirst -^^ 
 
 Of thy applause, I solitary court 
 
 Th' inspiring breeze, and meditate the book 
 
 Of Nature ever open ; aiming thence, 6'70 
 
 Warm from the heart, to learn the moral song. 
 
 Here, as I steal along the sunny wall, 
 
 Where Autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep, 
 
 My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought : 
 
 Presents the downy peach ; the shining plum ; 675 
 
 The ruddy, fragrant nectarine ; and dark, 
 
 Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. 
 
 The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots, 
 
 Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south, 
 
 And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky. 680 
 
 THE VINEYARD. 
 
 Turn we a moment Fancy's rapid flight 
 To vigorous soils and climes of fair extent ; 
 Where, by the potent sun elated high, 
 / The vineyard swells refulgent on the day, 
 Spreads o'er the vale, or up the mountain climbs, 685 
 
 Profuse ; and drinks amid the sunny rocks, 
 
 666. Virtuous Young : The distinguished Edward Young, author of the 
 immortal " Night Thoughts," a sublime and religious Poem, worthy of the 
 epithet by which he is here described. He died, at an advanced age, in 
 1765. For a full account of him I beg leave to refer to my recent edition 
 of that Poem. 
 
 To twine the bay, is to prepare the laurel crown, as an emblem of po^fc 
 excellence and superiority. 
 
AUTUMN. 229 
 
 From cliff to cliff increased, the heighten'd blaze. 
 
 Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters slear, 
 
 Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame, 
 
 Or shine transparent ; while perfection breathes 690 
 
 White o'er the j/urgent film the living dew. 
 
 As thus they brighten with exalted juice, 
 
 Touch'd into flavor by the mingling ray ; 
 
 The rural youth and virgins o'er the field, 
 
 Each fond for each to cull th* autumnal prime, 695 
 
 Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh. 
 
 Then comes the crushing swain ; the country floats, 
 
 And foSnis unbounded with the mashy flood ; 
 
 That, by degrees fermented and refined, 
 
 Round the raised nations pours the cup of joy : 700 
 
 The claret smooth, red as the lip we press 
 
 In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl ; 
 
 The mellow-tasted burgundy ; and quick 
 
 As is the wit it gives, the gay champagne. 
 
 AUTUMNAL FOGS, AND ORIGIN OF SPRINGS AND RIVERS. 
 
 Now, by the cool declining year condensed, 705 
 
 Descend the copious exhalations, check'd 
 As up the middle sky unseen they stole, 
 And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. 
 No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime, 
 Who pours a sweep of rivers from his sides, 710 
 
 And high between contending kingdoms rears 
 The rocky long division, fills the view 
 
 690-1. Perfection gives to the turgent film (the swelling skin) a whitish 
 and moist appearance, here denominated living dew, probably, as being 
 the result of organic action. 
 
 695. Autumnal prime : The first or choicest fruit of Autumn. 
 
 697. Crushing swain : The hardy man whose business it was to crush 
 the grapes and express the juice. 
 
230 AUTUMN. 
 
 With great variety ; but in a night 
 
 Of gathering vapor, from the baffled sense, 
 
 Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, 715 
 
 The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain ; 
 
 Vanish the woods ; the dim-seen river seems 
 
 Sullen and slow, to roll the misty wave. 
 
 E'en in the height of noon oppress'd, the sun 
 
 Sheds weak and blunt his wide-refracted ray ; 720 
 
 Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb, 
 
 He 'frights the nations. Indistinct on earth, 
 
 Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life 
 
 Objects appear ; and, wilder'd, o'er the waste* 
 
 The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last 725 
 
 Wreathed dun around, in deeper circles still 
 
 Successive closing, sits the general fog, 
 
 Unbounded o'er the world ; and, mingling thick, 
 
 A formless gray confusion covers all.* 
 
 As when of old (so sung the Hebrew Bard) 730 
 
 Light, uncoil ected, through the chaos urged 
 
 Its infant way ; nor order yet had drawn 
 
 His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. 
 
 These roving mists that constant now begin 
 To smoke along the hilly country, these, 735 
 
 With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows, 
 The mountain cisterns fill, those ample stores 
 Of water, scooped among the hollow rocks ; 
 Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play, 
 And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. 740 
 
 Some sages say, that, where the numerous wave 
 Forever lashes the resounding shore, 
 Drill'd through the sandy stratum, every way, 
 The waters with the sandy stratum rise ; 
 Amid whose angles infinitely strain' d, 745 
 
 780. Hebrew Bard: David. 
 
AUTUMN. 231 
 
 They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind, 
 
 And clear and sweeten as they soak along. 
 
 Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still, 
 
 Though oft amidst th' jrriguous vale it springs ; 
 
 But to the mountain courted by the sand, 750 
 
 That leads it darkling on in faithful maze, 
 
 Far from the parent main, it boils again 
 
 Fresh into day ; and all the glittering hill 
 
 Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain 
 
 Amusiye dream ! why should the waters love 755 
 
 To take so far a journey to the hills, 
 
 When the sweet valleys offer to their toil 
 
 Inviting quiet and a nearer bed ? 
 
 Or, if by blind ambition led astray, 
 
 They must aspire ; why should they sudden stop 760 
 
 Among the broken mountain's rushy dells, 
 
 And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert 
 
 Th' attractive sand that charm'd their course so long ? 
 
 Besides, the hard agglomerating salts, 
 
 The spoil of ages, would impervious choke 765 
 
 Their secret channels ; or, by slow degrees, 
 
 High as the hills protrude the swelling vales, 
 
 Old Ocean too, suck'd through the porous globe, 
 
 Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, 
 
 And brought Deucalion's watery times again. 770 
 
 Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs, 
 That, like creating Nature, lie conceal'd 
 From mortal e) e, yet with their lavish stores 
 Refresh the globe and all its joyous tribes ? 
 
 770. Deucalion was a Thessalian prince in the fabulous period of an- 
 cient Greece, in whose time a deluge is said to have occurred, against 
 which he and his wife were provided for by an ark, in which they re- 
 mained safely until the deluge ceased. It is supposed by some that the 
 tradition of the Noachian deluge, recorded in the Scriptures, became the 
 basis of some versions of this story of Deucalion. 
 
232 AUTL'.AIX. 
 
 thou pervading Genius, given to man, 775 
 
 To trace the secrets of the dark abyss, 
 
 O, lay the mountains bare ! and wide display 
 
 Their hidden structure to th' astonish'd view ! 
 
 Strip from the branching Alps their piny load ; 
 
 he huge incumbrance of horrific woods 780 
 
 From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd 
 Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds ! 
 Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, 
 And high Olympus pouring many a stream ! 
 0, from the sounding summits of the north, 785 
 
 The Dorfrine hills, through Scandinavia roll'd 
 To farthest Lapland and the frozen main ; 
 From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those 
 Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil ; 
 From cold Riphean rocks, which the wild Russ 790 
 
 Believes the stony girdle of the world ; 
 
 781. Asian Taurus : A chain of mountains extending from near the 
 western shore of the Archipelago to the river Euphrates. The Imaus is 
 a continuation of the former range, and answers to the modern Himalaya. 
 
 783. Hemus is a chain of high -mountains reaching 500 miles from the 
 Gulf of Venice to the Euxine, or Black Sea. Its modern name is Balcan. 
 
 784. Olymjnu : A range separating Thessaly from Macedonia. The 
 name is chiefly applied to one of its highest peaks, and that by the Grer 
 cian poets was assigned to the gods as their abode. It seems to rise from 
 the sea, and hide its lofty and snowy head among the clouds. 
 
 786. J)orfrine hills : The range of mountains separating- Norway from 
 Sweden, both of which countries and the adjacent countries were anciently 
 comprehended in the name of Scandinavia. The more modern name of 
 this range, or rather of a part of it, is Dofrafial. 
 
 788. Caucasus is a chain of mountains beginning at the mouth of the 
 Cuban, in the Black Sea, and reaching to the mouth of the Kur, in the 
 Caspian. Its tops are always covered with snow : the lower parts abound 
 in honey* corn, wine, gum. fruits, hogs, and horned cattle. This range of 
 mountains is occupied by seven distinct nations, each speaking a different 
 language. Those best known are the Circassians and the Georgians. 
 
 790. The Russians formerly called the Riphean Mountains Weliki Ca- 
 menypays ; that is, The Great Stony Girdle, supposing that they encom- 
 passed the entire globe. 
 
AUTUMN. 233 
 
 And all the dreadful mountaii^, wrapp'd in storm, 
 Whence wide Siberia draws Ker lonely floods ; 
 0, sweep th' eternal snows ! Hung o'er thp deep, V 
 That ever works beneath his sounding base, 795 
 
 Bid Atlas, propping Heaven, as poets feign, 
 His subterranean wonders spread ! Unveil 
 The miny caverns, blazing on the day, 
 Of Abyssinia's cloud-compelling cliffs, 
 And of the bending Mountains of the Moon ! 800 
 
 Overtopping all these giant sons of earth, 
 Let the dire Andes, from the radiant line 
 Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round 
 The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold ! 
 Amazing scene ! behold ! the glooms disclose ; 805 
 
 I see the rivers in their infant beds ! 
 Deep, deep I hear them laboring to get free. 
 I see the leaning strata, artful ranged, 
 The gaping fissures to receive the rains, 
 The melting snows, and ever- dripping fogs. 810 
 
 Strew'd bibulous above I see the sands, 
 The pebbly gravel next, the layers then 
 Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, 
 ^ The gutter'd rocks and mazy-running clefts ; 
 
 That, while the stealing moisture they transmit, 815 
 
 Retard its motion and forbid its waste. 
 Beneath th' incessant weeping of these drains, 
 I see the rocky siphons stretch'd immense, 
 The mighty reservoirs of harden'd chalk, 
 
 796. Atlas, in northern Africa. 
 
 798. Cloud- compelling : Cloud-collecting. ^ 
 
 800. The Mountains of the Moon are loftier than Atlas, and extend 
 from Western Africa through Abyssinia to the Indian Ocean. Thomson, 
 however, evidently considers them as not extending so far east as Abys- 
 sinia. 
 
 811. Bibulous : The sands and pebbly gravel are thus described from 
 the property which they have of absorbing, or drinking in, moisture. 
 
234 AUTUMX. 
 
 Or stiff compacted clay, capacious form'd. 820 
 
 Overflowing thence, the congregated stores, 
 The crystal treasures of the liquid world, 
 Through the stirr'd sands a bubbling passage burst, 
 And welling out, around the middle steep, 
 Or from the bottoms of the bosom'd hills, 825 
 
 In pure effusion flow. United, thus, 
 Th' exhaling sun, the vapor-burden'd air, 
 ~r The ^gelidjmountains, that to rain condensed 
 These vapors in continual current draw, 
 And send them, o'er the fair-divided earth, 830 
 
 In bounteous rivers to the deep again, 
 [ A social commerce hold, and firm support 
 The full adjusted harmony of things. 
 
 MIGRATION OF BIRDS TO WARMER CLIMATES. 
 
 When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, 
 Warn'd of approaching Winter, gather'd, play 835 
 
 The swallow-people ; and toss'd wide around, 
 
 833. Adjusted harmony of things : Dr. Buckland, in his Inaugural Lec- 
 ture, observes : In the whole machinery of springs and rivers, and in the 
 apparatus that is kept in action for their duration, through the instrumen- 
 tality of a system of curiously constructed hills and valleys, receiving their 
 supply occasionally from the rains of heaven, and treasuring it up in their 
 everlasting storehouses, to be dispensed perpetually, by thousands of never- 
 failing fountains, we see a provision not less striking than it is important. 
 So, also, in the adjustment of the relative quantities of sea and land, in 
 such due proportions as to supply the earth by constant evaporation, with- 
 out diminishing the waters of the ocean ; and in the appointment of the 
 atmosphere to be the vehicle of this wonderful and unceasing circulation ; 
 and thus separating these waters from their native salt (which, though 
 of the highest utility to preserve the purity of the sea, renders them 
 unfit for the support of terrestrial animals, or vegetables), and transmit- 
 ting them in genial showers to scatter fertility over the earth, and main- 
 tain the never-failing reservoirs of those springs and rivers by which 
 they are again returned to mix with their parent ocean ; in all these cir- 
 cumstances, we find such evidence of nicely balanced adaptation of means 
 

 AUTUMN. 235 
 
 O'er the calm sky, in conyaLatipn swift, 
 
 The feather'd eddy floats ; rejoicing once, 
 
 Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire ; 
 
 In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank, 840 
 
 And where, unpierced by frost, the cavern sweats. 
 
 Or rather into warmer climes convey'd, 
 
 With other kindred birds of season, there 
 
 They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months 
 
 Invite them welcome back : for, thronging, now 845 
 
 Innumerous wings are in commotion all. 
 
 Where the Rhine loses his majestic force 
 In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep 
 By diligence amazing, and the strong, 
 
 Unconquerable hand of liberty ; 850 
 
 The stork-assembly meets ; for many a day, 
 Consulting deep, and various, ere they take 
 Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky. 
 And now their route design' d, their leaders chose, 
 Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous wings, 855 
 And many a circle, many a short essay, 
 Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full 
 The figured flight ascends ; and, riding high 
 Th' aerial billows, mixes with the clouds. 
 
 to ends, of wise foresight, and benevolent intention, and infinite power, 
 that he must be blind indeed, who refuses to recognize in them proofs of 
 the most exalted attributes of the Creator. 
 
 848. Won from the raging deep : Not only the Belgian plains, but those 
 of Holland also, are considerably below the surface of the ocean, which 
 is kept back by immense dikes, or mounds of earth, from twenty to thirty 
 feet high and as many in breadth, erected by the energetic freemen of 
 those countries. Were it not for these dikes, a great part of the country 
 would be overflowed by the tides. The keeping up of these dikes em- 
 ploys annually more men than the corn of Holland can maintain. Good- 
 rich informs us that these dikes are built of clay, faced on the land side 
 with wood and stone, and towards the sea with mats of rushes and sea- 
 weed. In North Holland during violent storms, the outsides of the dikes 
 are covered with sail-cloth. The utmost effort is necessary to prevent 
 the sea from making encroachments upon that low tract of country. 
 

 236 AUTUMN. 
 
 Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, 860 
 
 Boils round the naked, melancholy isles 
 Of farthest Thule and th' Atlantic surge 
 Pours in among the stormy Hebrides ; 
 Who can recount what transmigrations there 
 Are annual made ? what nations come and go? 865 
 
 And how the living clouds on clouds arise ? 
 Infinite wings ! till all the plume-dark air 
 And rude resounding shore are one wild cry. 
 
 VIEW OF SCOTLAND FROM THE NORTH. 
 
 Here the plain, harmless native his small flock, 
 And herd diminutive of many hues, 8*70 
 
 Tends on the little island's verdant swell, 
 " The shepher(Ts_sea-girt reign ; or, to the rocks 
 Dire clinging, gathers his ovarious food ; 
 Or sweeps the fishy shore, or treasures up 
 The plumage, rising full, to form the bed 875 
 
 Of luxury. And here a while the Muse, 
 
 862. Thule : Turn back to "Summer," note 1168. 
 
 863. The Hebrides lie to the west of Scotland, and are about 200 in 
 number, most of them small and rocky, and barren. They are chiefly re- 
 markable for the number of small lakes which they contain. Heath and 
 moss are the principal vegetable products. The shores of these islands 
 are the resort of incredible multitudes of sea-birds, and the natives en- 
 gage in the most hazardous sport of catching these birds and securing 
 also their eggs. In the cavities of the beetling crags (says Goodrich) the 
 sea-fowl resort, and the natives, by means of a rope about their middle, 
 overhang precipices nearly a fourth of a mile in height, merely to look 
 over which would disorder any common nerves. Yet the adventurer, 
 with a line of many fathoms, held by several companions above, descends, 
 and disengaging himself from the rope, enters cavities in the rock higher 
 than the arch of any Gothic church. To this dangerous method of pro- 
 curing eggs as food, Thomson refers, 872-3. 
 
 876-91. In Hugh Miller's opinion, there are few things in English po- 
 etry finer than the following description, in which Thomson lays at once 
 all Scotland on the canvas. 
 
237 
 
 High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, 
 Bees Caledonia, in romantic viewjL_ 
 Her airy mountains, from the waving main, 
 Invested with a keen diffusive sky, , 880 
 
 i Breathing the soul acute ; her forests huge, 
 Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand 
 Planted of old ; her azure lakes between, 
 Pour'd out extensive, and of watery wealth 
 Full ; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales ; 885 
 
 __1Vith many a cool, translucent, brimming flood, 
 Wash'd lovely from the Tweed, (pure parent stream, 
 Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed, 
 
 878. Caledonia originally comprehended those parts of Scotland that 
 lie north of the Forth and Clyde, but the name has long been used to 
 designate the whole of Scotland. 
 
 888. Whose pastoral banks, &c. : Banks devoted to the pasturage oi 
 sheep. Here Thomson first exerted his powers as a writer of verse, and 
 at the early age of fourteen had so cultivated them as to be able to fur- 
 nish the following respectable specimen indeed remarkable, at so early 
 an age : 
 
 Now I surveyed my native faculties, 
 
 And traced my actions to their teeming source : 
 
 Now I explored the universal frame, 
 
 Gazed nature through, and with interior light 
 
 Conversed with angels and embodied saints 
 
 That tread the courts of the Eternal King 1 
 
 Gladly I would declare in lofty strains 
 
 The power of Godhead to the sons of men, 
 
 But thought is lost in its immensity : 
 
 Imagination wastes its strength in vain, 
 
 And Fancy tires and turns within itself, 
 
 Struck with the amazing depths of Deity ! 
 
 Ah, my Lord God ! in vain a tender youth, 
 
 UnskilM in arts of deep philosophy, 
 
 Attempts to search the bulky mass of matter, 
 
 To trace the rules of motion, and pursue 
 
 The phantom Time, too subtile for his grasp : 
 
 Yet may I from thy most apparent works 
 
 Form some idea of their wondrous Author. 
 
 It will help us to form an idea of the early influences that operated upon 
 the mind of the young poet, and also to understand the references to the 
 scenery referred to in the text, to quote a paragraph from Allan Cunning- 
 ham's Life of Thomson. 
 
 When Thomson was little more than a year old, his father (a pious and 
 
238 AUTUMN. 
 
 With, silvan Jed, thy tributary brook,) 
 
 To where the north-inflated tempest foams 890 
 
 O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak ; 
 
 Nurse of a people, in misfortune's school 
 
 Train'd up to hardy deeds ; soon visited 
 
 By Learning, when before the Gothic rage 
 
 She took her western flight: a manly race, 895 
 
 Of unsubmitting spirit, wise, and brave ; 
 
 IWho still through bleeding ages struggled hard, 
 (As well unhappy Wallace can attest, 
 
 diligent minister of the Church of Scotland) received a call from Ednam 
 (near Kelso), to Southdean on the waters of Jed, in the same county ot 
 Roxburgh. From a scene of cultivated beauty, where the ruins of Rox- 
 burgh Castle, the magnificent remains of Kelso Abbey, the clear and 
 slow-sliding stream of Tweed, and the hurrying current of the Teviot, 
 unite with the hills and dales around in forming a landscape of no ordi- 
 nary beauty, the all but unconscious poet was taken to one of a ruder, 
 yet not, perhaps, less lovely kind. Southdean is truly a pastoral land ; 
 lovely with its green hills, and its blooming heather, while the slender 
 stream of the " crystal Jed" winding through the whole, adds a look of 
 life by its moving waters to the upland solitude. In this lonesome though 
 romantic place the poet passed his early years : nor was he insensible, when 
 but a boy, to a scene which his biographer, Lord Buchan, calls a land " full 
 of the elements of natural beauty wood, water, eminence, and rock, with 
 intermixture of rich and beautiful meadow." Here, as he wandered by 
 himself, he first met the Muse not the Muse that visited Burns, with a 
 wildly witty grace on her brow, and a tartan kirtle reaching half-leg' 
 down ; but such a one as his enthusiastic mother would have loved a 
 Muse staid, devout, demure ; her looks, in the language of Milton, " com- 
 mercing with the skies." 
 
 891. Orca and Betubium are, probably, high peaks in the mountains of 
 the north of Scotland or possibly on some of the Orkney islands (Or- 
 cad*s\ where at certain seasons the most furious tempests are common. 
 
 898. Wallace : Sir William "Wallace, one of the most renowned heroes 
 an 1 patriots of modern times. Russell, the historian, thus speaks of him: 
 "He was of a gigantic stature and endowed with wonderful strength of 
 b l.y ; with invincible fortitude of mind ; with disinterested magnanimity; 
 with incredible patience, and ability to bear hunger, fatigue, and all the 
 severities of the seasons ; so that he soon acquired, among his desperate 
 associates, that authority to which his virtues so eminently entitled him. 
 Every day brought accounts of his gallant actions (in resistance to Eoglish 
 
AUTUMN. 239 
 
 Great patriot hero ! ill-requited chief !) 
 To hold a generous undirninish'd state ; 900 
 
 Too much in vain ! Hence of unequal bounds 
 Impatient, and by tempting glory borne 
 
 / O'er every land, for every land their life 
 Has flowed profuse, their piercing genius plann'd, 
 And swell'd the pomp of peace their faithful toil ; 905 
 As from their own clear north, in radiant streams, 
 
 x Bright over Europe bursts the boreal morn. 
 
 AN APPEAL TO SCOTTISH PATRIOTISM. 
 
 Oh ! is there not some patriot, in whose power 
 That best, that godlike luxury is placed, 
 Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, 910 
 
 usurpations and cruelties), which were received with no less favor by his 
 countrymen than terror by the enemy." He drove the English from 
 Scotland and recovered the fortresses which they had taken, and pursued 
 the English army into England as far as Durham ; was revered by his 
 countrymen and hailed as their deliverer and their Regent. This eleva- 
 tion, though well deserved and fairly won by a self-sacrificing and generous 
 patriotism, unfortunately excited the jealousy of some prominent nobles, 
 created dissensions, and rendered Scotland again a prey to the victorious 
 Edward of England. Wallace remained independent, and greatly annoyed 
 the English ; but having been basely betrayed by a professed friend, he 
 was carried, by Edward's order, in chains to London, tried and condemned 
 unjustly as a traitor, executed on Tower-hill, and his body barbarously 
 divided ; the parts were placed on different gates of the city. 
 
 907. Boreal morn : The splendid coruscations of this phenomenon, pro- 
 ceeding from the regions north of Scotland, are here used as a beautiful 
 illustration of the benign and illuminating influence of Scottish mind, and 
 brilliant achievements of Scottish valor, in its various emigrations from a 
 land " unequal" in size and resources to the wants, or rather to the enter- 
 prise, of its intelligent and industrious inhabitants. 
 
 The Aurora Borealis, or Northern Morn, in the islands north of Scotland, 
 is said, for a considerable period of the year, to be equal to the light of a 
 full moon. 
 
 908. Patriot : Thomson eloquently points out the various methods in 
 which a godlike luxury may be experienced by the intelligent patriot, in 
 promoting the welfare and progress of his countrymen. 
 
24:0 AUTUMN. 
 
 Through late posterity ? some, large of soul, 
 To cheer dejected industry ? to give 
 A double harvest to the pining swain ? 
 And teach the laboring hand the sweets of toil ? 
 How, by the finest art, the native robe 915 
 
 To weave ; how, white as hyperborean snow, 
 To form the lucid lawn ; with venturous oar 
 How to dash wide the billow ; nor look on, 
 Shamefully passive, while Batavian fleets 
 
 > I Defraud us of the glittering finny swarms, 920 
 
 That heave our friths and crowd upon our shores ? 
 How all-enlivening trade to rouse, and wing 
 The prosperous sail, from every growing port, 
 Uninjured, round the sea-encircled globe ; 
 And thus, in soul united as in name, 925 
 
 Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep ? 
 
 Yes, there are such. And full on thee, Argyle, 
 Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, 
 From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, 
 Thy fond imploring country turns her eye ; 930 
 
 In thee, with all a mother's triumph, sees 
 Her every virtue, every grace combined, 
 
 917. Lucid lawn: The lawn is a fine variety of cambric, which was 
 formerly manufactured (probably in the time of Thomson) by the Flemish 
 exclusively ; but in late years the lawn manufacture in Scotland has been 
 brought to as high perfection as in Flanders. 
 
 919. Batavian fleets : The shipping of Holland, which the ancient Batavi 
 inhabited. The herring fishery on the shores of Scotland is here referred 
 to, in which, at the time the poet wrote, about one hundred thousand 
 fishermen were employed by the Dutch. 
 
 927. Argyle : The Duke of Argyle, one of the most prominent nobles of 
 Scotland in the reign of George I. He was honored in 1714 with the 
 appointment of command er-in-chief of the royal forces in Scotland to resist 
 the designs of the Pretender, James, to the throne of Great Britain, which 
 his father, James II., had been compelled to abdicate. Argyle displayed 
 great wisdom, patriotism, and valor in the post assigned him, and gained 
 great honor from the success which crowned his measures. 
 
AUTUMN. 24:1 
 
 Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn, 
 
 Her pride of honor, and her courage tried, 
 
 Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat 935 
 
 Of sulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. 
 
 Nor less the palm of peace in wreathes thy brow : 
 
 For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
 
 Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; 
 
 While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, 940 
 
 The force of manhood, and the depth of age. 
 
 Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends, 
 
 As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind ; 
 
 Thee, truly generous, and in silence great, 
 
 Thy country feels through her reviving arts, 945 
 
 Planned by thy wisdom, by thy soul informed ; 
 
 And seldom has she known a friend like thee. 
 
 THE WOODS CHANGING COLOR AND LOSING THEIR FOLIAGE. 
 
 But see the fading, many color'd woods, 
 Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
 
 942. Forbes: Judge Duncan Forbes, of Edinburgh, President of the 
 Court of Sessions, and one of the earliest patrons of Thomson on his literary 
 debut at London. 
 
 948. Many colored woods : The graphic description which Prof. "Wilson 
 gives of Belle Isle in Autumn deserves a place here as illustrative of the 
 subject : " There is a slight frost in the air, in the sky, on the lake, and 
 mid-day is as still as midnight. But, though still, it is cheerful. * * * 
 Could you not think that a splendid sunset had fallen in fragments on the 
 isle that is called Beautiful, and set it all a-blaze ! The woods are on fire 
 yet they burn not ; beauty subdues while it fosters the flame ; and there, 
 as in a many-tented tabernacle, has color pitched his royal residence, and 
 reigns in glory beyond that of any oriental king. What are all the cano- 
 pies, and balconies, and galleries of human state, all hung with the richest 
 drapery that ever the skill of Art, that wizard, drew forth in gorgeous 
 folds from his enchanted loom, if ideally suspended in the air of imagina- 
 tion, beside the sun-and-storm-stainecl furniture of these palaces of Autumn 
 framed by the spirit of the season, of her own living umbrage, for his own 
 last delight, ere he move in annual migration, with all his court, to some 
 foreign clime far beyond the seas !" 
 
24:2 AUTUMN. 
 
 Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, 950 
 
 Of every hue, from wan declining green 
 
 To sooty dark. These now the lonesome Muse, 
 
 Low whispering, lead into their leaf-strown walks, 
 
 And give the Season in its latest view. 
 
 Meantime, light shadowing all, a sober calm 955 
 
 950-2. Umbrage, dusk, and dun, <fcc. : Dr. Greenwood, in his edition of 
 Duncan's Seasons, makes the following excellent remarks on this passage : 
 We must remember that the above is a description of the autumnal 
 woods of England, and not of the autumnal forests of New England Ours 
 are indeed the "many-colored woods;" but "a varied umbrage, dusk and 
 dun," are not the words to convey any idea of them. In localities where 
 certain trees predominate, the forest absolutely flames with lights and 
 hues, which have no counterpart in natural scenery, except in those which 
 sometimes tinge the clouds as they gather round the setting sun. It 
 seems as if all the brightest flowers of Spring and Summer had revived 
 again, to be hung upon the forest boughs, and grace the departure of the 
 year; for this glory is but the prelude of death, and the preparation for 
 a funeral. On entering our woods at this season, one might think that he 
 was walking down the aisles of some vast cathedral. The sun shines 
 through the foliage, as through old tinted windows, suffusing the air with 
 warmth, and color, and worship. 
 
 The change from the deep Summer green to the splendid variety of 
 Autumn, is sometimes produced in a single night by the silent but all- 
 powerful ministry of frost. But the superior gorgeousness of the foliage 
 is owing not so much to any peculiarity of climate, as to the peculiar 
 character of some of our native trees. Among those which contribute 
 most strikingly to the show, are the maples, and the tupelo, errone- 
 ously called hornbeam, the former bringing their vivid yellows and 
 scarlets, and the latter its deep crimson. The wild creeper too, the ivy 
 of our country, though not ivy, festoons the gray rocks and dark stumps 
 with purple and crimson wreaths ; and the ferns do their ample share. 
 Individual trees are often objects of great interest in their autumnal 
 dress. It is not uncommon to see the sugar-maple exhibit three distinct 
 colors, yellow, scarlet, and green, at one and the same time, either mingled 
 together, or in separate masses. 
 
 The brilliant hues now mentioned are over and above the endless 
 variety of browns which mark the falling season in temperate climates. 
 The display is too bright, perhaps, for the canvas to imitate, but to the 
 lover and observer of nature it is, while it lasts, a constant feast. Presently 
 the brightness grows dim with the shortening days ; a dull brown begins 
 to prevail prevails the leaves drop ; the pageant has passed away. 
 
AUTUMN. 243 
 
 Fleeces unbounded ether ; whose least wave 
 
 Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn 
 
 The gentle current ; while illumined wide, 
 
 The dw^j-skirted_clouds imbibe the sun, 
 
 And through their lucid veil his soften'd force 960 
 
 Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time, 
 
 For those whom wisdom and whom Nature charn 
 
 To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, 
 
 ^vnd soar above this little scene of things ; 
 
 To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet; | 965 
 
 To soothe the throbbing passions into peace, 
 
 And vgoJojne_u|eJM^ - b 
 
 ^ 
 
 Thus solitary, and in pensive guise, 
 Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead, 
 And through the sad den J d grove, where scarce is heard 
 One dying strain, to cheer the woodman's toil. 
 Haply some widow'd songster pours his plaint, 
 Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse ; 
 While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, 
 And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late 
 
 lo 
 
 975 
 
 Swelled all the music of the swarming shades, 
 
 Robb'd of their tuneful souls, now shiv'ring sit 
 
 On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock ; 
 
 With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, 
 
 And naught save chattering discord in their note. / 980 
 
 0, let not, aim'd from some inhuman eye, 
 
 The gun the music of the coming year 
 
 968-85. Having spoken of the tendency of the quiet scenes of Autumn 
 to withdraw from sordid and vicious pursuits all in whose breasts there 
 is any sympathy with Nature and admiration of her charms, the poet 
 presents us a fine picture of his own predilections and pursuits a valuable 
 though brief specimen of autobiography. It is continued in the descrip- 
 tion of Philosophic Melancholy, under which term he evidently portraya 
 the workings of his own mind and heart (1002-1029); he then proceeds 
 to exhibit more fully the pursuits that attract him most, and which 
 indicate a highly cultivated and philosophic taste (1028-1079). 
 
244 AUTUMN. 
 
 Destroy ; and harmless, unsuspecting harm, 
 
 Lay the weak tribes a miserable prey, 
 
 In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground ! 985 
 
 The pale-descending year, yet pleasing still, 
 I A. gentler mood inspires ; for now the leaf 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
 Oft startling such as, studious, walk below, 
 And slowly circles through the waving air. 990 
 
 But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 
 Sob, f 'er the sky the leafy deluge streams ; 
 Till, choked and matted with the dreary shower, 
 The forest- walks, at every rising gale, 
 Roll wide the wither'd waste, and whistle bleak. 995 
 
 /Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ; 
 /And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
 j {Their sunny robes resign. E'en what remain'd 
 Of stronger fruits falls from the naked tree ; 
 And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around 1000 
 
 The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 
 
 'HIC MELANCHOLY ITS OPERATIONS AND EFFECTS. 
 
 .e comes ! he comes ! in every breeze the Power 
 _ philosophic Melancholy comes ! 
 His near approach the sudden-starting tear, 
 The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, 1005 
 
 The soften'd feature, and the beating heart, 
 
 . ~ 
 
 1001. The above paragraph is a true and touching picture of the close 
 of Autumn, but not more so than- that which our own gifted Bryant has 
 furnished, in the poem beginning with this stanza : 
 
 "The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year, 
 Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. 
 Heap'd in the hollows of the grove the wither'd leaves lie dead, 
 They rustle to the eddying gust and to the rabbit's tread. 
 The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, 
 And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.'* 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 245 
 
 'ierced deep with many a vi^iSISJPfl^S' declare, 
 O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes I 
 Inflames imagination ; through the breasl 
 Infuses every tenderness ; and far 1010 
 
 Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought. 
 Ten thousand 
 
 As never mingled with the vulgar dream, 
 
 Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye. 
 
 As fast the correspondent passions rise, 1015 
 
 As varied, and as high : devotionjraised 
 
 To rapture and divine astonishment ; 
 
 The love of Nature, unconfined, and, chief, 
 
 Of human race ; the large ambitious wish, 
 
 To make them bless'd ; the sigh for suffering worth 1020 
 
 Lost in obscurity ; the noble scorn 
 
 Of tyrant pride ; the fearless, great resolve ; 
 
 The wonder which the dying patriot draws, 
 
 Inspiring glory through remotest time ; 
 
 The awaken'd throb for virtue and for fame ; 1025 
 
 The sympathies of love and friendship dear, 
 
 With all the social offspring of the heart. 
 
 Oh ! bear me then to vast embowering shades, 
 To twilight groves, and visionary vales ; 
 To weepmg grottoes, and prophetic glooms ; 1030 
 
 Where angel forms athwart the solemn dusk 
 Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along ; 
 And voices more than human, through the void 
 Deep sounding, seize th' enthusiastic ear ! 
 
 PIT? ^ND LORD COBHAM. 
 
 Or is this gloom too much ? then lead, ye powers, 1035 
 That o'er the garden and the rural seat 
 
 1019. At the commencement of this line, to apprehend the meaning 
 easily, you must supply the first three words of the previous line. 
 
24:6 AUTUMN. 
 
 Preside, which shining through the cheerful land 
 
 I In countless numbers bless'd Britannia sees ; 
 0, lead me to the wide-extended walks, 
 The fair, majestic paradise of Stowe ! 104C 
 
 Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore 
 E'er saw such silvan scenes ; such various art 
 -By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed 
 By cool judicious art ; that, in the strife, 
 All-beauteous Nature fears to be undone. 1045 
 
 And there, Pitt, thy country's early boast, 
 There let me sit beneath the shelter'd slopes, 
 Or in that Temple where, in future times, 
 Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name ; 
 And, with thy converse bless'd, catch the last smiles 1050 
 Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. 
 While there with thee th' enchanted round I walk, 
 The regulated wild, gay fancy then 
 Will tread in thought the groves of Attic land a \\\ 
 Will from thy standard taste refine her own, | Vl 1055 
 Correct her pencil to the pur^stjruth 
 
 
 1040. Stowe : The seat of Lord Cobham. 
 
 1046. Pitt: William Pitt, Earl of Chatham (born 1708; died 1778). 
 He entered the British Parliament at twenty-one years of age. where he 
 subsequently excelled all others in debate. In 1740 he delivered his cel- 
 ebrated speech in reply to Robert Walpole, who had spoken disparaging- 
 ly of him on account of his youth. His style of oratory (says Cham- 
 bers) was of the highest class : rapid, vehement, and overpowering ; and 
 it was adorned by all the graces of action and delivery. His public 
 conduct was singularly pure and disinterested, considering the venality of 
 the times in which he lived ; but as a statesman he was often inconsistent 
 and haughty. His acceptance of a peerage (in 1766) hurt his popularity 
 with the nation, who loved and reverenced him as " the great common- 
 er ;" but he still " shook the senate" with the resistless appeals of his 
 eloquence. 
 
 He was opposed to the war with America, to the stamp act, and esjj* 
 cially to the employment of Indian savages in carrying on the war Hia 
 speeches on these topics are familiar. 
 
 1048. Temple : The Temple of Virtue in Stowe Gardens. 
 
AUTUMN. 24:7 
 
 jOf Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades 
 
 JForsaking, raise it to the human mind. 
 Or if hereafter she, with juster hand, 
 
 Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her thou, 1060 
 
 To mark the varied movements of the heart, 
 
 iWhat every decent character requires, 
 
 And every passion speaks : 0, through her strain 
 
 Breathe thy pathetic eloquence ! that moulds 
 
 Th' attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts ; 1065 
 
 Of honest zeal th' indignant lightning throws, 
 
 And shakes corruption on her venal throne. 
 
 While thus we talk, and through Elysian vales 
 
 Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes ; 
 
 What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files 1070 
 
 Of order* d trees shouldst here inglorious range, 
 
 Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field, 
 
 And long embattled hosts ! when the proud foe, 
 
 The faithless, vain disturber of mankind, 
 
 Insulting Gaul, has roused the world to war ! 1075 
 
 When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
 
 Those polish' d robbers, those ambitious slaves, 
 
 The British youth would hail thy wise command, 
 
 Thy tempered ardor, and thy veteran skill ! . 
 
 a^c^ir-* 
 
 AUTUMNAL MOONLIGHT, AND METEORIC APPEARANCES. 
 
 The western sun withdraws the shorten'd day ; j 1080 
 I And humid evening, gliding o'er the sky, 
 i In her chill progress, to the ground condensed 
 
 i 
 
 1070. Cobham : Concerning Lord Cobham it appears from the follow- 
 ing lines that his reputation and skill related not to eloquence or states- 
 manship, as in the former case, but to military affairs. 
 
 1075. /nttclft'ngr Gaul : Louis XIV., king of France, who encouraged 
 and aided the Pretender to fight his way to the English throne, in the 
 time of George I. 
 
248 K> AUTUMN. 
 
 -Jr The vapors throws. Where creeping waters ooze, 
 Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, 
 Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 1085 
 
 The dusky mantled lawn. Meanwhile the moon \ 
 s |ull-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds\ 
 ShowsTier broad visage in the crimson east. \ $ 
 
 Turn'd to the sun direct her spotted disk, 
 > Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend, 1090 
 And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, 
 A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again, 
 Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. 
 Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, 
 Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. 1095 
 
 Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild 
 O'er the skied mountain to the shadowy vale, 
 While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam, 
 The whole air whitens with a boundless tide 
 Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. 1100 
 
 But when, half blotted from the sky, her light, 
 Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
 With keener lustre through the depth of heaven ; 
 Or near extinct her deaden'd orb appears, 
 And scarce appears, of sickly, beamless white ; 1105 
 
 Oft in this season, silent from the north 
 A blaze of meteors shoots. Ensweeping first / 
 The lower skies, they all at once converge 
 High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
 Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, 1110 
 
 And mix and thwart, extinguish and renew, 
 All ether coursing in a maze of light. 
 From look to look, contagious through the crowd,! 
 The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 
 Th' appearance throws : armies in meet array, 1115 
 
 Throng'd with aerial spears and steeds of fire, 
 Till the long lines of full extended war 
 
AUTUMN. 249 
 
 In bleeding fight commix'd, the sanguine flood 
 
 Rolls a broad slaughter o'er the plains of heaven. 
 
 As thus they scan the visionary scene, 1120 
 
 On all sides swells the superstitious din, 
 
 Incontinent ; and busy phrensy talks 
 
 Of blood and battle ; cities overturned, 
 
 And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 
 
 Or hideous wrapp'd in fierce ascending flame ; 1125 
 
 Of sallow famine, inundation, storm ; 
 
 Of pestilence, and every great distress ; 
 
 Empires subversed, when ruling fate has struck 
 
 The unalterable hour. E'en Nature's self 
 
 Is deem'd to totter on the brink of time. 1130 
 
 Not so the man of philosophic eye, 
 
 And inspect sage : the waving brightness he 
 
 Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 
 
 The causes and materials, yet unfix'd, 
 
 Of this appearance, beautiful and new. 1135 
 
 THE MOONLESS NIGHT '. THE BENIGHTED TRAVELLER. 
 
 Now black and deep the night begins to fall, 
 (A shade immense. Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
 Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
 Order confounded lies ; all beauty void ; 
 Distinction lost ; and gay variety 1140 
 
 One universal blot : such the fair power 
 Of light, to kindle and create the whole. 
 Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, 
 Who then, bewilder'd, wanders through the dark, 
 Full of pale fancies and chimeras huge ; 1145 
 
 Nor visited by one directive ray, 
 From cottage streaming or from airy hall. 
 Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on, 
 Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue, 
 11* 
 
250 AUTUMN. 
 
 The wildfire scatters round, or gathered trails 1150 
 
 A length of flame deceitful o'er the moss ; 
 
 Whither decoy 'd by the fantastic blaze, 
 
 Now lost and now renew'd, he sinks absorb'd, 
 
 Rider and horse, amid the miry gulf : 
 
 While still, from day to day, his pining wife, 1155 
 
 And plaintive children his return await, 
 
 In wild conjecture lost. At other times, 
 
 Sent by the better genius of the night, 
 
 Innoxious, gleaming on the horse's mane, 
 
 The meteor sits; and shows the narrow path, 1160 
 
 That winding leads through pits of death, or else, 
 
 Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. 
 
 The lengthen'd night elapsed, the morning shines 
 Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright, 
 Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. 1*165 
 
 And now the mounting sun dispels the fog ; 
 The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam ; 
 And hung on every spray, on every blade 
 Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. 
 
 1152. Fantastic blaze : Reference is made to what is sometimes called 
 Ignis Fatuus (vain or illusive fire) a kind of luminous meteor (I use the 
 language of Brande) which flies about in the air a little above the surface 
 of the earth, and appears chiefly in' marshy places, or near stagnant wa- 
 ters, or in churchyards, during the nights of summer. There are many 
 instances of travellers having been decoyed by these lights into marshy 
 places, where they perished , and hence the names Jack-with-a-lantern t 
 Will-with-a-wixp ; the people ascribing the appearance to the agency of 
 evil spirits, who take this mode of alluring men to their destruction. 
 The cause of the phenomenon does not seem to be perfectly understood ; 
 it is generally supposed to be produced by the decomposition of animal 
 or of vegetable matters, or by the evolution of gases which spontaneously 
 inflame in the atmosphere. 
 
 Milton thus describes the phenomenon : 
 
 " A wandering fire, 
 
 Hovering and blazing with delusive light, 
 Misleads the amazed night-wanderer from-his way 
 To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, 
 There swallow'd up and lost, from succor far." 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 THE INVADED BEE-HIVE. 
 
 Ah, see where, robb'd and murder'd, in that pit ' 11*70 
 Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch'd 
 Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 
 And fix'd o'er sulphur ; while, not dreaming ill, 
 The happy people in their waxen cells, 
 Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 1175 
 
 Of temperance, for Winter poor ; rejoiced 
 To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
 Sudden the dark, oppressive steam ascends ; 
 And, used to milder scents, -the tender race, 
 By. thousands, tumble from their honied domes, 1180 
 
 Convolved, and agonizing in the dust. 
 And was it then for this you roam'd the Spring, 
 Intent from flower to flower ? for this you toil'd 
 Ceaseless the burning Summer heats away ? 
 For this in Autumn search'd the blooming waste, 1185 
 'or lost one sunny gleam ? for this sad fate ? 
 
 man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long 
 ihall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage, 
 Awaiting renovation ? When obliged, 
 Must you destroy ? Of their ambrosial food 1190 
 
 Can you not borrow ; and in just return 
 Afford them shelter from the wintry winds ; 
 Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 
 Again regale them on some smiling day ? 
 See where the stony bottom of their town 1195 
 
 Looks desolate and wild ; with here and there ^ 
 A helpless number, who the ruin'd state 
 Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 
 Thus a proud city, populous and rich, 
 Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, 1200 
 
 At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, 
 (As late, Palermo, was thy fate,) is seized 
 
252 AUTUMN. 
 
 By some dread earthquake, and convulsive hurl'd, 
 Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involved, 
 Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame. 1205 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF AUTUMN. 
 
 Hence every harsher sight ! for now the day, 
 O'er heaven and earth diffused, grows warm and high, 
 Infinite splendor wide investing all. ^ 
 
 How still the breeze ! save what the filmy threads^ 
 Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 1210 
 
 How clear the cloudless sky ! how deeply tinged 
 With a peculiar blue ! th' etherial arch 
 How swell'd immense ! amid whose azure throned, 
 The radiant sun how gay ! How calm below 
 The gilded earth ! the harvest treasures all 1215 
 
 Now gather'd 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, 1220 
 
 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, 1225 
 
 Darts not unmeaning looks ; and where her eye 
 
 1202. Palermo: The capital of the island of Sicily, a city of great 
 beauty. Between it and the mountains the country, it is said, is one of 
 the richest plains in the world, the whole appearing a magnificent garden, 
 filled with fruitful trees and watered by fountains and rivulets. It 
 abounds in rich and magnificent church edifices. At various periods it has 
 been injured by earthquakes and inundations. 
 
 1224. The village toast : That is, the subject of the village toast a per- 
 son in honor of whom wine is drank expressive of a desire for her health 
 And happiness. 
 
AUTUMN. 253 
 
 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 1230 
 
 That, with to-morrow's sun, their annual toil 
 
 Begins again the never ceasing round. 
 
 THE PURE PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 A Jr 
 
 y Oh, knew he but his happiness, of men 
 
 The happiest he ! who far from public rage,$>' *' 
 
 Deep in the vale, with a choice few retired, 1235 
 
 Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life. 
 
 What though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, 
 
 Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd 
 
 Of flatterers false, and in their turn abused ? 
 
 Vile intercourse ! What though the glittering robe 1240 
 
 Of every hue reflected light can give, * 
 
 Or floating loose, or stiff with mazy gold, 
 
 The pride and gaze of fools ! oppress him not ? 
 
 What though, from utmost land and sea purveyed, 
 
 For him each rarer tributary life 1245 
 
 Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 
 
 With luxury, and death ? What though his bowl / 
 
 Flames not with costly juice ; nor sunk in beds, 
 
 Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, 
 
 Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state? 1250 
 
 What though he knows not those fantastic joys, 
 
 That still amuse the wanton, still deceive ; 
 
 A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; 
 
 Their hollow moments undelisrhted all ? 
 
 o 
 
 Sure peace is his ; a solid life, estranged 1255 
 
 To disappointment, and fallacious hope ; 
 
 Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, 
 
 In herbs and fruits. Whatever greens the Spring, 
 
254 AUTUMN. 
 
 When heaven descends in showers ; or bends the bough 
 When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; 1260 
 Or in the Wintry glebe whatever lies 
 Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap : 
 These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove, 
 ^<Luxunant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; 
 
 Nor bleating mountains ; nor the chide of streams, 1265 
 
 And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 
 
 Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade, 
 
 Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay. 
 
 Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 
 
 Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountains clear. 1270 
 
 Here too dwells simple Truth ; plain Innocence ; 
 
 Unsullied Beauty ; sound unbroken Youth, 
 
 Patient of labor, with a little pleased ; 
 
 Health ever blooming ; unambitious Toil, 
 
 /7 Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease. 1275 
 
 Let others brave the flood in quest of gain, 
 And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave: 
 Let such as deem it glory to destroy, 
 Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek ; 
 Unpierced, exulting in the widow's wail, 1280 
 
 The virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry : 
 Let some, far distant from their native soil, 
 Urged or by want or harden'd avarice, 
 Find other lands beneath another sun : 
 Let this through cities work his eager way, 1285 
 
 By legal outrage and establish'd guile, 
 The social sense extinct ; and that ferment 
 Mad into tumult the seditious herd, 
 Or melt them down to slavery : let these 
 Insnare the wretched in the toils of law, 1290 
 
 Fomenting discord, and perplexing right, 
 An iron race ! and those of fairer front, 
 But equal inhumanity, in courts, 
 
/ 
 
 AUTUMN. 255 
 
 j 
 
 HjDelusive_pomp. and dark cabals, delight ; 
 
 Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 1295 
 
 And tread the weary labyrinth of state : 
 
 While he, from all the stormy passions free 
 
 That restless men involve, hears, and but hears, 
 
 At distance safe, the human tempest roar, 
 I Wrapp'd close in conscious peace. The fall of kings, 1300 
 
 The rage of nations, and the crush of states, 
 
 Move not the man who, from the world escaped, 
 
 In still retreats, and flowery solitudes, 
 
 To Nature's voice attends, from month to month 
 
 And day to day, through the revolving year: 1305 
 
 Admiring, sees her in her every shape ; 
 
 Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart ; 
 
 Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 
 
 He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting gems, 
 
 Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale 1310 
 
 Into his freshened soul. Her genial hours 
 j He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows, 
 
 And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. 
 
 In Summer he, beneath the living shade, 
 
 Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave, 1315 
 
 Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these, 
 
 Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung ; 
 
 Or what she dictates writes : and, oft an eye 
 
 Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 
 
 When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world, 1320 
 
 And tempts the sickled swain into the field, 
 
 Seized by the general joy, his heart distends 
 
 With gentle throes ; and, through the tepid gleams 
 
 Deep musing, then he best exerts his song. 
 
 1315. Tempe: See note on line 906, "Spring." 
 
 1316. Hemus: Turn to note on 783, "Autumn." 
 
 1324. This line would suggest to us that Thomson found the season of 
 
./*.* - 
 
 .^ 
 
 256 AUTUMN. 
 
 E'en Winter wild, to him is full of bliss. 1325 
 
 The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, 
 
 Abrupt and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth, 
 
 Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies 
 
 Disclosed, and kindled by refining frost, 
 
 Pour every lustre on th' exalted eye. 1330 
 
 IA friend, a book, the stealing hours secure, 
 
 And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing, 
 
 O'er land and sea imagination roams ; 
 
 Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind, 
 
 Elates his being, and unfolds his powers; 1335 
 
 Or in his breast heroic- virtue burns. 
 
 The touch of kindred too and love he feels ; 
 
 The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
 
 Ecstatic shine ; the little strong embrace 
 
 Of prattling children, twined around his neck, 1340 
 
 And emulous to please him, calling forth 
 
 The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay, 
 
 Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns ; 
 -. For happiness and true philosophy 
 
 i Are of the social, still, and smiling kind. 1345 
 
 | This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 
 nd guilty cities, never knew ; the life, 
 
 Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 
 
 When Angels dwelt, and GOD himself with man ! 
 . Oh Nature ! all-sufficient ! over all ! 1350 
 
 I Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works ! 
 
 Snatch me to heaven. Thy rolling wonders there, 
 
 World beyond world, in infinite extent, 
 
 Profusely scatter'd o'er the blue immense, 5- : 
 
 Autumn best adapted to awaken poetic inspiration and to facilitate poetic 
 compositions. 
 
 1350. Nature: The Author of nature, under this term, is here ad- 
 dressed ; for to Him alone, and not to the universe created by Him and 
 ever dependent on Him, can the language here used be justly applied. 
 
AUTUMN. 257 
 
 Show me; their motions, periods, and their laws, 1355 
 Give me to scan ; through the disclosing deep 
 JLight my blind way. The mineral strata there ; 
 Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; 
 O'er that the rising system, more complex, 
 
 *0f animals ; and higher still, the mind, 1360 
 
 The varied scene of quick- compounded thought, 
 And where the mixing passions endless shift : 
 These^ever open to my ravish'd eye ; 
 A search the flight of time can ne'er exhaust ! 
 But if to that unequal ; if the blood, 1365 
 
 In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
 
 f That best ambition; under closing shades, 
 Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook, 
 And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, 
 Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song ; 1370 
 And let me never, never stray from Thee ! 
 
W 
 
WINTER, 
 
 INTEODUCTOKY KEMAKKS. 
 
 WINTER, directly opposite as it is in other respects to Summer, 
 yet resembles it in this, that it is a season in which Nature is 
 employed rather in secretly preparing for the mighty changes 
 which it successively brings to light, than in the actual exhibi- 
 tion of them. It is, therefore, a period equally barren of events, 
 and has still less of animation than Summer, inasmuch as lethar- 
 gic insensibility is a state more distant from vital energy than 
 the languor of indolent repose. From the fall of the leaf and 
 withering of the herb, an unvarying death-like torpor oppresses 
 almost the whole vegetable creation, and # considerable part of 
 the animal, during this entire portion of the year. The whole 
 insect race, which filled every part of the Summer landscape with 
 life and motion, are now either buried in profound sleep, or ac- 
 tually no longer exist, except in the unformed rudiments of a 
 future progeny. Many of the birds and quadrupeds are retired 
 to concealments from which not even the calls of hunger can 
 force them ; and the rest, intent only on the preservation of a 
 joyless being, have ceased to exert those powers of pleasing, 
 which, at other seasons, so much contribute to their mutual hap- 
 piness, as well as to the amusement of their human sovereign. 
 Their social connections, however, are improved by their wants. 
 In order the better to procure their scanty subsistence and resist 
 the inclemencies of the sky, they are taught by instinct to assem- 
 ble in flocks ; and this provision has the secondary effect of 
 gratifying the spectator with something of novelty and action 
 even in the dreariness of a winter prospect. 
 
262 WINTER INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 But it is in the extraordinary changes and agitations which 
 the elements and the surrounding atmosphere undergo during 
 this season, that the poet of nature must principally look for 
 relief from the gloomy uniformity reigning through other parts 
 of the creation. Here scenes are presented to his view, which, 
 were they less frequent, must strike with wonder and admiration 
 the most incurious spectator. The effects of cold are more sud- 
 den, and in many instances more extraordinary and unexpected, 
 than those of heat. He who has beheld the vegetable products 
 of even a northern summer, will not be greatly amazed at the 
 richer and more luxuriant, but still resembling, growths of the 
 tropics. But one who has always been accustomed to view 
 water in a liquid and colorless state, cannot form the least con- 
 ception of the same element as hardened into an extensive plain 
 of solid crystal, or covering the ground with a robe of the purest 
 white. The highest possible degree of astonishment must there- 
 fore attend the first view of these phenomena : and as in the 
 temperate climate of Britain but a small portion of the year 
 affords these spectacles, we find that even in this island they 
 have novelty enough to excite emotions of agreeable surprise. 
 
 But it is not to novelty alone that they owe their charms. 
 Their intrinsic beauty is, perhaps, individually superior to that 
 of the gayest objects presented by the other seasons. Where is 
 the elegance and brilliancy that can compare with that which 
 decorates every tree or bush on the clear morning succeeding a 
 night of hoar frost ? or what is the lustre that would not appear 
 dull and tarnished in competition with a field of snow just glazed 
 over with frost ? By the vivid description of such objects as 
 these, contrasted with the savage sublimity of storms and tem- 
 pests, our poet has been able to produce a set of winter land- 
 scapes as engaging to the fancy as the apparently happier scenes 
 of genial warmth and verdure. 
 
 But he has not trusted entirely to these resources for combat- 
 ing the natural sterility of Winter. Repeating the pleasing ar- 
 tifice of his Summer, he has called in foreign aid, and has 
 
WINTER INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 263 
 
 heightened the scenery with grandeur and horror not belonging 
 to Britain. The famished troops of wolves pouring from the 
 Alps ; the mountains of snow rolling down the precipices of the 
 same regions ; the dreary plains over which the Laplander urges 
 his reindeer ; the wonders of the icy sea, and volcanoes " flaming 
 through a waste of snow," are objects judiciously selected from 
 all that Nature presents most singular and striking in the various 
 domains of boreal cold and wintry desolation. 
 
 AIKIN. 
 
 The general aspect of Winter is forbidding. It is the night 
 of the year; the period when, under a mitigated light, Nature 
 reposes after the active exertions of Spring and Summer have 
 been crowned with the rich stores of Autumn. We now no 
 longer survey with admiration and delight those wonders of 
 creative power which arrested our attention in that youthful 
 season when herbs, plants, and trees awoke from their long sleep 
 and started into new life, under the kindly influences of warmer 
 suns and gentler breezes ; and when the feathered tribes made 
 the fresh-clothed woods and lawns, and the blue sky itself, vocal 
 with the music of love and joy. Nor do we now expatiate in 
 the maturer beauties of Summer, when light and heat flushed 
 the glowing heavens and smiling earth, and when the clouds 
 distilled their grateful showers, or tempered the intense radiance 
 by their flitting shade. And mellow Autumn, too, has passed 
 away, along with the merry song of the reapers and the hum of 
 busy men, gathering their stores from the teeming fields. 
 
 Instead of these genial influences of heaven, our lengthening 
 nights, and our days becoming perpetually darker and shorter, 
 shed their gloom over the face of nature; the earth grows nig- 
 gardly of her supplies of nourishment and shelter, and no longer 
 spreads beneath the tenants of the field the soft carpet on which 
 they were accustomed to repose ; man seeks his artificial com- 
 forts and his hoarded food ; the wind whistles ominously through 
 
264: WINTER INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 the naked trees ; the dark clouds lower ; the chilling rain de- 
 scends in torrents ; and, as the season advances, the earth be- 
 comes rigid as if struck by the wand of an enchanter ; the wa- 
 ters, spell-bound, lie motionless in crystal chains; the north 
 pours forth its blast, and nature is entombed in a vast cemetery, 
 whiter and colder than Parian marble. 
 
 Yet, even in this apparently frightful and inhospitable season, 
 there are means of pleasure and improvement which render it 
 scarcely inferior to any other period of the revolving year ; 
 while proofs of the power, wisdom, and goodness of the great 
 Creator are not less abundantly displayed to the mind of the 
 pious inquirer. Nothing, indeed, can be more worthy of admi- 
 ration than the manner in which the rigors of winter are tem- 
 pered, so as to contribute to the subsistence and comfort of 
 living beings. 
 
 DR. DUNCAN. 
 
 Poetry, which though not dead, had long been sleeping in 
 Scotland, was restored to waking life by Thomson. His genius 
 was national ; and so, too, was the subject of his first and great- 
 est song. By saying that his genius was national, we mean 
 that its temperament was enthusiastic and passionate ; and that, 
 though highly imaginative, the sources of its power lay in the 
 heart. The Castle of Indolence is distinguished by purer taste 
 and finer fancy ; but with all its exquisite beauties, that poem is 
 but the vision of a dream. The Seasons are glorious realities ;- 
 and the charm of the strain that sings the " rolling year" is its 
 truth. But what mean we by saying that the Seasons are a na- 
 tional subject ? Do we assert that they are solely Scottish ? 
 That would be too bold, even for us ; but we scruple not to as- 
 sert, that Thomson has made them so, as far as might be, with- 
 out insult, injury, or injustice to the rest of the globe. His suns 
 rise and set in Scottish heavens: his "deep-fermenting tempests, 
 are brewed in grim evening" Scottish skies; Scottish is his 
 
WINTER INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 265 
 
 thunder of cloud and cataract ; his " vapors, and snows, and 
 storms/' are Scottish ; and, strange as the assertion would have 
 sounded in the ears of Samuel Johnson, Scottish are his woods, 
 their sough, and their roar ; nor less their stillness, more awful 
 amidst the vast multitude of steady stems, than when all the 
 sullen pine-tops are swinging to the hurricane. A dread love 
 of his native land was in his heart when he cried in the solitude : 
 
 " Hail, kindred glooms 1 congenial horrors hail 1" 
 
 PROF. WILSON. 
 
 12 
 
r. 
 
 THE AEGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed. Address to the Earl of Wilmington. First approach of Winter. 
 According to the natural course of the season, various storms described. Earn. 
 \Vind. Snow. The driving of the snows ; a man perishing among them ; whence 
 reflections on the wants and miseries of human life. The wolves descending from 
 the Alps and Apennines. A winter evening described ; as spent by philosophers ; by 
 the country people ; in the city. Frost A view of Winter within the polar circle. 
 A thaw. The whole concluding with moral reflections on a future state. 
 
 SEE ! WINTER comes to rule the varied year, 
 Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; 
 Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme ; 
 These, that exalt the soul to solemn thought, 
 
 1-1 6. Upon this passage Prof. Wilson exclaims : Divine inspiration in- 
 deed ! Poetry, that if reacTEy I'nTTedside of a dying lover of nature, 
 
 might 
 
 " Create a soul 
 Under the ribs of death !" 
 
 To this exclamation, the professor subjoins some admirable strictures upon 
 the assertion of Wordsworth, that the true spirit of the " Seasons," till 
 long after their publication, was neither felt nor understood : that the 
 measure of its early popularity was to be attributed to a " blind wonder- 
 ment, the natural produce of ignorance," to the fortunate title which he 
 bad selected for his Poem, and to the abundant use of false ornaments of 
 that kind which would be most likely to strike the undiscerning, and, fur- 
 ther, to the sentimental common-places, which, from the manner in which 
 'they were brought forward, bore an imposing air of novelty. 
 
268 WINTER. 
 
 / And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms, 5 
 
 I Congenial horrors, hail ! With frequent jfoqt, 
 f Pleased have 1 ? in my cheerful morn of life, 
 When nursed by careless solitude I lived, 
 
 The substance jof the strictures is, that though descriptive poetry may 
 not have flourished during the period between Paradise Lost and the 
 Seasons, mankind, nevertheless, had been in the enjoyment and use of 
 their seven senses, and could see and hear without the aid of those ocu- 
 lists and aurists, the poets ; that the shepherds and agriculturists of Eng- 
 land and Scotland the gentlemen and ladies, the king and queen had 
 Dot been blind and deaf to all the sights and sounds of nature had not 
 forgotten the heavens and the earth, until Thomson reminded them of 
 them ; that, as to the title of the Poem, Genius and not Fortune had se- 
 lected it that the " Seasons" are not merely the " title" of his poem 
 but the Seasons are his poem, and his poem is the Seasons ; further, that 
 if men knew little, and cared less about the Seasons, as Wordsworth as- 
 serted, both the title and the substance of the Poem would have been 
 unfortunate for its popularity: that Thomson, in his Seasons, often writes 
 in bad taste, is true, but it is not true that he always, or generally, does 
 so ; that many did, do, and will admire the bad or indifferent passages in 
 the Seasons, won by their false glitter, or common-place sentimentalism 
 such passages for example as the story of Damon and Musidora is, no 
 doubt true ; but this will not account for the admiration with which the 
 whole world hailed the " Winter," the first of the Seasons published, 
 during which Thomson had not the barbarity to plunge every young lady 
 naked into the cold bath, nor the ignorance to represent, during such cold 
 weather, any young lady turning her lover sick by the ardor of her looks, 
 and the vehemence of her whole enamored deportment. 
 
 Prof. Wilson goes on to say : There is no mystery in the matter 
 Thomson, a great poet, poured his genius over a subject of universal in- 
 terest ; and the " Seasons," from that hour to this then, now, and for- 
 ever have been, are, and will be, loved and admired by all the world. 
 Let the taste and feelings shown by the collectors of Elegant_ Extracts 
 be poor as possible, yet Thomson's countrymen, high and low, rich and 
 poor, have all along not only gloried in his illustrious fame, but have 
 made a very manual of his great work. We have ourselves seen it in the 
 shepherd's sheiling, and in the woodman's bower small, yellow-leaved, 
 tattered, mean, miserable, calf-skin-bound, smoked copies yet perused, 
 pored, and pondered over by those humble dwellers, by the winter-ingle 
 or the summer brae, perhaps with as enlightened, certainly with as ira 
 agination-mastering, a delight, as ever enchained the spirits of the high- 
 born and highly taught to their splendid copies lying on riclily carved 
 tables, and bound in crimson silk or velvet. " The art of seeing" has 
 
WLNTEK, 269 
 
 And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, 
 
 Pleased have I wander'd through your rough domain; 10 
 
 Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure ; 
 
 Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst ; 
 
 Or seen the deep- fermenting tempest brew'd, 
 
 In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time, 
 
 Till through the lucid chambers of the south 15 
 
 Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smiled. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE EARL OF WILMINGTON. 
 
 To thee, the patron of her first essay, 
 The Muse, Wilmington ! renews her song. 
 
 flourished for many centuries in Scotland. Men, women, and children, all 
 look up to her lovely blue or wrathful black skies with a weather-wis- 
 dom that keeps growing from the cradle to the grave. In like manner 
 have the people of Scotland, from time immemorial, enjoyed the use of 
 their ears. Even persons somewhat hard of hearing, are not deaf to her 
 waterfalls. In the sublime invocation to Winter, which we have quoted, 
 we hear Thomson recording his own worship of Nature in his boyish days, 
 when he roamed among the hills of his father's parish, far away from the 
 manse. 
 
 11. Myself as pure : Thomson was religiously educated; his childhood 
 was passed in scenes free from temptation to gross vice ; his mind was 
 early turned to the contemplation of the uncorrupting phenomena of 
 physical Nature in her beauty and variety a healthful and ennobling 
 occupation for the mind and heart ; and no doubt in his boyhood he was 
 exempt from outward immoralities ; but he was greatly deceived in the 
 favorable estimate here expressed of his moral character at that period, 
 if it be brought to the standard of the divine law, which is " exceeding 
 broad," and, in its searchings, deep and thorough into the human heart. 
 .The Bible leads us to a quite different estimate from that here put upon 
 himself. 
 
 18. Wilmington: Sir Spencer Compton, then speaker of the House of 
 Commons, and afterwards Earl of Wilmington, to whom the second edi- 
 tion of " Winter" was dedicated, bringing to the author a present, from 
 the earl, of twenty guineas. "Winter" was the "first essay" of Thom- 
 son's Muse. The lines that follow could not, obviously, have appeared in 
 the first edition, as they refer to other parts of the Poem not then pub- 
 lished or even composed. For the first edition of " Winter" the author 
 
270 WINTER. 
 
 Since has she rounded the revolving year ; 
 
 Skimm'd the gay Spring ; on eagle pinions borne, 20 
 
 Attempted through the Summer blaze to rise ; 
 
 Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale ; 
 
 And now among the Wintry clouds again, 
 
 Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar ; 
 
 To swell her note with all the rushing winds ; 25 
 
 To suit her sounding cadence to the floods. 
 
 o 
 
 As is her theme, her numbers wildly great : 
 
 Thrice happy could she fill thy judging ear 
 
 With bold description and with manly thought. 
 
 Nor art thou skill'd in awful schemes alone, 80 
 
 And how to make a mighty people thrive ; 
 
 But equal goodness, sound integrity, 
 
 A firm unshaken, uncorrupted soul 
 
 Amid a sliding age, and burning strong 
 
 Qsot vainly blazing) for thy country's weal, 35 
 
 A steady spirit regularly free ; 
 
 These, each exalting each, the statesman light 
 
 Into the patriot ; these, the public hope 
 
 And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse 
 
 Record what envy dares not flattery call. 40 
 
 fr 
 
 THE FIRST APPROACH OF WINTER. PA 
 
 Now when the cheerless empire of the sky 
 ! To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields, 
 
 received but three guineas ; and it remained unsold until Mr. Whately, a 
 gentleman of taste, and an author, discerned its beauties and talked about' 
 them in the literary circles he was accustomed to visit. 
 
 When fairly brought into public notice, " Winter," we are informed, 
 was universally admired, and its reputation gained for the author the ac-' 
 quaintance of several ladies of rank ; but the most valuable effect of this 
 publication was the friendship of Dr. Thomas Rundle, afterwards Bishop 
 of Derry, by whom his fame was promoted, and an introduction given to 
 Sir Charles, subsequently Lord Chancellor, Talbot, which rendered to the 
 poet very essential service. 
 
WINTER. 271 
 
 And fierce Aquarius stains th' inverted year ; 
 
 Ehing o'er the furthest verge of heaven, the sun 
 
 Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day. 45 
 
 Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot 
 
 His struggling rays, in horizontal lines, 
 
 Through the thick air ; as clothed in cloudy storm, 
 
 Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky ; 
 
 And, soon descending, to the long, dark night, 50 
 
 Wide shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 
 
 Nor is the night unwish'd ; while vital heat, 
 
 Light, life, and joy the dubious day forsake. 
 
 Meantime, in sable cincture, shadows vast, 
 
 Deep-tinged and damp, and congregated clouds, 55 
 
 42. Capricorn : The Wild Goat, the first of the Winter signs of the 
 Zodiac, into which the Sun introduces himself on the 21st of December. 
 The one preceding it is Sagittarius, the Archer, usually represented on 
 celestial globes and maps by the figure of a Centaur shooting an arrow. 
 The Centaur an animal, half man, half horse was one of the fabulous 
 creations of the ancient Greeks. 
 
 43. Aquarius: The Water-bearer, is the Winter sign next to Capri- 
 corn. A part of January and of February is occupied by the sun in pass- 
 ing through this sign. During this portion of the year excessive rains fall 
 in the latitude of the countries of Europe and Asia, where the signs of 
 the Zodfac first received their present names. The name of this sign 
 is thus accounted for. Read on (72-105) ; whence it appears that in 
 Britain also the name of this sign is not inappropriate. Brande (an 
 English author) makes the four seasons of the year to commence, respec- 
 tively, on the 21st of March, 22d of June, 23d of September, 23d of De- 
 cember, when the sun enters the signs Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn. 
 
 Inverted year : The year going backwards, so far as production, growth, 
 or beauty is concerned. Dryden had employed the same expression 
 
 " And winter storms invert the year" 
 
 The retrograding process of nature is- stained, rendered unseemljs, marred, 
 by the falling rains of winter. The dejected day (45) expresses the gloomy 
 aspect of the winter day, during the passage of the sun through Aqua- 
 rius shedding but little light, because, even at his meridian height, hung 
 o'er the furthest verge of heaven ; that is, not far above the horizon. 
 
 50. Long night : In the latitude of Great Britain, between fifteen and 
 sixteen hours long. 
 
272 WINTEB. 
 
 And all the vapory turbulence of heaven, 
 
 Involve the face of things. Thus Winter falls, 
 
 A heavy gloom, oppressive o'er the world, 
 
 Through Nature shedding influence malign, 
 
 And rouses up the seeds of dark disease. 60 
 
 The soul of man dies in him, loathing life, 
 
 And black with more than melancholy views. 
 
 The cattle droop ; and o'er the furrow'd land, 
 
 Fresh from the plough, the dun discolor'd flocks, 
 
 Untended spreading, crop the wholesome root. 65 
 
 Along the woods, along the moorish fens, 
 
 Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm : 
 
 And up among the loose disjointed cliffs, 
 
 And fractured mountains wild, the brawling brook 
 
 And cave presageful, send a hollow moan, 70 
 
 Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear. 
 
 CHEERLESS RAIN-STORM. 
 
 Then comes the father of the tempest forth, 
 Wrapp'd in black glooms. First, joyless rains obscure 
 Drive through the mingling skies with vapor foul ; 
 Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods, 75 
 That grumbling wave below. Th' unsightly plain 
 Lies a brown deluge ; as the low bent clouds 
 Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted, still 
 Combine, and deepening into night, shut up 
 The day's fair face^/The wanderers of heaven, 80 
 
 Each to his home, retire ; save those that love 
 To take their pastime in the troubled air, 
 Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool. 
 The cattle from th' untasted fields return, 
 And ask, with meaning low, their wonted stalls ; 85 
 
 Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. 
 Thither the household, feathery people crowd, 
 
WINTER. 273 
 
 The crested cock, with all his female train, 
 
 Pensive, and dripping ! while the cottage hind 
 
 Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze, and taleful there 90 
 
 Recounts his simple frolic. Much he talks, 
 
 And much he laughs, nor recks the storm that blows 
 
 Without, and rattleson his humble roof. 
 
 Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd, 
 And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread, 95 
 
 At last the roused-up river pours along. 
 Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes, 
 From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild, 
 Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far ; 
 Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads, 100 
 
 Calm, sluggish, silent ; till again, constrain'd 
 i Between two meeting hills, it bursts away, 
 Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream ; 
 There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep, 
 It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through. 105 
 
 WINTER TEMPESTS. 
 
 Nature ! great parent ! whose unceasing hand 
 Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year, 
 How mighty, how majestic are thy works ! 
 With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul ! 
 That sees astonish'd ! and astonish'd sings ! 110 
 
 Ye too, ye winds ! that now begin to blow 
 With boisterous sweep, I raise my voiaa.jLo 
 Where are your stores, ye powerful beings ! say, ' 
 Where your aerial magazines reserved, 
 To swell the brooding terrors of the storm? 115 
 
 In what far distant region of the sky, 
 Hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm? 
 
 When from the pallid sky the sun (descends, 
 With many a spot that o'er his glaring orb 
 12* 
 
 u. I 
 
274 WINTER. 
 
 Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red, fiery streaks 120 
 
 Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds 
 
 S tagger jwith dizzy poise, as doubting yet 
 
 Which master to obey ; while rising slow, 
 
 Blank, in the leaden-color'd east, the moon 
 
 Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns. 125 
 
 Seen through the turbid, fluctuating air, 
 
 The stars obtuse emit a shiver'd ray ; 
 
 Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom, 
 
 And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. 
 
 Snatch'd in short eddies, plays the withered leaf; 130 
 
 And on the flood the dancing feather floats. 
 
 With broadened nostrils to the sky upturn'd, 
 
 The conscious heifer snuffs the stormy gale. 
 
 E'en as the matron, at her nightly task, 
 
 With pensive labor draws the flaxen thread, 135 
 
 The wasted taper and the crackling flame 
 
 Foretell the blast. But chief the plumy race, 
 
 The tenants of the sky, its changes speak. 
 
 Retiring from the downs, where all day long 
 
 They pick'd their scanty fare, a blackening train 140 
 
 Of clamorous rooks thick urge their weary flight, 
 
 And seek the closing shelter of the grove. 
 
 Assiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl 
 
 Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high 
 
 139. Downs : It is rather uncertain whether the poet by this term de- 
 notes the banks of sand washed up on the sea-coast, or the barren and 
 naked, hilly tracts of England devoted to pasturage. As the rook is said 
 to live on insects and grubs, the latter is more probably the signification. 
 The rooks (a species of the crow genus) are gregarious birds, building 
 their nests on the same tree, and on contiguous ones ; and after the young 
 birds are fledged they forsake these trees, but return to them in October 
 to roost : in winter they seek shelter in a compact grove, to which the 
 entire flock repairs every night. 
 
 144. The cormorant, is a voracious sea-raven, frequenting cliffs on the 
 sea-shore, and feeding on fish. The hern, or heron, is another kind of sea- 
 bird, of the genus Ardea, having long legs, long neck and wings, and 
 
WINTER. 275 
 
 Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land. 145 
 
 Loud shrieks the soaring hern ; and with wild wing 
 
 The circling sea -fowl cleave the flaky clouds. 
 
 Ocean, unequal press'd, with broken tide 
 
 And blind commotion heaves ; while from the shore, 
 
 Eat into caverns by the restless wave, 150 
 
 And forest-rustling mountain, comes a voice, 
 
 That solemn sounding bids the world prepare. 
 
 Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst, 
 
 hurk tiho'whnlr precipitated air 
 Down, in a torrent. On the passive main 155 
 
 Descends the ethereal force, and with strong gust 
 Turns from its bottom the discolor'd deep. 
 Through the black night that sits immense around, 
 Lash'd into foam, the fierce conflicting brine 
 Seems o'er a thousand raging waves to burn. 160 
 
 Meantime the mountain billows, to the clouds 
 In dreadful tumult swell'd, surge above surge, 
 Burst into" chaos with tremendous roar, 
 And anchored navies from their stations drive, 
 Wild as the winds across the howling waste; * 165 
 
 Of mighty waters. Now th' inflated wave 
 Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot 
 Into the secret chambers of the deep, 
 The wintry Baltic thundering o'er their head. 
 Emerging thence again, before the breath 1*70 
 
 Of full- exerted heaven, they wing their course, 
 And dart on distant coasts ; if some sharp rock 
 
 subsisting on fish. Sea-fowl is a name for all the other varieties of birds 
 that derive their support from the salt water. 
 
 159-60. Fierce conflicting brine, <fcc. : The brilliant appearance of the 
 6cean at night when agitated and rough, is at certain times a most mag- 
 nificent spectacle. The cause is not exactly ascertained. Some suppose 
 it is occasioned by an immense number of animalculae ; others attribute 
 it to electricity. 
 
 r g e , 
 ve, I 
 
 n ' 
 
276 WINTER. 
 
 Or shoal insidious break not their career, 
 
 And in loose fragments fling them floating round. 
 
 Nor less at land the loosen'd tempest reigns. 175 
 
 The mountain thunders ; and its sturdy sons 
 Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade. 
 Lone on the midnight steep, and all aghast, 
 The dark wayfaring stranger breathless toils, 
 And, often falling, climbs against the blast. 180 
 
 Low waves the rooted forest, vex'd, and sheds 
 What of its tarnish'd honors yet remain; 
 Dash'd down, and scatter'd, by the tearing wind's 
 Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
 
 Thus struggling through the dissipated grove, 185 
 
 The whirling tempest raves along the plain ; 
 And on the cottage thatcTTd, o~r lordly roof, 
 Keen fastening, shakes them to the solid base. 
 Sleep frighted flies ; and round the rocking dome, 
 For entrance eager, howls the savage blast. 190 
 
 Then, too, they say, through all the burden'd air, 
 Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant sighs, 
 That, utter'd by the Demon of the night, 
 Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death. 
 
 Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix'd 195 
 With stars swift gliding sweep along the sky. 
 All Nature reels. Till Nature's King, who oft 
 Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, 
 And on the wings of the careering wind 
 Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm ; 200 
 
 Then, straight, air, sea, and earth are hush'd at once. 
 
 As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, 
 Slow meeting, mingle into solid glootfit 
 Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep, 
 
 193. Demon of the night : A mere creation of fancy or superstition 
 a being supposed to preside in the storm, and to warn those exposed t<? 
 its fury. 
 
WINTER. 277 
 
 Let me associate with the serious Night, 205 
 
 And Contemplation, her sedate compeer ; 
 Let me shake off th' intrusive cares of day, 
 And lay the meddling senses all aside. 
 Where now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
 
 Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train ! 210 
 
 Where are ybu now ? and what is your amount ? 
 Vexation, disappointment, and remorse ; 
 Sad, sickening thought ! and yet, deluded man, 
 A scene of crude disjointed visions past, 
 And broken slumbers, rises still res6lved, 215 
 
 With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round. 
 I Father of light and life ! thou Good Supreme ! 
 + 0, teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself ! 
 y" 4 . r . Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
 
 ^ ' . From every low pursuit! and feed my soul 220 
 
 - With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; 
 | Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss ! 
 
 SNOW MANTLES THE EARTH '. DISTURBS THE COMFORT OF 
 ANIMALS. 
 
 The keener tempests rise ; and fuming dun 
 From all the livid east, or piercing north, 
 Thick clouds ascend ; in whose capacious womb 225 
 
 A vapory deluge lies, to snow congeal'd. 
 Heavy they roll their fleecy world along, 
 And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. 
 Through the hush'd air the whitening shower descends, 
 At first thin wavering ; till at last the flakes 230 
 
 Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day 
 
 217-22. Let every youth commit this admirable prayer to memory, 
 and make a frequent use of it ; admirable as far as it goes, though, of 
 course, some supplementary evangelical petitions must be added, to meet 
 fully the actual moral necessities and responsibilities of each one's case. 
 
278 WINTER. 
 
 With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields 
 Put on their winter robe of purest white. 
 'Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts 
 Along the mazy current. Low the woods 235 
 
 Bow their hoar head ; and^ere the fon^uid sun 
 Faint from the west emits his evening ray, 
 Earth's universal face, deep hid, and chill, 
 Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 
 The works of man. Drooping, the laborer-ox 240 
 
 Stands cover'd o'er with snow, and then demands 
 The fruit of alThig toil. The fowls of heaven, 
 -__- "~" 
 
 232-5. Prof. "Wilson, in his " Winter Rhapsody," has some exquisite re- 
 marks upon this and contiguous passages relating to snow, and to the ge- 
 nius of the author as therein displayed. Of the passage here quoted, he 
 says " Nothing can be more vivid. 'Tis of the nature of an ocular spec- 
 trum." So, on 256-7, he observes : "Here is a touch like one of Cow 
 per' s. Note the beauty of the epithet ' brown/ where all that is motion- 
 less is white. 
 
 4 The foodless wilds 
 Ponr forth their brown inhabitants. 
 
 That one word proves the poet" He then adds : " The entire descrip- 
 tion, from which these two passages are selected from memory, is admi- 
 rable except in one or two places where Thomson seems to have striven 
 to be strongly pathetic, and where he seems to us to have overshot his 
 mark, and to have ceased to be perfectly natural. Thus, in 240-2, Droop- 
 ing the ox, <fec. : the image of the ox is as good as possible. We see him, 
 and could paint him in oils. But, to our mind, the notion of his ' de- 
 manding the fruit of all his toils' to which we freely acknowledge the 
 worthy animal was well entitled sounds, as it is here expressed, rather 
 fantastical. Call it doubtful for Jemmy was never utterly in the wrong 
 in any sentiment. Again (261-3), The bleating kind, &c. : the second line 
 (262) is perfect ; but the Ettrick Shepherd agreed with us, that the third 
 was not quite perfect. Sheep, he agreed with us, do not deliver them- 
 selves up to despair in any circumstances ; and here Thomson transferred 
 what would have been his own feeling in a corresponding condition, to 
 animals who dreadlessly follow their instincts. Thomson redeems him- 
 self in what immediately succeeds (263-4) then, sad dispersed, &,c. For, 
 as they disperse, they do look very sad and no doubt are so but had 
 they been m despair, they would not so readily, and constantly, and uni- 
 formly, and successfully, have taken to the digging but whole flocks had 
 perished." 
 
WINTER. 279 
 
 Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around 
 
 The winnowing store, and claim the little boon 
 
 Which Providence assigns them. One alone, 245 
 
 jS O ' 
 
 The red-breast, sacred to the household gods, 
 
 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, 
 
 In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves 
 
 His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man 
 
 His annual visit. Half afraid, he first 250 
 
 Against the window beats ; then, brisk, alights 
 
 On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor^, 
 
 Eyes all the smiling family askance, 
 
 And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is ; 
 
 Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 255 
 
 Attract his slender feet. The foodless wilds, 
 
 Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, 
 
 Though timorous of heart, and hard beset 
 
 By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, 
 
 And more unpitying men, the garden seeks, 260 
 
 Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
 
 Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, 
 
 With looks of dumb despair ; then, sad dispersed, 
 
 Dig for the wither'd herb through heaps of snow. 
 
 Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind ; 265 
 Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens 
 With food at will ; lodge them below the storm, 
 And watch them strict : for from the bellowing east, 
 
 246. Household gods : An allusion to the superstition of the ancient 
 Romans, who imagined that there were superior beings, or deities, who 
 had charge of their respective households and of household operations. 
 These were called Penates, and were worshipped within the dwelling. 
 Some of these gods bore the name of Lares, who were probably regarded 
 as the souls of the deceased ancestors of the family. The phrase Sacred 
 to the house-hold gods, when stripped of its Pagan dress, means sacred to 
 the family circle devoted to its gratification, and enjoying its love and 
 protection. 
 
 268-275. These lines (says Prof, Wilson) are a glorious example of the 
 
280 WINTER. 
 
 In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing 
 
 Sweeps up the burden of whole wintry plains 2*70 
 
 At one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks, 
 
 Hid in the hollow of two neighboring hills, 
 
 The billowy tempest whelms ; till, upward urged, 
 
 The valley to a shining mountain swells, 
 
 Tipp'd with a wreath high curling in the sky. 275 
 
 THE COTTAGER PERISHING IN A SNOW-STORM. 
 
 As thus the snows arise ; and foul, and fierce, 
 All Winter drives along the darkened air ; 
 In his own loose revolving fields, the swain 
 Disaster'd stands ; sees other hills ascend. 
 Of unknown joyless brow ; and other scenes, 280 
 
 sweeping style of description which characterized the genius of this sub- 
 lime poet. "Well might the bard, with such a snow-storm in his imagina- 
 tion, when telling the shepherds to be kind to their helpless charge, ad- 
 dress them in language which, in an ordinary mood, would have been 
 bombast. " Shepherds," says he, " baffle the raging year !" How ? why 
 merely by filling their pens with food. But the whirlwind was up 
 
 " Far off its coming groarfd? 
 
 and the poet was inspired. Had he not been so, he had not cried, " Baffle 
 the raging year ;" and if you be not so, you will think it a most absurd 
 expression. 
 
 276-321. Here is a passage (says Prof. Wilson) which will live forever; 
 in which not one word could be altered for the better not one omitted 
 but for the worse not one added that would not be superfluous a pas- 
 sage which proves that fiction is not the soul of poetry, but truth but 
 then such truth as was never spoken before on the same subject such 
 truth as shows that while Thomson was a person of the strictest veracity, 
 yet was he very far indeed from being a matter-of-fact man. 
 
 278- ( ,'. The wain, etc. : The pastoral solitudes in which Thomson was 
 reared, if not born, told him that, in the season of snow, the fowls of the 
 air were not the sole sufferers, for that man, in the care of his flocks, was 
 often smothered in the drift, or chilled to death on the barren hills. This 
 was evidently in his mind when he wrote of the peasant perishing in the 
 snow. It has all the marks of reality, and forms one of the most moving 
 pictures of the season. C. 
 
WINTER. 281 
 
 _Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain : 
 Nor findsTTIe river, nor the forest, hid 
 Beneath the formless wild ; but wanders on 
 From hill to dale, still more and more astray ; 
 Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps. 285 
 
 Stung with the thoughts of home, the thoughts of home 
 Rush on his nerves, and call their vi^or forth 
 
 o 
 
 In many a vain attempt. ^How sinks his soul ! 
 
 What black despair, what horror fills his heart ; 
 
 When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign'd 290 
 
 His tufted cottage rising through the snow, 
 
 He meets the roughness of the middle waste, 
 
 Far from the track and bless'd abode of man ! 
 
 While round him night resistless closes fast, 
 
 And every tempest, howling o'er his head, 295 
 
 Renders the savage wilderness more wild. 
 
 Then throng the busy shapes into his mind 
 
 Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep, 
 
 A dire descent ! beyond the power of frost ! 
 
 Of faithless bogs ; of precipices huge, 300 
 
 Smoothed up with snow ; and, what is land, unknown, 
 
 What water, of the still unfrozen spring, 
 
 In the loose marsh or solitary lake, 
 
 Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. 
 
 These check his fearful steps ; and down he sinks 305 
 
 Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift, 
 
 Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death, 
 
 Mix'd with the tender anguish Nature shoots 
 
 Through the wrung bosom of the dying man, 
 
 His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. 310 
 
 In vain for him th' officious wife prepares 
 
 The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; 
 
 In vain his little children, peeping out 
 
 Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, 
 
 With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! 315 
 
282 WINTER. 
 
 Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, 
 
 Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 
 
 The deadly Winter seizes ; shuts up sense ; 
 
 And o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold, 
 
 Lays him along the snows, a stiften'd corse, 320 
 
 Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast. 
 
 L 
 
 ELECTIONS ON HUMAN POVERTY AND WRETCHEDNESS. 
 
 J 
 
 Ah ! little think the gay, licentious proud, 
 Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround ; 
 They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, 
 And wanton, often cruel, riot waste ; 325 
 
 Ah ! little think they, while they dance along, 
 How many feel, this very moment, death, 
 And all the sad variety of pain : 
 How many sink in the jdevQjwiiag-flood, 
 Or rpprp ftevpfljjflnr flame ; how many bleed, 330 
 
 By shameful variance betwixt man and man : 
 How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms ; 
 Shut from the common air, and common use 
 Of their own limbs : how many drink the cup 
 Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread 335 
 
 Of misery : sore pierced by wintry winds, 
 How many shrink into the sordid hut 
 Of cheerless poverty : how many shake 
 With all the fiercer tortures of the mind, 
 Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse ; 340 
 
 Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life, jJ& 
 
 They furnish matter for the tragic Muse : 
 
 322-375. Here the poet, who never omits an opportunity of reading a 
 high moral lesson to mankind, reminds the proud and the affluent how 
 many of their fellow-men at that moment are suffering all varieties of 
 woe want, cold, and hunger how many in the city prison or in the hum- 
 ble hut, who have claims on their compassion or on their justice. C. 
 
WINTER. 283 
 
 E'en in the vale, where Wisdom loves to dwell, 
 
 With Friendship, Peace, and Contemplation join'd, 
 
 How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop 345 
 
 In deep retired distress : how many stand 
 
 Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, 
 
 And point the parting anguish. Thought fond man 
 
 Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, 
 
 That one incessant struggle render life, 350 
 
 One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate ; 
 
 Vice in his high career would stand appall'd, 
 
 And heedless, rambling Impulse learn to think ; 
 
 The conscious heart of Charity would warm, 
 
 And her wide wish, Benevolence dilate ; . 355 
 
 The social tear would rise, the social sigh ; 
 
 And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, 
 
 Refining still, the social passions work. 
 
 CRUELTIES OF A BRITISH PRISON IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 And here can I forget the generous band, 
 Who, touch'd with human woe, redressive searched 360 
 Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ; 
 Unpitied, and unheard, where Misery moans ; 
 
 342. Tragic Muse : the Muse presiding over tragedy, or, without a fig- 
 ure, the writer of tragedy the province of which is to depict important 
 actions, scenes of strong passion, and of melancholy interest and issues. 
 
 359. Generous band: the Jail Committee in the year 1729. In 1773 
 the celebrated John Howard, of England, commenced his philanthropic 
 and extensive explorations of European prisons made known their de- 
 plorable cruelties and wrongs awakened public sympathy and exertions 
 in behalf of their wretched inmates and secured most valuable changes 
 in the entire system of prison discipline and accommodations. In the 
 prosecution of this benevolent and arduous undertaking he expended 
 thirty thousand pounds of his own income, travelled about sixty thousand 
 miles, and endured an amount of fatigue, labor, exposure of health, and 
 sacrifice of the comforts of home and of native country, which is almost 
 incredible, and finally he lost his life by a fever which he contracted in 
 visiting a Russian prison in the year 1790. 
 
284: WESTTEB. 
 
 I 
 
 U 
 
 Where Sickness pines ; where Thirst and Hunger bum, 
 
 And poor Misfortune feels the lash of Vice ? 
 
 While in the land of Liberty, the land 3 
 
 Whose every street and public meeting glow 
 
 With open freedom, little tyrants raged ; 
 
 Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth ; 
 
 Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed ; 
 
 E'en robb'd them of the last of comforts, sleep ; 3 
 
 The freeborn Briton to the dungeon chain'd, 
 
 Or, as the lust of cruelty prevailed, 
 
 At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes ; 
 
 And crush'd out lives, by secret, barbarous ways, 
 
 That for their country would have toil'd or bled. c 
 
 great design ! if executed well, 
 
 With patient care, and wisdom-temper'd zeal. 
 
 Ye sons of Mercy ! yet resume the search ; 
 
 Drag forth the regal monsters into light. 
 
 Wrench from their hands Oppression's iron rod, 
 
 And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. 
 
 Much still untouch'd remains ; in this rank age, 
 
 Much is the patriot's weeding hand required. 
 
 The toils of law, (what dark insidious men 
 
 Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, c 
 
 And lengthen simple justice into trade,) 
 
 How glorious were the day that saw these broke, 
 
 And every man within the reach of right ! 
 
 -. WOLVES DESCENDING FROM THE ALPS AND APENNINES. 
 
 I 
 
 By wintry famine roused, from all the tract 
 .Of horrid mountains, which the shining Alps, 
 And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees, 
 
 389-413. To this passage, or rather, to a portion of it, Prof. "Wilson has 
 applied some severity of criticism. According to him, the first fifteen lines 
 are equal to any thing in the whole range of English descriptive poetry : 
 
WINTER. 285 
 
 Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; 
 Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave ! t^t-/A-^fi ,OJL 
 Burning for blood ! bony, and gaunt, and grim ! 
 ; Assembling wolves in raging troops descend ; 395 
 
 And, pouring o'er the country, bear along 
 Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow. 
 All is their prize. They fasten on the steed, 
 Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart. 
 
 but the last ten (404-13) are positively bad ; and for these reasons: 
 Wild beasts do not like the look of the human eye ; they think us ugly 
 customers ; and sometimes stand shilly-shallying in our presence, in an 
 awkward but alarming attitude, of hunger mixed with fear. A single 
 wolf seldom or never attacks a man. He cannot stand the face. But a 
 person would need to have a godlike face indeed to terrify therewith an 
 army of wolves some thousands strong. It would be the height of pre- 
 emption in any man, though beautiful as Moore thought Byron, to at- 
 tempt it. If so, then 
 
 " The godlike face of man avails him not," 
 
 s, under these circumstances, ludicrous. Still more so is the trash about 
 oeauty, force divine ! It is too much to expect of an army of wolves ten 
 thousand strong, and "hungry as the grave," that they should all fall 
 down on their knees before a sweet morsel of flesh and blood, merely be- 
 cause the young lady was so beautiful that she might have sat to Sir 
 Thomas Lawrence for a frontispiece to Mr. Watts' Souvenir. 'Tis all stuff, 
 too, about the generous lion standing in softened gaze at beauty's bright 
 glance. True, he has been known to look with a certain sort of soft sur- 
 liness upon a pretty Caffre girl, and to walk past without eating her but 
 simply because, an hour or two before, he had dined on a Hottentot Ve- 
 nus. The secret lay not in his heart, but in his stomach. Still the notion 
 is a popular one. 
 
 Famished wolves howking up the dead is a dreadful image but " in- 
 human to relate" is not an expression heavily laden with meaning ; and 
 the sudden, abrupt, violent, and, as we feel, unnatural introduction of 
 ideas, purely superstitious, at the close, is most revolting, and miserably 
 mars the terrible truth. 
 
 " Mix'd with foul shades and frighted ghosts, they howl." 
 
 Why, pray, are the shades foul, and the ghosts only frightened ? And 
 wherein lies the specific difference between a shade and a ghost ? Be- 
 sides, if the ghosts were frightened, which they had good reason to be, 
 why were not they off ? We have frequently read of their wandering 
 far from home, on occasions when they had no such excuse to offer. 
 
286 WINTER. 
 
 Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 400 
 
 Or shake the murdering savages away. 
 Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly, 
 And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
 
 (The godlike face of man avails him naught. 
 E'en beauty, force divine I at whose bright glance 405 
 The generous lion stands in soften'd gaze, 
 Here bleeds, a hapless, undistinguish'd prey. 
 But if, apprised of the severe attack, 
 The country be shut up, lured by the scent, 
 On churchyards drear (inhuman to relate !) 410 
 
 The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig 
 The shrouded body from the grave ; o'er which 
 I Mix'd with foul shades and frighted ghosts, they howl. 
 
 Among those hilly regions, where embraced 
 In peaceful vales the happy Grisons dwell ; 415 
 
 Oft, rushing sudden from the loaded cliffs, 
 Mountains of snow their gathering terrors roll ; 
 From steep to steep, loud thundering down they come, 
 W&l tp i n dire commotion all ; 
 
 And herds, and flocks, and travellers, and swains, 420 
 
 415. Grisons: one of the Swiss cantons. The rivers Rhine and Inn 
 have their source in this part of the Alps. One distinguishing character- 
 istic of the Sw T iss mountains, says Goodrich, is the Glaciers, which resemble 
 a stormy sea, suddenly congealed and bristling all over with sharp ridges. 
 The Avalanches, or slips of snow, form another peculiar feature in the 
 scenery of this country. There are innumerable valleys entirely deso- 
 lated, and almost inaccessible to any thing having life, in consequence of 
 these tremendous visitations from the surrounding cliffs. Not only the 
 snow-fields but even mountains themselves occasionally slide down upon 
 the country below. In 1806 a piece of the Rossberg, twice as large as 
 the city of Paris, slipped down at once into the lake of Lowertz and o*c- 
 casioned the most dreadful devastation. Another accident of the same 
 kind occurred in the Lake of Lucerne, in 1801, when eleven persons were 
 drowned at a village on the opposite side of the lake, by the wave raised 
 by the plunge of the falling mass. Switzerland abounds in deep and ro- 
 mantic valleys, many of which are fertile and well-cultivated, and full of 
 wild and picturesque scenery. 
 
WINTER. 287 
 
 And sometimes whole brigades of marching troops, 
 
 Or hamlets sleeping in the dead of night, 
 
 Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelm'd. 
 
 THE MIGHTY DEAD OF GREECE. 
 
 Now, all amid the rigors of the year, 
 
 In the wild depth of Winter, while without ' 425 
 
 The ceaseless winds blow ice, be my retreat 
 Between the groaning forest and the shore, 
 Beat by the boundless multitude of waves, 
 A rural, sheltered, solitary scene ; 
 
 Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 430 
 
 To cheer the gloom. There studious let me sit, 
 And hold high converse with the mighty Dead ; 
 Sages of ancient time, as gods revered, 
 As gods beneficent, who bless'd mankind 
 With arts, with arms, and humanized a world. 435 
 
 Roused at the inspiring thought, I throw aside 
 The long-lived volume ; and, deep musing, hail 
 The sacred shades, that slowly rising pass 
 Before my wondering eyes. First Socrates, 
 
 439. Socrates: one of the most distinguished of the philosophers of 
 Athens. He was born 469 B. c. He often served his country with great 
 valor in military expeditions : at sixty years of age, he was a prominent 
 and influential member of the Senate of Five Hundred : he firmly opposed 
 the oppressive measures of the Thirty Tyrants at the hazard of his life : 
 grieved at the kind of philosophical teaching in vogue at Athens, consist- 
 ing chiefly of refined speculations upon nature and the origin of things, 
 and offended at the sophists for teaching the arts of false eloquence and 
 false reasoning, Socrates originated a new and more practical and useful 
 method of instruction. After this period he spent most of his time in 
 public places, that he might come in contact with large numbers, and 
 benefit them by his lectures and conversation. He was a popular and 
 successful teacher of moral wisdom, and a disinterested and zealous pat- 
 riot : yet his enemies succeeded in procuring his unjust condemnation to 
 death by poison, when he was in his seventieth year. The last scenes of 
 
288 WINTER. 
 
 Who, firmly good in a corrupted state, 440 
 
 |Against the rage of tyrants single stood, 
 /Invincible ! calm Reason's bolyjaw, 
 / That Voice of God within th' attentive mind, 
 I Obeying, fearless, or in life or death : 
 
 xreat moral teacher ! wisest of mankind ! 445 
 
 Solon the next, who built his commonweal 
 
 On equity's wide base ; by tender Jaws 
 
 A lively people curbing, yet undamp'd, 
 
 Preserving still that quick peculiar fire, 
 
 his life in prison are described with great beauty and pathos by the elo- 
 quent Xenophon, his friend and pupil. 
 
 446. Solon : one of the " seven wise men of Greece," and a distinguished 
 Athenian lawgiver, but a native of Salamis. After a long course of travel 
 for the sake of obtaining information, he found his country on his return in 
 a deplorable state, divided by contending factions and unable to resist any 
 attacks from abroad. By his poetic talent, and eloquence, and management, 
 he persuaded the Athenians to recover, by force of arms, his native island 
 from the unjust grasp of the state of Megara. He personally aided in the 
 battles which secured its recovery. He set himself most wisely and 
 vigorously to suppress the angry feuds of his fellow-citizens, and to gain 
 their consent to a new organization of the state, which had become ne- 
 cessary, as the government was now wielded by men who made it an in- 
 strument of self-aggrandizement and wealth, and of oppressing the great 
 body of the people. He was chosen, by consent of all parties, to mediate 
 between the contending classes, and, with the title of Archon, was ap- 
 pointed to the task of framing a new constitution and a new code of laws, 
 594 B. c. He secured to every Athenian citizen the right of being judged 
 bv his peers and tried by laws to which his own consent had been given. 
 The legislative and judicial powers were intrusted to the people : but the 
 administration of government was placed in the hands of men of property 
 and ability, and this peculiarity furnished a powerful incentive to the in- 
 dustry of the people and to the acquisition of property for the purpose of 
 thereby securing a larger share of political influence. Solon's laws em- 
 braced a wide range of subjects rules of right, maxims of morality, 
 regulations of commerce, and precepts of agriculture. They were con- 
 veyed into the Roman jurisprudence about the middle of the fifth centmy 
 before Christ, and, after an interval of sixteen hundred years, served to 
 abolish the barbarous practices of the Gothic nations, and to introduce 
 justice, security, and refinement, among the modern inhabitants of Europe. 
 Consult Gillies' Greece, 162-165. 
 
WINTER. 289 
 
 Whence in the laurel'd field of finer arts, 450 
 
 And of bold freedom, they unequall'd shone ; 
 
 The pride of smiling Greece and humankind., 
 
 Lycurgus then, who bow'd beneath the force 
 
 Of strictest discipline, severely wise, 
 
 All human passions. Following him, I see, 455 
 
 As at Thermopylae he glorious fell, 
 
 The firm devoted Chief, who proved by deeds 
 
 The hardest lesson which the other taught. 
 
 Then Aristides lifts his honest front ; 
 
 453. Lycurgus : a Spartan lawgiver, for which station he sought to 
 qualify himself by a journey to Crete and to Egypt, to examine the laws 
 and institutions for which, in that age, those countries were distinguished. 
 He also visited the oriental countries, and in passing through Asia Minor 
 on his return, he found among the lonians and ^Eolians the poems of Ho- 
 mer. These he brought home with him, and made them the basis of his 
 legislation, as they contain a large amount of political and moral infor- 
 mation, useful for such a purpose. He made some important changes in 
 the constitution of Sparta : he banished wealth and luxury, and, as a 
 means to this, prohibited the use of gold and silver coin and substituted 
 iron in their place. He established public tables at which the people 
 took their frugal meals. From the age of seven years, the Spartan chil- 
 dren were educated by the state, arid subjected to rigorous discipline, 
 and manly exercises, and self-denials, adapted to make them serviceable 
 warriors in adult years. To give them leisure for martial pursuits, they 
 were not allowed to practise mechanical trades or to follow agricultural 
 pursuits, but these were assigned to the Helots, or slaves. Female chil- 
 dren received a careful physical education adapted to secure to their off- 
 spring a vigorous constitution. The laws of Sparta were few, and unwrit- 
 ten, and thoroughly committed to memory by the Spartan children. 
 
 457. Chief : Leonidas, a Spartan king and general, who manfully, with 
 a small yet devoted band, ventured to obstruct the march of a vast 
 Persian army into Greece, at the passage of Thermopylae, leading from 
 Thessaly into Southern Greece. The Spartans were overpowered and, 
 excepting two or three, died on the narrow field of this unequal battle, 
 which took place 480. B. c. 
 
 459. Aristides arid Themistocles were rival (464) statesmen. The former 
 (says Keightley) of noble birth, moderate and disinterested in his char- 
 acter, leaned to the aristocratic principle ; his rival, of inferior birth (his 
 mother being a foreigner), courted more the people. In integrity and 
 moral dignity of character, he was as inferior to his rival as in birth ; but 
 
 13 
 
290 WINTER. 
 
 Spotless of heart, to whom th' unflattering voice 460 
 
 Of freedom gave the noblest name of Just ; 
 
 In pure majestic poverty revered ; 
 
 Who, e'en his glory to his country's weal 
 
 Submitting, swell'd a haughty Rival's fame. 
 
 Rear'd by his care, of softer ray appears 465 
 
 Cimon sweet-soul'd ; whose genius, rising strong, 
 
 Shook off the load of young debauch ; abroad, 
 
 The scourge of Persian pride ; at home, the friend 
 
 Of every worth and every splendid art ; 
 
 Modest and simple in the pomp of wealth. 470 
 
 Then the last worthies of declining Greece, 
 
 Late call'd to glory, in unequal times, 
 
 Pensive appear. The fair Corinthian boast, 
 
 Timoleon, happy temper ! mild and firm, 
 
 his brilliant qualities gained the people, and hie influence soon became 
 considerable in the state. 
 
 Aristides, who was styled the Just, directed his attention chiefly to the 
 management of the finances, and was more than once chosen Archon. 
 Themistocles sought the more showy station of military command, and 
 turned the attention and efforts of the people to the augmentation of the 
 navy. His influence ere long became so great, that he was able to turn 
 the weapon of ostracism against his rival, and Aristides was obliged to 
 go into honorable banishment. With like ingratitude for great services 
 rendered, Themistocles himself, some time afterwards, was treated in a 
 similar manner. 
 
 466. Cimon distinguished himself by his victorious naval conflicts with 
 the Persian invaders of his country, and with other enemies. His achieve- 
 ments were brilliant, and useful to Athens.- In private life he exhibited 
 many virtues. As Gillies remarks, he not only reflected the most distin- 
 guished excellencies of his predecessors, but improved and adorned them 
 by an elegant liberality of manners, an indulgent humanity, and can- 
 did condescension virtues which long secured him the affections of his 
 fellow-citizens, while his military talents and authority, always directed 
 by moderation and justice, maintained an absolute ascendant over the 
 allies of the republic. 
 
 By his munificence and taste he greatly improved Athens and its 
 environs. 
 
 474. Timoleon : an eminent Corinthian warrior and statesman. His 
 brother Timophanes, having been raised to the chief command of the 
 
WINTER. 291 
 
 Who wept the brother while the tyrant bled. 4*75 
 
 And, equal to the best, the Theban Pair, 
 
 Whose virtues, in heroic concord join'd, 
 
 Their country raised to freedom, empire, fame. 
 
 He too, with whom Athenian honor sunk, 
 
 And left a mass of sordid lees behind, 480 
 
 Phocion the Good ; in public life severe, 
 
 forces of Corinth for its defence, subjected, with an utter disregard of 
 honor and of justice, the city to his own despotic sway, having put to 
 death many of the principal inhabitants without form of trial. Timoleon 
 was grieved at this treacherous and tyrannical proceeding and expostu- 
 lated with his brother and urged him to retrace his steps and endeavor 
 to make reparation to the city. The expostulation was treated with dis- 
 dain. After a few days he brought two other individuals of some note, 
 who then united their earnest entreaties to persuade him to renounce his 
 tyranny, but Timophanes at first sneered at them, and then broke out into 
 a violent passion. At this juncture, Timoleon stepped aside, and stood 
 weeping, with his face covered, while the other two drew their swords 
 and dispatched Timophanes. To this incident Thomson refers. 
 
 476. The Theban pair : Pelopidas and Epaminondas. The former was 
 brought up in affluence, but with a noble contempt of riches, expended 
 them freely in the relief of the necessitous. Epaminondas was poor, and 
 yet he alone of the Thebans, refused to share in the liberality of his friend. 
 Both were marked by the plainest dress and habits of living : they both 
 devoted themselves to the cultivation of every moral virtue. Pelopidas 
 was peculiarly pleased with corporal exercises and sports : Epaminondas 
 with philosophical studies. Both were admired greatly for that strict 
 and inviolable friendship which was maintained between them from their 
 earliest acquaintance to the end of life, in all the high stations, both mili- 
 tary and civil, to which they were exalted. This arose from the fact that, 
 in attending to public duties, they were actuated not by a regard to 
 their own honor and wealth, but by an equal and all-absorbing love of 
 country, which impelled them to avail themselves of the achievements of 
 each other as if they had been their own. See Plutarch's Life of Pelop- 
 idas. 
 
 481. Phocion: an Athenian general, orator, and statesman, born about 
 400 B. c. He was remarkable (says Anthon), in a corrupt age, for pu- 
 rity and simplicity of character, and, though he erred in his political 
 views, yet in his private relations he certainly deserved the praise of a 
 virtuous and excellent man. In his military capacity he signalized him- 
 self on several occasions. As a statesman, however, Phociou seems less 
 deserving of praise. His great error was too strong an attachment ^ 
 
292 WIXTEE. 
 
 To virtue still inexorably firm. 
 . But when, beneath his low illustrious roof, 
 Sweet peace and happy wisdom smoothed his brow, 
 Not Friendship softer was, nor Love more kind. 485 
 
 And he, the last of old Lycurgus' sons, 
 The generous victim to that vain attempt, 
 To save a rotten state, Agis, who saw 
 E'en Sparta's self to servile avarice sunk. 
 The two Achaian heroes close the train : 490 
 
 Aratus, who awhile relumed the soul 
 
 pacific relations with Macedon, a line of policy which brought him into di- 
 rect collision with Demosthenes, though it subsequently secured for him 
 the favor of Alexander. In this, however, there was nothing corrupt ; the 
 principles of Phocion were pure, and his desire for peace was a sincere 
 one ; but his great fault was in despairing too readily of his country. 
 Alexander, to testify his regard for Phocion, sent him a present of a hun- 
 dred talents, which the latter unhesitatingly refused. 
 
 As to Phocion, Plutarch says that, when the money was brought to 
 Athens, he asked the bearers of it, why among all the citizens of Athens 
 he had been selected as the recipient of such bounty ; " Because," said 
 they, " Alexander looks upon you as the only honest and good man." 
 " Then," said Phocion, " let him permit me always to retain that charac 
 ter, as well as really to be that man." 
 
 Plutarch also informs us that Phocion never exerted himself against 
 any man in his private capacity, or considered him as an enemy ; but he 
 was inflexibly severe against every man who opposed his motions and de- 
 signs for the public good. His behavior, in other respects, was liberal, 
 benevolent, and humane ; the unfortunate he was always ready to assist, 
 and he pleaded even for his enemy, if he happened to be in danger. 
 
 These particulars illustrate the text : we have not space for more, 
 though highly interesting ones might easily be furnished from the pages 
 of Plutarch. 
 
 488. Ac/is became king of Sparta, 243 B. c., at a time when the peo- 
 ple, through the influence of wealth and luxury, had greatly degenerated 
 /rom the simplicity, and frugality, and severity of their ancient manners. 
 Agis, a lover and example of the ancient discipline, endeavored to reform 
 existing abuses, and restore the obsolete institutions of Lycurgus. His 
 endeavors were applauded by the people, but opposed bv men of prop- 
 erty ; also by Leonidas, the other king of Sparta, through whose agency 
 he was condemned to death, without a legal trial, and promptly executed. 
 
 491. Aratus was born at Sicyon, 273 B. c. At the age of twenty he 
 
WINTER. 293 
 
 Of fondly lingering liberty in Greece ; 
 
 And he, her darling as her latest hope, 
 
 The..gallant Philopoemen ; who to arms 
 
 Turn'd the luxurious pomp he could not cure ; 495 
 
 Or toiling on his farm, a simple swain ; 
 
 Or, bold and skilful, thundering in the field. 
 
 THE GREAT MEN OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Of rougher front, a mighty people come ! 
 A race of heroes ! in those virtuous times 
 Which knew no stain, save that with partial flame 500 
 Their dearest country they too fondly loved : 
 Her better Founder first, the light of Rome, 
 Numa, who soften'd her rapacious sons : 
 Servius the king, who laid the solid base 
 
 erated his country from the tyranny of Nicocles, and persuaded his fel 
 low-citizens to form with others what was called the Achaean league. He 
 prevailed upon many of the most important states in Southern Greece 
 to become members of the league for their common safety and advan- 
 tage. He was an ardent patriot and statesman, but of only moderate 
 abilities as a military man. 
 
 494. Philopoemen was a brave general of the same league. He in- 
 duced the Spartans to join the league ; afterwards nobly declined to re- 
 ceive a present of one hundred and twenty talents which they offered 
 him ; and, when the Spartans violated the terms of the compact, he, as 
 general of the league, demolished the walls of Sparta, abolished the in- 
 stitutions of Lycurgus, and established in place of these the laws of the 
 Achaeans. The league spoken of was destroyed by the Romans, and the 
 territory over which it was spread became, under Mummius, a .Roman 
 province. 
 
 503. Numa Pompilius, called here the better founder of Rome because 
 he gave to it those laws and religious institutions which exerted a happy 
 influence upon the manners and habits of the nation in its infancy. He 
 was the second king of Rome, the first being Romulus. 
 
 504. Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome. He sprung from an ob- 
 scure origin, greatly modified the character of the Roman government by 
 enlarging the privileges of the plebeians, and diminishing the relative 
 power of the patricians The new constitution established by his wisdom 
 
294: WINTER. 
 
 On which o'er earth the vast Republic spread. 505 
 
 Then the great consuls venerable rise : 
 
 The public Father who the private quell'd, 
 
 As on the dread tribunal sternly sad : 
 
 He, whom his thankless country could not lose, 
 
 Camillus, only vengeful to her foes : 510 
 
 Fabricius, scorner of all-conquering gold ; 
 
 And Cincinnatus, awful from the plough : 
 
 Thy willing victim, Carthage, bursting loose 
 
 and energy, though not democratic, seems to have prepared the way for 
 the form of a republic which the government of Rome, not long after 
 assumed. 
 
 507. Public Father : Lucius Junius Brutus, at whose instigation thi 
 royal family of the Tarquins was exiled from Rome, the monarchical 
 form of government abolished, and the consular adopted in its stead. As 
 one of the first two consuls, he was obliged to try his own sons for en- 
 gaging with others in a daring conspiracy to overthrow the consular gov- 
 ernment, and restore the exiled Tarquins to the throne. They were con- 
 demned and executed by the order of their father, who, as one of the 
 fathers of the republic, for its sake quelled, suppressed, and overcame the 
 feelings of a private father. After qudld supply rises. 
 
 510. Camillus, after performing many important achievements for the 
 benefit of his country, was unjustly accused of embezzling some of the 
 plunder of the city of Veii, which he had conquered. For this, however, 
 he went into voluntary exile. Upon the invasion of Rome by Brennus, 
 the Gaul, when the capital was in great danger, Camillus was recalled 
 from banishment, and elected Dictator. He forgave the past ingratitude 
 of the people, put himself at the head of the Roman forces, overthrew 
 the Gauls, and made a triumphal entry into the capital amidst the accla- 
 mations of a happy people, who honored him with the name of Romu- 
 lus, and saluted him as the father of his country a second Founder of 
 the city. 
 
 511. Cains Fabricius, a Roman consul, was sent by the Senate to Pyr- 
 rhus to make terms of peace. On that occasion, learning the poverty of 
 Fabricius, the king urged him to accept a present of gold, as a bribe ; but 
 he rejected it with scorn, and thus gained the admiration of the king. 
 On a second embassy to Pyrrhus, the physician of the latter offered to 
 Fabricius, for a bribe, to poison the king, but Fabricius put him in fet- 
 ters, and sent him back to Pyrrhus, upon whom this noble act produced a 
 deep impression. 
 
 512. Cincinnatus: See "Spring," note 59. 
 
 513. Victim: Regulus, a Roman consul and general during the first 
 
WINTER. 295 
 
 From all that pleading Nature could oppose, 
 
 From a whole city's tears, by rigid faith 515 
 
 Imperious call'd, and honor's dire command : 
 
 Scipio, the gentle chief, humanely brave, 
 
 Who soon the race of spotless glory ran, 
 
 And, warm in youth, to the poetic shade, 
 
 war with the Carthaginians. He, with five hundred of hia countrymen, 
 was taken prisoner. Having remained for several years in prison, he was 
 sent to Rome to ask for an exchange of prisoners, not, however, until he 
 had taken a solemn oath that he would return again if his mission should 
 prove unsuccessful. When he came to Rome (says Anthon) he strongly 
 dissuaded his countrymen against an exchange of prisoners, arguing that 
 such an example would be of fatal consequence to the republic ; that cit- 
 izens who had so basely surrendered their arms to the enemy were un- 
 worthy of the least compassion, and incapable of serving their country ; 
 that, with regard to himself, he was so far advanced in years, that his 
 death ought to be considered as a matter of no importance ; whereas 
 they had in their hands several Carthaginian generals, in the flower of 
 their age, and capable of doing their country great services for many 
 years. It was with difficulty the senate complied with so generous and 
 unexampled a counsel. The illustrious exile therefore left Rome, in order 
 to return to Carthage, unmoved by the sorrow of his friends, or the tears 
 of his wife and children ; and was treated, on his return, according to the 
 ordinary account, with the utmost degree of cruelty, the Carthaginians 
 having heard that their offer had been rejected entirely through the op 
 position of Regulus. 
 
 517. Scipio : The family of the Scipios is one of the most distinguished 
 in the annals of Roman bravery and conquests. The one here alluded to 
 seems to have been Paulus ^Emilianus Scipio, who, for his military suc- 
 cesses in Africa, was surname d Africanus the Younger. He was also the 
 conqueror of Numantia in Spain ; but his great popularity was soon ter- 
 minated by his opposition to Gracchus, a favorite of the people. Being 
 disgusted with the altered state of public feeling towards him, he retired 
 to Cajeta, with his friend Laelius, and devoted himself to literary pursuits 
 and innocent amusements. Laelius was not only the ardent friend of 
 Scipio, but he had studied philosophy with Diogenes the Stoic and Panae- 
 tius, and delighted in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue. He was also an 
 eminent orator. The friendship of Scipio and Laelius was much admired 
 at Rome, which probably led Cicero, in his dialogue " De Amicitia," to 
 give the name of Laelius to one of the interlocutors. Thus, as Thomson 
 beautifully expresses the fact, did Scipio with Friendship and Philosophy 
 retire. 
 
296 WINTEK. 
 
 With friendship and philosophy, retired : 520 
 
 Tully, whose powerful eloquence a while 
 
 Restrain'd the rapid fate of rushing Rome : 
 
 Unconquer'd Cato, virtuous in extreme : 
 
 And, thou, unhappy Brutus, kind of heart, 
 
 Whose steady arm, by awful virtue urged, 525 
 
 Lifted the Roman steel against thy friend. 
 
 Thousands besides the tribute of a verse 
 
 Demand ; but who can count the stars of heaven ? 
 
 Who sing their influence on this lower world ? 
 
 Behold, who yonder comes ! in sober state, 530 
 
 Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sun : 
 'Tis Phoebus' self, or else the Mantuan Swain ! 
 
 521. Tully: Marcus Tullius Cicero, one of the greatest orators the 
 world has produced. His matchless eloquence was often employed in 
 the endeavor to prolong the existence and promote the prosperity of the 
 republic. He used it most effectually in crushing the formidable conspi- 
 racy of Catiline, for which he was designated the Father and Deliverer 
 of his country. He delivered several orations against Antony the Tri- 
 umvir. The latter part of his life was devoted to philosophical study 
 and writings. He has been pronounced the greatest master of composi- 
 tion the world has ever seen. He was murdered in his sixty-fourth year 
 at the command of Antony, 43 B. c. 
 
 523. Cato, usually called Cato the Censor, from the remarkable fidelity 
 which he displayed in that office. He often took up arms in defence of 
 his country, and ably served it as consul. He was a great warrior a 
 man of great sternness, and severity of manners, and of incorruptible in- 
 tegrity and patriotism the author of that cruel sentiment, resulting, how- 
 ever, from his exclusive patriotism, that Carthage must be destroyed 
 Prceterea censeo Carthaginem esse delendam. He had none of the gentle- 
 ness and suavity of Scipio. He was born at Tusculum, 232 B. c. 
 
 524. Brutus : Marcus Junius Brutus chiefly distinguished himself by 
 the prominent part which he took in the assassination of Julius C 1 esar, on 
 the ground that he was aiming at the possession of kingly power. His 
 agency in this matter was the more remarkable, on the score of patriot- 
 ism, from the fact that Caesar had manifested special friendship for him, 
 and had elevated him to several posts of honor. Upon the defeat of 
 Brutus on the plains of Philippi, by the forces of Antony and Octavius, 
 he committed suicide thus copying the memorable but criminal example 
 of his uncle Marcus Cato. 
 
 532. Phoebus : Apollo a favorite object of Grecian worship : he was 
 
WINTER. 297 
 
 \Great Homer too appears, of daring wing, 
 Parent of song ! and equal, by bis side, 
 The British Muse : join'd hand in band tbey walk, 535 
 Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame. 
 Nor absent are those shades, whose skilful touch 
 Pathetic drew th' impassion'd heart, and charm'd 
 Transported Athens with the moral scene ; 
 Nor those who, tuneful, waked th' enchanting lyre. 540 
 
 First of your kind ! society divine ! 
 Still visit thus my nights, for you reserved, 
 And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours. 
 Silence, thou lonely power ! the door be thine ; 
 See on the hallow'd hour that none intrude, 545 
 
 Save a few chosen friends, who sometimes deign 
 To bless my humble roof, with sense refined, 
 Learning digested well, exalted faith, 
 Unstudied wit, and humor ever gay. 
 Or from the Muses' hill with Pope descend, 550 
 
 represented, in statuary, in the perfection of manly grace and strength : 
 his brows encircled with a laurel crown, and a bow or lyre in his hands. 
 He was regarded as a patron of poets, and associated with the Muses on 
 Parnassus. The Mantuan Swain was the sweet poet of the Augustan 
 age of Rome, author of the Bucolics, Georgics, and ^Eneid, obtaining the 
 title here given him from his agricultural pursuits, at or near Mantua, in 
 early life. The history of Homer is involved in great obscurity ; but lie 
 is generally regarded as the author of the Iliad and Odyssey that bear 
 his name the most remarkable productions of any age. Equal to him, 
 however, in the judgment of Thomson and of others, was Milton, the Brit- 
 ish Muse, the author of Paradise Lost and Regained a most stupendous 
 monument of human genius, learning, and poetic inspiration. 
 
 Nor absent from the poet's view (53740) are those shades (departed 
 men) of Greece, who excelled in tragedy and in the ode. 
 
 550. Pope: Alexander Pope was born in London in 1688, and began 
 very early to write verses, so early that he used to say that he could not 
 remember the time when he began to make verses. He adopted the 
 versification of Dry den as his model. From the age of ten he was a dil- 
 igent and successful student from love of knowledge and of mental exer- 
 tion. At fourteen he was quite a proficient in the Latin tongue, and had 
 acquired great smoothness in versification. The next year he rendered 
 
298 WINTER. 
 
 To raise the sacred hour, to bid it smile, 
 And with the social spirit warm the heart ? 
 For though not sweeter his own Homer sings, 
 Yet is his life the more endearing song. 
 
 the French and Italian languages quite familiar to his mind. He wa? a 
 great reader also of the English poets and prose writers, as even his juve- 
 nile poems evince. At the age of twenty -seven he was making arrange- 
 ments for translating into English verse the great poem of Homer, and 
 that translation is pronounced by Dr. Samuel Johnson, to be " the noblest 
 version of poetry which the world has ever seen," and he considers its 
 publication as "one of the great events in the annals of learning." He 
 translated also twelve books of the Odyssey of Homer. His political 
 writings are numerous and highly valued. For a critical account of them, 
 Dr. Johnson's memoir of Pope may be consulted. 
 
 Thomson, in the text, alludes to the eminence which Pope had reached 
 as a poet when he speaks of his descending from the Muses' hill, and 
 while he alludes to the sweet versification of his Homer, he compliments 
 him most highly, by the remark that his life is an equally sweet and a 
 more enduring song. Bolingbroke, during the last illness of Pope, re- 
 marked tp Spence that he never in his life knew a man that had so tender 
 a heart for his particular friends, or more general friendship for mankind. 
 Johnson says that in familiar or convivial conversation he did not excel, 
 and that he resembled Dryden, as being not one that was distinguished 
 by vivacity in company. But it seems that he had other qualities of a 
 social and intellectual character that made his society a source of great 
 and peculiar fascination to our author. A slight sketch of these qualities 
 may be found, with other interesting particulars, by referring to note 1426 
 in " Summer." 
 
 The " humble roof in which Thomson entertained his " chosen friends" 
 was in Kew-lane, near Richmond, in Surrev, about nine miles southwest 
 from London a distance he was accustomed frequently to walk" with 
 some literarv friend. It was a very retired and agreeable retreat; where, 
 for some of the last years of his life, he divided his time between his 
 learned friends and his poetic compositions. In regard to the former, he 
 seems, from the text, to have been wisely select, and to have cultivated 
 the society of those only who contributed to rational improvement and 
 delight, of whom Pope seems to have been most welcome. 
 
 His society (we are told by a biographer) was select and distinguished 
 Pope, Hill. Dr. Armstrong, the Bishop of Derry, Sir Andrew Mitchell. 
 Dr. De La Coru, Mallet, Hammond, Quin, and above all, Mr. George Lyt- 
 tleton, were his most intimate friends : Pope courted Thomson, and 
 Thomson was always admitted to Pope, whether he had company or not. 
 Collins also seems to have been an associate. 
 
WINTEK. 299 
 
 Where art thou, Hammond ? thou, the darling pride, 555 
 The friend and lover of the tuneful throng ! 
 Ah, why, dear youth, in all the blooming prime 
 Of vernal genius, where disclosing fast 
 Each active worth, each manly virtue lay, 
 Why wert thou ravish'd from our hope so soon ? 560 
 
 What now avails that noble thirst of fame, 
 Which stung thy fervent breast ? that treasured store 
 Of knowledge, early gain'd ? that eager zeal 
 To serve thy country, glowing in the band 
 Of youthful patriots, who sustain her name ? 565 
 
 What now, alas ! that life-diffusing charm 
 
 Thomson's character (says one) was in every respect consistent with 
 what his writings lead us to expect : he was high-minded, amiable, gen- 
 erous, and humane. Equable in his temper, and affable in his deportment, 
 he was rarely ruffled but by the knowledge of some act of cruelty or in- 
 justice ; and as he magnanimously forgave the petty assaults which envy 
 or malignity levelled at him, and stood aloof from the poetical warfare 
 which raged with great heat during some part of his career, he was soon, 
 as if by common consent, respected by all the belligerents. 
 
 In the last walk which Thomson took from London to his residence 
 near Richmond, he overheated himself, and imprudently, while in that 
 state, took a boat part of the way to carry him to Kew ; but the chill 
 air of the river gave him a cold, which led to a fever that in a few days 
 terminated his life, in 1748. Collins, the poet, had gone to reside at 
 Richmond for the sake of being near to Thomson, but when the latter 
 died Collins quitted the place in sorrow, and published a touching Elegy, 
 which may be seen in the early part of this volume. Shenstone, the 
 poet, was another friend of Thomson, who, in a letter, professed himself 
 much shocked to hear of the death of a friend, whose society he could so 
 ill afford to relinquish. 
 
 555. James Hammond seems to have been another of Thomson's select 
 friends, whom he highly eulogizes. According to Dr. Aikin, he was a 
 popular elegiac poet ; was educated at Westminster school, where at an 
 early age he obtained the friendship of several persons of distinction, 
 among whom were Lords Cobham, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton ; was made 
 a member of Parliament in 1741, and died in June, 1742, at the seat of 
 Lord Cobham, at Stowe. An unfortunate passion for a young lady, who 
 was cold to his addresses, is thought to have disordered his mind, and 
 perhaps contributed to his premature death. Hammond was a man of 
 amiable character, and was much regretted by his friends. 
 
300 WINTER. 
 
 Of sprightly wit ? that rapture for the Muse ? 
 That heart of friendship, and that soul of joy, 
 Which bade with softest light thy virtues smile ? 
 Ah ! only show'd, to check our fond pursuits, 570 
 
 * And teach our humble hopes that life is vain ! 
 
 WINTER EVENING STUDIES AND AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
 The Winter glooms, with friends of pliant soul, 
 Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspired : 
 With them would search, if Nature's boundless frame 
 
 Y 
 
 575 
 
 Was call'd, late rising from the void of night, 
 
 Or sprung eternal from th' Eternal Mind ; 
 
 Its life, its laws, its progress, and its end. 
 
 Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole 
 
 Would, gradual, open on our opening minds ; 580 
 
 And each diffusive harmony unite 
 
 In full perfection, to th' astonish'd eye. 
 
 Then would we try to scan the moral world, 
 
 Which, though to us it seems embroil'd, moves on 
 
 In higher order ; fitted and impell'd 585 
 
 , By Wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all 
 
 if In general good. The sage historic Muse 
 Should next conduct us through the deeps of time ; 
 Show us how empire grew, declined, and fell, 
 In scatter'd states ; what makes the nations smile, 590 
 Improves their soil, and gives them double suns ; 
 And why they pine beneath the brightest skies, 
 
 684. EmbroiFd : Confused and irregular. 
 
 C87. Historic Muse : Muse presiding over history. 
 
 591. Double suns may here denote double fertility and abundance, as 
 the harvest depends greatly on the sun's heat. Towards the equator the 
 earth produces double harvests each year. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 In Nature's richest lap. As thus we 
 
 Our hearts would burn within us ; would 
 
 That portion of divinity, that ray 
 
 Of purest heaven, which lights the public soul 
 
 Of patriots and of heroes. But if doom'd, 
 
 In powerless humble fortune, to repress 
 
 These ardent risings of the kindling soul ; 
 
 Then, even superior to ambition, we 600 
 
 Would learn the private virtues ; how to glide 
 
 Through shades and plains, along the smoothest stream 
 
 Of rural life ; or, snatch 'd away by hope, 
 
 Through the dim spaces of futurity, 
 
 With earnest eye anticipate those scenes 605 
 
 Of happiness and wonder, where the mind, 
 
 In endless growth and infinite ascent, 
 
 Rises from state to state, and world to world. 
 
 But when with these the serious thought is foil'd, 
 
 We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes 610 
 
 Of frolic fancy ; and incessant form 
 
 Those rapid pictures, that assembled train 
 
 Of fleet ideas, never join'd before, 
 
 Whence lively wit excites to gay surprise ; 
 
 Or folly-painting humor, grave himself, 615 
 
 Calls laughter forth, deep shaking every nerve. 
 
 Meantime the village rouses up the fire ; 
 While well attested, and as well believed, 
 Heard solemn, goes the goblin story round ; 
 Till superstitious horror creeps o'er all. 620 
 
 Or, frequent in the sounding hall, they wake 
 The rural gambol. Rustic mirth goes round ; 
 The simple joke that takes the shepherd's heart, 
 Easily pleased ; the long loud laugh, sincere ; 
 The kiss, snatch'd hasty from the sidelong maid, 625 
 
 On purpose guardless or pretending sleep ; 
 The leap, the slap, the haul ; and, shook to notes 
 
302 WINTKK. 
 
 Of native music, the respondent dance. 
 
 Thus jocund fleets with them the Winter night. 
 
 -> ; 
 
 *J*^jr WINTER EVENING IN THE CITY. 
 
 The city swarms intense. The public haunt, 630 
 
 Full of each theme, and warm with mix'd discourse, 
 Hums indistinct. The sons of riot flow 
 Down the loose stream of false enchanted joy 
 To swift destruction. On the rankled soul 
 The gaming fuiy falls ; and in one gulf 635 
 
 Of total ruin, honor, virtue, peace, 
 Friends, families, and fortune, headlong sink. 
 Up springs the dance along the the lighted dome, 
 Mix'd and evolved a thousand sprightly ways. 
 The glittering court effuses every pomp ; 640 
 
 The circle deepens ; beam'd from gaudy robes, 
 Tapers, and sparkling gems, and radiant eyes, 
 A soft effulgence o'er the palace waves : 
 While, a gay insect in his summer-shine, 
 The fop, light- fluttering, spreads his mealy wings. 645 
 
 Dread o'er the scene the ghost of Hamlet stalks ; 
 Othello rages ; poor Monimia mourns ; 
 And Belvidera pours her soul in love. 
 Terror alarms the breast. The comely tear 
 Steals o'er the cheek ; or else the Comic Muse 650 
 
 Holds to the world a picture of itself, 
 And raises sly the fair impartial laugh. 
 Sometimes she lifts her strain, and paints the scenes 
 Of beauteous life ; whatever can deck mankind, 
 Or charm the heart in generous Bevil show'd. 655 
 
 646-9. The author here refers to the characters that figure in several 
 tragedies. 
 
 656. Bevil is a character in the play cf the " Conscious Lovers" by Sir 
 Richard Steele. 
 
WINTER. 303 
 
 Thou, whose wisdom, solid yet refined, 
 Whose patriot virtues, and consummate skill \ 
 To touch the finer springs that move the worldA 
 Join'd to whate'er the Graces can bestow, 
 And all Apollo's animating fire, / 660 
 
 Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine x 
 At once the guardian, ornament, and joy 
 Of polish'd life ; permit the rural Muse, 
 
 Chesterfield, to grace with thee her sonp; ! 
 
 ^ b 
 
 Ere to the shades again she humbly flies, 665 
 
 Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train, 
 
 (For every Muse has in thy train a place,) 
 
 To mark thy various, full-accomplish'd mind ; 
 
 To mark that spirit which, with British scorn, 
 
 Rejects th' allurements of corrupted power; 670 
 
 That elegant politeness, which excels, 
 
 E'en in the judgment of presumptuous France, 
 
 The boasted manners of her shining court ; 
 
 That wit, the vivid energy of sense, 
 
 The truth ofJNfature, which, with Attic point / 675 
 
 And kind well-temper'd satire, smoothly keen, 
 
 664. Chesterfield: Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield (1694- 
 1V73), (as Chambers remarks) was an elegant author, though his only 
 popular composition is his " Letters to his Son," a work containing 
 many excellent advices for the cultivation of the mind, and improvement 
 of the external worldly character, but greatly deficient in all the higher 
 points of morality. Lord Chesterfield was an ahle politician and diplo- 
 matist, and an eloquent parliamentary debater. The celebrated " Letters 
 to his Son" were not intended for publication, and did not appear till after 
 his death. Their publication was much to be regretted by every friend 
 of this accomplished, witty, pjid eloquent peer. 
 
 675. With Attic point : With point worthy of Attica, or of Athens, its 
 capital. The term Attic, from the eminent attainments of its men of 
 literature and art, is applied to any thing peculiarly excellent in literature 
 and art. As Brande observes, the term Sal Atticum (Attic salt) was em- 
 ployed by the Romans at once to characterize the poignancy of wit and 
 brilliancy of style peculiar to the Athenian writers, and to designate the 
 liveliness, spirituality, and refined taste of the inhabitants of that city, 
 
304 WINTER. 
 
 Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects. 
 
 Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, 
 
 0, let me hail thee on some glorious day, 
 
 When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd 680 
 
 Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause. 
 
 Then dress'd by thee, more amiably fair, 
 
 Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears. 
 
 Thou to assenting reason givest again 
 
 Her own enlighten'd thoughts; call'd from the heart, 685 
 
 Th' obedient passions on thy voice attend ; 
 
 And e'en reluctant party feels a while 
 
 Thy gracious power ; as through the varied maze 
 
 Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong, 
 
 Profound, and clear, you roll the copious flood. 690 
 
 THE VARIOUS OPERATIONS AND EFFECTS OF FROST. 
 
 To thy loved haunt return, my happy Muse ; 
 For now, behold, the joyous Winter days, 
 Frosty, succeed ; and through the blue serene, 
 For sight too fine, th' ethereal nitre flies, 
 Killing infectious damps, and the spent air 695 
 
 which formed the focus and central point of all the eloquence and refine- 
 ment of the Greeks. 
 
 694. Etherial nitre : Some of Thomson's notions on subjects of the 
 chemical department are crude and almost unintelligible, though we can 
 readily excuse him on this point, because chemistry, in his day, was al- 
 most an unexplored field. His theory, and perhaps that of his times, 
 seems to be, that the air abounded, in the Winter season, with saline par- 
 ticles, called by him nitrous particles, which exerted a beneficial influence 
 upon vegetation, and upon animal health, and growth, and vigor. 
 
 Perhaps, however, by ethcrial nitre he only means the element of frost, 
 manifesting itself in the material world in a form not unlike the efflores- 
 cence, the minute crystallizations of nitre on the surface of the ground, in 
 many parts of the world. 
 
 These views are strengthened by looking forward to 714, tfcc., where he 
 speaks of the potent energy of frost as consisting of myriads of little salts, 
 or hooked, or shaped, like double wedges, (fee. 
 
WINTER. 305 
 
 Storing afresh with elemental life. 
 
 Close crowds the shining atmosphere ; and binds 
 
 Our strengthen'd bodies in its cold embrace, 
 
 Constringent ; feeds and animates our blood ; t" Lj^ 
 
 Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves '700 
 
 In swifter sallies darting to the brain ; 
 
 Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool, 
 
 Bright as the skies, and as the season keen. 
 
 All Nature feels the renovating force 
 
 Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 705 
 
 In ruin seen. The frost- concocted glebe 
 
 Draws in abundant vegetable soul, 
 
 And gathers vigor for the coming year. 
 
 A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek 
 
 Of ruddy fire ; and luculent along 710 
 
 The purer rivers flow : their sullen deeps, 
 
 Transparent, open to the shepherd's gaze, 
 
 d^-murmur hoarser at the fixing frost. 
 
 What art thou, frost ? and whence ^re thy keen stores 
 Derived, thou secret, all-invading power, 715 
 
 Whom e'en th' illusive fluid cannot fly ? 
 Is not thy potent energy, unseen, 
 Myriads of little salts, or hook'd, or shaped 
 Like double wedges, and diffused immense 
 Through water, earth, and ether? Hence, at eve, 720 
 Steam'd eager from the red horizon round, 
 With the fierce rage of Winter deep suffused, 
 An icy gale, oft shifting, o'er the pool 
 Breathes a blue film, and in its mid career 
 
 697. Close crowds, &c. : Renders the atmosphere more dense and heavy. 
 
 723-5. An icy gale, &c. : Upon this and a contiguous passage, relating 
 to the operations of frost, let us attend to some pleasant remarks of Prof. 
 Wilson : Did you ever see water beginning to change itself into ice ? 
 Yes. Then try to describe the sight. Success in that trial will prove 
 you a poet. People do not prove themselves poets only by writing long 
 
306 
 
 WINTEE. 
 
 Arrests the bickering stream. The loosen'd ice, 
 Let down the flood, and half dissolved by day, 
 Rustles no more ; but to the sedgy bank 
 Fast grows, or gathers round the pointed stone, 
 A crystal pavement, by the breath of heaven 
 Cemented firm; till, seized from shore to shore, 
 The whole imprisqn'd river growls ^elow. / 
 LouJ ririgs the frozen earth, and hard reflects 
 A double noise ; while, at his evening watch, 
 The village dog deters the nightly thief ; 
 The heifer lows ; the distant waterfall 
 Swells in the breeze ; and, with the hasty tread 
 Of traveller, the hollow-sounding plain, 
 Shakes from afar. The full ethereal round, 
 ^Infinite worlds disclosing to the view, 
 Shines out intensely keen ; and, all one cope 
 )f starry glitter, glows from pole to pole. 
 ?rom pole to pole the rigid influence falls, 
 Through the still* night, incessant, heavy, strong, 
 And seizes Nature fast. It freezes on ; 
 Till morn, late rising o'er the drooping world, 
 
 730 
 
 735 
 
 740 
 
 745 
 
 poems. A line two words may show that they are the Muses' sons. 
 How exquisitely does Burns picture to our eyes moonlight water under- 
 going an ice-change ! 
 
 "The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam, 
 Crept gently crusting o'er the glittering stream !" 
 
 Thomson does it with an almost finer spirit of perception or conception 
 or memory or whatever else you choose to call it ; for our part, we 
 call it genius : 
 
 " An icy gale, oft- shifting, o'er the pool 
 Breathes a luluefilm, and in its mid career 
 Arrests the bickering stream." 
 
 And afterwards, having frozen the entire stream into a " crystal pave- 
 ment," how gloriously doth he conclude thus : 
 
 " TJie whole imprisoned river growls below? 
 725. Bickering : Rippling, moving with a tremulous surface 
 
WINTER. 307 
 
 Lifts her pale eye, unjoyous. Then appears 
 
 The various labor of the silent night : 
 
 Prone from the dripping eave, and dumb cascade, 
 
 Whose idle torrents only seem to roar, 
 
 The pendent icicle ; the frost-work fair, 7 30 
 
 750. The pendent icicle, &c. : The most beautiful specimen of pendent 
 icicle and frost-work fair that Nature has perhaps ever displayed, at 
 least in this hemisphere, was that which occurred in Massachusetts, at 
 Amherst, in the winter of 1849, and of which Dr. Hitchcock, President of 
 Amherst College, has furnished a most graphic account in his admirable 
 Lecture on the " Coronation of Winter," from which I am happy here to 
 present an extract, not having space for the whole account. I pass over 
 what he says of the antecedents of the spectacle, and of the spectacle 
 itself for the first three days, excepting one sentence, in which he de- 
 scribes it thus : " If the twigs of every tree and shrub and spire had been 
 literally covered with diamonds of the purest water, and largest known 
 size, say an inch in diameter, they would not, I am sure, have poured 
 upon the eye in the sunlight a more dazzling splendor." He proceeds 
 to say : 
 
 I could not believe that any more splendid developments of this phe- 
 nomenon awaited me. But on Saturday night the thermometer sunk to 
 zero, and on Sunday morning the sun arose in a cloudless sky, and the icy 
 shoots and pendants, more thoroughly crystallized by the intense cold, 
 formed ten thousand points of overwhelming brightness on every side. 
 Nor were all the sparkling brilliants, as on the day before, of colorless 
 light. But here and there I began to notice the prismatic colors ; now 
 exhibiting a gem of most splendid sapphire blue ; next one of amethyst- 
 ine purple ; next one of intense topaz yellow ; then a sea-green beryl, 
 changing, by a slight change of posture, into a rich emerald green ; and 
 then one of deep hyacinth red. As the sun approached the meridian, the 
 number and splendor of these colored gems increased ; so that on a single 
 tree hundreds of them might be seen, and sometimes so large was their 
 size, arid intense their color, that at a distance of fifty rods they seemed 
 equal to Sirius, nay, to the morning star ! and of hues the most delicate 
 and rich that can be conceived of, exactly imitating, so far as I could 
 judge, the natural gems ; and not partaking at all of those less delicate 
 and gaudy tints, by which a practised eye can distinguish genuine from 
 supposititious precious stones. And by moving the eye a few inches, we 
 could see these different colors pass into one another, and thus witness the 
 rich intermediate shades. I have seen many splendid groups of precious 
 stones, wrought and unwrought, in the large collections of our land ; and 
 until I witnessed this scene, they seemed of great beauty ; but it is now 
 literally true that they appeared to me comparatively dull and insignifi* 
 
308 WINTER. 
 
 Where transient hues and fancied figures rise ; 
 Wide-spouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, 
 A livid tract, cold gleaming on the morn ; 
 k The forest bent beneath the plumy wave ; 
 
 And by the frost refined thcrWflllfSF Snow, 755 
 
 cant. In short, it seemed as if I was gazing upon a landscape which had 
 before existed only in a poet's imagination. It is what he would call a 
 fairy land ; but a more Christian designation would be, a celestial land. 
 
 On Monday it was cloudy, and the phenomena presented no new aspect. 
 On Tuesday there was a storm of fine rain and snow, and the beautiful 
 transparency of the icy coat was changed into the aspect of ground glass. 
 This gave to the trees a new and more delicate appearance. They re- 
 sembled enchased work, formed of pure unburnished silver ; and had the 
 sun shone upon them, they must have been intensely beautiful. I now 
 supposed that the most brilliant part of this scene its golden period 
 had passed, and that the silver period of Tuesday would soon be succeed- 
 ed by the usual iron reign of Winter, especially as there fell several inches 
 of snow during the night. But the cold restored the ice upon the trees 
 to more than its original transparency, and the sun rose on Wednesday 
 morning upon a cloudless sky ; and a wind scattered the snow from the 
 branches, and all the phenomena opened upon us with more than their 
 sabbath- day glories. 
 
 As the sun approached the meridian, one had only to receive his rays 
 at a certain angle, refracted through the crystal covering of a tree, in or- 
 der to witness gems more splendid than art ever prepared. Four-fifths 
 of them were diamonds, but the sapphires were numerous ; the topaz and 
 the beryl not infrequent, and occasionally the chrysolite and the hyacinth 
 shone with intense brilliancy. There was wind also on that day ; and as 
 the branches waved to and fro, these various gems appeared and vanish- 
 ed, and re-appeared in endless variety ; chaining the eye to the spot, 
 until the overpowered optic nerve shrunk from its office. But the rich 
 vision did not cease through all that cloudless day. Nor did it terminate 
 when the sun went down ; for then the full-orbed moon arose, and gave 
 another most bewitching aspect to the scene. During the day the light 
 had been painfully intense ; but the softness of moonlight permitted the 
 eye to gaze and gaze untired, and yet the splendor seemed hardly less 
 than through the day. Most of the bright points were of a mild topaz 
 yellow, and when seen against the heavens could hardly be distinguished 
 from the stars; or when seen in the forest, especially as one passed rap- 
 idly along, it seemed as if countless fire-flies were moving among the 
 branches. Yet, occasionally, I saw other colors of the spectrum, espe- 
 cially the bluish-green of the beryl Through that live-long night did 
 these indescribable glories meet the eye of the observer. And on Thurs- 
 
WINTER. 309 
 
 ,. Incrusted hard, and sounding to the tread 
 
 | Of early shepherd, as he pensive seeks 
 His pining flock, or from the mountain top, 
 Pleased with the slippery surface, swift descends. 
 
 SPORTS ON THE ICE AND SNOW. 
 
 On blithesome frolics bent, the youthful swains, 760 
 While every work of man is laid at rest, 
 Fond o'er the river crowd, in various sport 
 And revelry dissolved ; where mixing glad, 
 Happiest of all the train ! the raptured boy 
 Lashes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine 765 
 
 Branched out in many a long canal extends, 
 From every province swarming, void of care, 
 Batavia rushes forth : and, as they sweep, 
 On sounding skates, a thousand different ways, 
 In circling poise, swift as the winds, along, 770 
 
 The then gay land is madden'd all to joy. 
 Nor less the northern courts, wide o'er the snow 
 
 day another cloudless morning and clear shining sun brought back the 
 glories of Wednesday : nay, to my eye this last day of the spectacle 
 seemed the most splendid of all ; and one could hardly realize that he 
 was not translated to some celestial region. 
 
 Job speaks of the balancing of the clouds as among the mysteries of 
 ancient philosophy ; but how much nicer the balancing and counterbal- 
 ancing of the complicated agencies of the atmosphere, in order to bring 
 out this glacial miracle in its full perfection ! What wisdom and power, 
 short of infinite, could have brought it about ! and when, we may ask, 
 shall it be witnessed again ? Hardly dare we hope, during our short 
 lives, again to see the time when all the requisite contingencies shall 
 conspire to bring this identical phenomenon before us, that we may feast 
 our eyes with its beauties. Let us be thankful that we have seen it once, 
 and for so many days, and under so many phases ; and let us not fail to 
 learn from it a new and impressive lesson of the infinite skill and benevo- 
 lence of the Author of Nature. 
 
 768. Batavia : Here used for the people of Batavia, or Holland, which 
 abounds in canals. 
 
 772. Northern courts : The nobility of the northern countries of Europe. 
 
310 WINTER. 
 
 Pour a new pomp. Eager, on rapid sleds, 
 Their vigorous youth in bold contention wheel 
 The long resounding course. Meantime to raise 
 The manly strife, with highly blooming charms, 
 Flush'd by the season, Scandinavia's dames, 
 Or Russia's buxom daughters, glow around. 
 
 Pure, quick, and sportful is the wholesome day ; 
 But soon elapsed. The horizontal sun, 
 Broad o'er the south, hangs at his utmost noon-, 
 And, ineffectual, strikes the jjelidjsliff. 
 His azure gloss the mountain still maintains, 
 Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale 
 Relents a while to the reflected ray ; 
 Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow, 
 Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam 
 Gay twinkle as they scatter. Thick around 
 Thunders the sport of those, who with the gun, 
 And dog impatient bounding at the shot, 
 Worse than the Season, desolate the fields ; 
 And, adding to the ruins of the year, 
 Distress the footed or the feather'd game. 
 
 WINTER SCENES IN THE FRIGID ZONE. 
 
 But what is this ? our infant Winter sinks 
 Divested of his grandeur, should our eye 
 Astonish'd shoot into the frigid zone ; 
 Where, for relentless months, continual night 
 Holds o'er the gliUeringwaste her starry reign. 
 
 There, through the prison of unbounded wi]ds, 
 Barr'd by the hand of Nature from escape, 
 Wide roams the Russian exile. Naught around 
 
 777. Scandinavia : This is the ancient name for Sweden and Norway, 
 formerly united in one kingdom. 
 
WINTER. 311 
 
 Strikes his sad eye but deserts lost in snow, 
 And heavy -loaded groves, and solid floods, 
 That stretch, athwart the solitary vast, 
 Their icy horrors to the frozen main ; 805 
 
 - And cheerless towns far distant, never bless'd, 
 Save when its annual course the caravan 
 Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay 
 With news of humankind. Yet there life glows ; 
 Yet cherish'd there, beneath the shining waste, 810 
 
 The furry nations harbor : tipp'd with jet, 
 Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press ; 
 Sables, of glossy black ; and dark-embrown'd, 
 Or beauteous freak'd with many a mingled hue, 
 Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. 815 
 
 There, warm together press'd, the trooping deer 
 Sleep on the new-fallen snows ; and, scarce his head 
 
 808. Cathay : The name formerly given to China. 
 
 812. Ermine: A species of Mustela, or Stoat, differing from the com 
 raon weazel in being about one-third larger, and in having a somewhat 
 broader head and a longer tail. In the summer season the upper part of 
 the head, neck, and body, and the greater part of the tail, are of a pale 
 reddish-brown color ; tip of the tail black, and somewhat bushy. In the 
 winter the whole of the body becomes white, slightly tinged with yel- 
 low ; but the black termination of the tail is permanent. The fur is closer 
 and finer at this season, especially in the colder latitudes, from which 
 countries the ermine affords one of the most beautiful and valuable of 
 furs. When made up, the tails are inserted one to each skin, at regular 
 distances, and in the quincunx order ; and thus arranged the ermine fur 
 forms the distinctive doubling of the state robes of sovereigns and nobles, 
 as well as of their crowns and coronets. BRANDE. 
 
 818. Sable : A small quadruped, allied to the martin-cat, celebrated for 
 the fine quality and rich color of its fur, of which the hairs turn with 
 equal ease in every direction. A single skin of the darker color, though 
 not above four inches broad, has been valued as high as fifteen pounds 
 sterling. The sable is principally a na f ive of the northern regions of 
 Asia : it is hunted and killed for the Russian market, either by a single 
 ball, a blunt arrow, or traps, by exiles or soldiers sent for that purpose 
 in the deserts of Siberia. A nearly allied animal, called " the fisher," 
 inhabits North America, and is similarly sought after, and destroyed for 
 its fur. BRANDS, 
 
312 WINTER. 
 
 Raised o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk, 
 
 Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss. 
 
 The ruthless hunter wants nor dogs nor toils ; 820 
 
 Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives 
 
 The fearful, flying race : with ponderous clubs, 
 
 As weak against the mountain heaps they push 
 
 Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray, 
 
 He lays them quivering on th' ensanguined snows, 825 
 
 And with loud shouts rejoicing bears them home. 
 
 There through the piny forest, half absorbed, 
 
 Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear, 
 
 With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn. 
 
 Slow-paced, and sourer as the storms increase, 830 
 
 He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift, 
 
 And, with stern patience, scorning weak complaint, 
 
 Hardens his heart against assailing want. 
 
 Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north, 
 That see Bootes urge his tardy wain, 835 
 
 A boisterous race, by frosty Caurus pierced, 
 Who little pleasure know and fear no pain, 
 Prolific swarm. They once relumed the flame ^ *S S 
 Of lost mankind in polish'd slavery sunk ; 
 Drove martial horde on horde, with dreadful sweep 840 
 Resistless rushing o'er th' enfeebled south, 
 And gave the vanquish'd world another form. 
 Not such the sons of Lapland : wisely they 
 Despise th' insensate, barbarous trade of war ; 
 They ask no more than simple Nature gives ; 845 
 
 885. Bootes : Bear-driver, one of the northern constellations. Wain : 
 Wagon. 
 
 836. Caurus : The northwest wind. 
 
 840. Horde on horde : The wandering Scythian clans- -the Huns, Van- 
 dals, <fec. that originally occupied the northern part of Asia and the 
 northeastern section of Europe, and thence made incursions into southern 
 and western Europe entirely changing the political and social aspect, 
 and literature, of the countries they overrun and subdued. 
 
WINTER. 313 
 
 ^ T jHie^Jove their ^ojaptains. and enjoy their storms. 
 No false desires, no pride-created wants, 
 Disturb the peaceful current of their time, 
 And through the restless, ever tortured maze 
 Of pleasure or ambition, bid it rage. 850 
 
 Their reindeer form their riches. These their tents, 
 Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth 
 Supply ; their wholesome fare and cheerful cups. 
 Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe 
 Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift 855 
 O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse 
 Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep, 
 With a blue crust of ice unbounded glazed. 
 By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake 
 
 551. Reindeer : The singular usefulness of this animal in a great meas- 
 ure recompenses the Laplander for the privation of the other comforts of 
 life. The reindeer in summer live upon leaves and grass, and in winter 
 upon moss, which they dig up from under the snow ; yet upon such 
 scanty fare they will perform a journey of inconceivable length. The 
 animal is fixed to a kind of sledge, shaped like a small boat, in which the 
 traveller, well secured from cold, is laced down ; and taking the reins, 
 which are fastened to the horns of the animal, in one hand, and a kind of 
 bludgeon, to keep the carriage clear of ice and snow, in the other, he sets 
 out and continues his journey with incredible speed (200 miles a day), the 
 animals choosing the road and directing their course with very little trouble 
 to the traveller. Their milk and cheese are nutritive and pleasant ; their 
 flesh is well-tasted food, whether fresh or dried ; their skin forms excel- 
 lent clothing both for the bed and body ; and their intestines and tendons 
 supply their masters with thread and cordage. 
 
 The maritime districts of Lapland are of uniform and rather mild tem- 
 perature ; but in the interior the winter is intensely cold : in the most 
 northern parts the sun remains below the horizon from the 20th of No- 
 vember to the 10th of January ; and the whole country is covered with 
 enow and ice from the beginning of September to the middle of March. 
 In summer the sun continues two months above the horizon ; and in the 
 valleys and plains the heat is excessive, favoring the production of nu- 
 merous insects, particularly the rnusquitoes, which greatly infest the in- 
 habitants. Like the Icelanders, they consider their country the finest in 
 the universe. BROOKES. 
 
 859. Dancing meteors : These are generally supposed to proceed from 
 
 14 
 
314 WINTER. 
 
 A waving blaze, refracted o'er the heavens, 860 
 
 And vivid moons, and stars that keener 'play 
 
 With double lustre from the glossy waste, 
 
 E'en in the depth of polar night, they find 
 
 A wondrous day ; enough to light the chase, 
 
 Or guide their daring steps to Finland fairs. ' 865 
 
 Wish'd Spring returns ; and from the hazy south, 
 
 While dim Aurora slowly moves before, 
 
 The welcome sun, just verging up at first, 
 
 By small degrees extends the swelling curve ; 
 
 Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months, 870 
 
 Still round and round his spiral course he winds, 
 
 And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, 
 
 Wheels up again, and reascends the sky ! 
 
 In that glad season, from the lakes and floods, 
 
 Where pure Niemi's fairy mountains rise, 875 
 
 electricity. From Flint's Lectures, I derive the following illustration : 
 Electricity is the sun of the poles, like that planet imparting life and an- 
 imation to the atmosphere and the earth. Under its influence, as if 
 fostered by the solar ray, plants acquire hardihood, life, energy, and en- 
 joyment, and the blood a rapidity of circulation which prevents the 
 inclemency of the climate from being felt. Every one knows that the 
 polar year is composed of one day and one night The sun ascends the 
 sky at the vernal equinox, and holds its revolutions above the horizon for 
 six months. It then slowly disappears ; but a long and beautiful- twilight 
 softens the gloom of its departure as it preceded its coming. As soon as 
 all traces of the glorious planet have disappeared, innumerable varying 
 luminous spectacles kindle in the sky. Flames of a thousand hues, glit- 
 tering globes, and scarfs of light flash across the extent of the heavens. 
 These meteors silently traverse the celestial spaces, uniting in the zenith, 
 where they form porticoes, arches, and gulfs of fire. One wide conflagra- 
 tion seems to fill the heavens, where Aurora Borealis reigns the superb 
 aerial meteor of the ascendant. See note on 903. 
 
 875. Niemi : M. De Maupertius, in his book on the Figure of the Earth, 
 after having described the beautiful lake and mountain of Niemi, in Lap- 
 land, says : l< From this height we had opportunity several times to see 
 those vapors rise from the lake, which the people of the country call Hal- 
 tios, and which they deem to be the guardian spirits of the mountains. 
 We had been frighted with stories of bears that haunted this place, but 
 
WINTER. 315 
 
 And fringed with roses Tenglio rolls his stream, 
 
 They draw the copious fry. With these, at eve, 
 
 They, cheerful loaded, to their tents repair ; 
 
 Where, all day long in useful cares employ'd, 
 
 Their kind, unblemished wives the fire prepare. 880 
 
 Thrice happy race ! by poverty secured 
 
 From legal plunder and rapacious power ; 
 
 In whom fell interest never yet has sown 
 
 The seeds of vice ; whose spotless swains ne'er knew 
 
 Injurious deed ; nor blasted by the breath 885 
 
 Of faithless love, their blooming daughters woe. 
 
 THE AWFUL GRANDEUR OF THE POLAR REGIONS. 
 
 Still pressing on, beyond Tornea's lake, 
 And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow, 
 And furthest Greenland, to the pole itself, 
 Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 890 
 
 The Muse expands her solitary flight ; 
 And, hovering o'er the wild stupendous scene, 
 Beholds new seas beneath another sky. 
 Throned in his palace of cerulean ice, 
 Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court ; 895 
 
 saw none. It seemed rather a place of resort for fairies and genii, than 
 bears." 
 
 876. Tenglio : The same author observes : " I was surprised to see upon 
 the banks of this river (the Tenglio) roses of as lively a red as any that 
 are in our gardens." 
 
 887. Tornea s lake : Tornea, a river of Sweden, takes its rise in the 
 borders of Norway, and forms a lake bearing the same name, and then 
 flows southeast into the Gulf of Bothnia, below Tornea, a place of some 
 trade under the government of Finland. 
 
 888. Hecla is a volcanic mountain in Iceland. This island is a depend- 
 ency of Denmark, and contains some other volcanoes, the action of which 
 in 1783 exceeded in violence and terror any other eruptions that are on 
 record. 
 
 803. Another sky : The other hemisphere. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 And through his airy hall the loud misrule 
 
 Of driving tempest is forever heard : 
 
 Here the grim.. tyrant meditates his wrath ; 
 
 Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost ; 
 
 Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, 900 
 
 With which he now oppresses half the globe. 
 
 Thence, winding eastward to the Tartar's coast, 
 She sweeps the howling margin of the main ; 
 Where, undissolving, from the first of time, 
 Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky ; ^- ^fcV^ 905 
 And icy mountains, high on mountains piled, 
 ""* Seem to the shivering sailor from afar, 
 
 Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds. 
 
 Projected huge and horrid o'er the surge, 
 
 Alps frown on Alps ; or, rushing hideous down, 910 
 
 (As if old Chaos was again returned,) 
 
 Wide rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. 
 
 Ocean itself no longer can resist 
 
 The binding fury ; but in all its rage 
 
 903. Main : The ocean lying to the north of Asia. At the North Cape 
 (says Bucke), Acerbi felt as if all the cares of life had vanished ; worldly 
 pursuits assumed the character of dreams ; the forms and energies of an- 
 imated nature seemed to fade away, and the earth appeared as if it were 
 about to revert to its original elements (911). A solemn magnificence, an 
 interminable space, wearing the aspect of infinity, characterized the scene. 
 The billows dashed in awful grandeur against rocks coeval with the globe ; 
 marine birds, wild in character and dissonant in language, skimmed along 
 their girdles ; the moon shed her solemn lustre on their dark and frown- 
 ing pyramids ; the stars glowed with burnished brilliancy ; and the Au- 
 rora Borealis added terrific interest to the gloomy majesty of the whole. 
 
 And what (he adds) can be more awful, and, at the same time, more 
 beautiful, than the wild and mysterious motions and colors which this 
 polar phenomenon presents ? sometimes covering with inconceivable 
 magnificence the concave of the whole hemisphere, changing its positions 
 every moment ; now resembling vast pyramids, or stretching into innu- 
 merable columns, varying their shapes and hues with astonishing rapidity 
 and with endless caprice ; now vanishing in an instant, leaving the heav- 
 ens sombre and black ; and again suddenly returning with increased splen- 
 jlor, shedding a matchless glory over the whole sky. 
 
WINTER. 317 
 
 Of tempest, taken by the boundless frost, 915 
 
 Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, 
 
 And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse, 
 
 Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless and void 
 
 Of every life, that from the dreary months 
 
 Flies conscious southward. Miserable they ! 920 
 
 Who, here entangled in the gathering ice, 
 
 Take their last look of the descending sun ; 
 
 While, full of death and fierce with tenfold frost, 
 
 The long, long night, incumbent o'er their heads, 
 
 Falls horrible. Such was the Briton's fate, 925 
 
 As with first prow (what have not Britons dared ?) 
 
 He for the passage sought, attempted since 
 
 So much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
 
 By jealous nature with eternal bars. 
 
 In these fell regions in Arzina caught, 930 
 
 And to the stony deep his idle ship 
 
 925. Briton's fate : Sir Hugh Willoughby, sent by Queen Elizabeth to 
 discover the northeast passage. 
 
 930-935. In these fell regions, &c. : To prepare the way for a criticism > 
 on this admirable passage, Prof. Wilson observes : How pleasant to see ^ 
 the peculiar genius of Cowper contrasted with that of Thomson. The 
 gentle Cowper delighting, for the most part, in tranquil images for his 
 life was passed amidst tranquil nature ; the enthusiastic Thomson more 
 pleased with images of power. Cowper says : 
 
 " On the flood, 
 
 Indurated and fix'd, the snowy weight 
 Lies undissolved while silently beneath 
 And unperceived the current steals away" 
 
 How many thousand times the lines we are now going to quote have been 
 quoted, nobody can tell ; but we quote them once more for the purpose 
 of asking you, if you think any one poet of this age could have written 
 them could have chilled one's very soul as well as body, with such in- 
 tense feeling of cold \ Not one. 
 
 "In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, 
 And to the stony deep his idle ship 
 Immediate seaVd, he with his hapless crew, 
 Each full exerted at his several task, 
 Froze into statues to the cordage glued 
 The sailor, and the pilot to his helm /" 
 
318 WINTER. 
 
 Immediate seal'd, he with his hapless crew, T 
 
 Each full exerted at his several task, 
 
 Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued 
 
 The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. 935 
 
 Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing stream 
 Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of men ; 
 And, half enliven'd by the distant sun, 
 That rears and ripens man as well as plants, 
 Here human Nature wears its rudest form. 940 
 
 Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves, 
 Here by dull fires, and witl^ unjojousjcjxeejy- 
 They waste the tedious gloom. Immersed in furs, 
 Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song, 
 Nor tenderness they know ; nor aught of life 945 
 
 Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without ; 
 Till morn at length, her roses drooping all, 
 
 The oftener the more we read the " Winter" especially the last two or 
 three hundred lines the angrier is our wonder with Wordsworth for as- 
 serting that Thomson owed the national popularity that his "Winter" 
 immediately won, to his commonplace sentimentalities, and his vicious 
 style ! Yet true it is that he was sometimes guilty of both ; and, but 
 for his transcendent genius, they might have obscured the lustre of his 
 fame. But such sins are not very frequent in the " Seasons," and were 
 all committed in the glow of that fine and bold enthusiasm, which, to his 
 imagination, arrayed all things, and all words, in a light that seemed to 
 him at the time to be poetry though sometimes it was but " false glit- 
 ter." Besides, he was but young ; and his great work was his first. He 
 had not philosophized his language into poetry, as Wordsworth himself 
 has done, after long years of profoundest study of the laws of thought 
 and speech. But in such study, while much is gained, is not something 
 lost \ And is there not a charm in the free, flowing, chartered libertinism 
 of the diction and versification of the " Seasons" above all, in the closing 
 strains of the " Winter," and in the whole of the " Hymn," which inspires 
 a delight and wonder, that is seldom breathed upon us glorious poem, 
 on the whole, as it is from the more measured march of the " Ex-; 
 cursion." 
 
 937. Oby : the largest river of Siberia 1900 miles long, and navigable 
 nearly the whole distance. The last of men occupy its shores, that is, 
 none are found north of this region. 
 
WINTEK. ' 319 
 
 Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their field, 
 And calls the quiver 'd savage to the chase. / 
 
 \'*\ 
 
 PETER THE GREAT, OF RUSSIA, 
 
 X 
 
 What cannot active government perform, 950 
 
 New moulding man ? Wide stretching from these shores, 
 A people savage from remotest time, 
 A huge neglected empire, one vast mind, 
 By Heaven inspired, from Gothic darkness call'd. 
 Immortal Peter ! first of monarchs ! he 955 
 
 955. Immortal Peter : a monarch of singular energy and originality of 
 character, to whom, more than to any other of her monarchs, Russia 
 stands indebted for the promotion of her national interests. The services 
 which he performed are admirably stated by Thomson, and with great 
 fulness of detail, yet some of the points admit of a happy illustration from 
 the pages of Russell's Modern Europe. Several princes (says this his- 
 torian), before this illustrious barbarian, disgusted with the pursuits of 
 ambition, or tired with sustaining the load of public affairs, had renounced 
 their crowns, and taken refuge in the shade of indolence, or of philosophi- 
 cal retirement ; but history affords no example of any sovereign who had 
 divested himself of the royal character in order to learn the art of govern- 
 ing better : that was a stretch of magnanimity reserved for Peter the 
 Great. Though almost destitute himself of education, he discovered, by 
 the natural force of his genius, and a few conversations with strangers, 
 his own rude state and the savage condition of his subjects. He resolved 
 to become worthy of the character of a MAN, to see men, and to have men 
 to govern. Animated by the noble ambition of acquiring instruction, and 
 of carrying back to his people the improvements of other nations, he ac- 
 cordingly quitted his dominions in 1697, as a private gentleman in the 
 retinue of three ambassadors whom he sent to different courts of Europe. 
 
 As soon as Peter arrived at Amsterdam, which was the first place that 
 particularly attracted his notice, he applied himself to the study of com- 
 merce and the mechanical arts; and, in order more completely to acquire 
 the art of ship-building, he entered himself as a carpenter in one of the 
 principal dock-yards, and labored and lived in all respects, as the common 
 journeymen. At his leisure hours he studied natural philosophy, naviga- 
 tion, fortification, surgery, and such other sciences as may be necessary to 
 the sovereign of a barbarous people. From Holland he passed over to 
 England, where he perfected himself in the art of ship-building. King 
 William, in order to gain his favor, entertained him with a naval review, 
 
320 WINTER. 
 
 His stubborn country tamed ; her rocks, her fens, 
 
 Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons ; 
 
 And while the fierce barbarian he subdued, 
 
 To more exalted soul he raised the man. 
 
 Ye shades of ancient heroes, ye who toiTd 960 
 
 Through long, successive ages to build up 
 
 A laboring plan of state, behold at once 
 
 The wonder done ! behold the matchless prince ! 
 
 Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then 
 
 A mighty shadow of unreal power ; 965 
 
 Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts ; 
 
 And roaming every land, in every port 
 
 His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand 
 
 Unwearied plying the mechanic tool, 
 
 Gathered the seeds of trade, of useful arts, 970 
 
 Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill. 
 
 Charged with the stores of Europe, home he goes ! 
 
 Then cities rise amid th' illumined waste ; 
 
 O'er joyj&ssvdeserts smiles the rural reign ; 
 
 Far distant flood to flood is social join'd ; 975 
 
 Th' astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar ; 
 
 Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd 
 
 With daring keel before ; and armies stretch 
 
 Each way their dazzling files, repressing here 
 
 The frantic Alexander of the North, 980 
 
 made him a present of an elegant yacht, and permitted him to engage 
 in his service a number of ingenious artificers. Thus instructed, and at- 
 tended by several men of science, Peter returned to Russia, after an ab- 
 sence of nearly two years, with all the useful and many of the ornamental 
 arts in his train. 
 
 By his wise agency the arts and sciences were introduced into his then 
 barbarous empire; in 1724 the first university was established. In the 
 next year Peter died ; and it has been justly said, that perhaps no coun- 
 try ever exhibited in so short a time, the wonders that may be effected 
 by the genius and exertions of one man. 
 
 980. Alexander of the North : Charles XII., of Sweden, who directed 
 his great military energies chiefly against Peter the Great, and the Turks. 
 
WINTER. 321 
 
 And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons. 
 Sloth flies the land, and ignorance, and vice, 
 Of old dishonor proud. It glows around, 
 Taught by the Royal Hand that roused the whole, 
 
 He was a man of daring courage and singular success in his military en- 
 terprises. He made war his business and his glory. His death occurred 
 in circumstances which show the warlike and intrepid character of this 
 fighting monarch. He had placed himself with his army before Freder- 
 icshall, in Norway, in the month of December, when the cold was so ex- 
 treme that many of his soldiers on duty dropped down dead ; but, to ani- 
 mate his army, he exposed himself to all the severities of the weather, 
 and slept even in the open air, with simply his cloak wrapped about him. 
 As he was surveying by starlight, one night, the operations of his army 
 making their approach to the place, he was killed by a ball from the ene- 
 my's cannon. The moment he received the blow, though it became almost 
 instantly fatal, it is said that he grasped instinctively the hilt of his sword, 
 and was found dead with his hand in that position, so characteristic of the 
 master-passion of his soul. 
 
 During one of his campaigns against Peter, a proposal of peace was 
 sent to him by the latter, to which he arrogantly replied : " I will treat 
 at Moscow" meaning that he would make peace when he had conquered 
 the capital of* the Czar. " My brother Charles," replied the Czar, when 
 this answer was conveyed to him, " always affects to play the Alexander ; 
 but he will not, I'hope, find in me a Darius." Charles, with all the bravery 
 and self-confidence of Alexander, but without his wisdom and foresight, 
 attempted, without adequate preparations, to march to Moscow ; and the 
 Czar defeated his purpose by destroying the roads and laying waste the 
 country. 
 
 In the opinion of Russell, " no prince perhaps ever had fewer weaknesses, 
 or possessed so many eminent with so few amiable qualities, as Charles 
 XIL, of Sweden. Rigidly just, but void of lenity ; romantically brave, 
 but blind to consequences ; profusely generous, without knowing how to 
 oblige ; temperate without delicacy ; and chaste without acquiring the 
 praise of continence, because he seems to have -been insensible to the 
 charms of the sex ; a stranger to the pleasures of society, and but slightly 
 acquainted with books ; a Goth in his manners, and a savage in his resent- 
 ments ; resolute even to obstinacy, inexorable in vengeance, and inacces- 
 sible to sympathy, he has little to conciliate our love or esteem. But his 
 wonderful intrepidity and perseverance in enterprise, his firmness under 
 misfortune, his contempt of danger, and his enthusiastic passion for glory, 
 will ever command our admiration." 
 
 981. Othman, a distinguished ruler of the Turks in the early part of 
 the fourteenth century. The Turks are here called his sons. 
 
 14* 
 
322 WINTER. 
 
 One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade : 985 
 
 For what his wisdom planned, and power enforced, 
 More potent still, his great example show'd. 
 
 FROST SUCCEEDED BY A THAW. 
 
 Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
 Blow hollow blustering from the south. Subdued, 
 The frost resolves into a trickling thaw. 990 
 
 Spotted the mountains shine ; loose sleet descends, 
 And floods the country round. The rivers- swell, 
 Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, 
 O'er rocks and woods, in broad, brown cataracts, 
 A thousand. snow -fed torrents shoot at once ; 995 
 
 And, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain 
 Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas, 
 That wash'd th*' ungenial pole, will rest no more 
 Beneath the shackles of the mighty north ; 
 But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. 1000 
 
 And hark ! the lengthening roar continuous runs 
 Athwart the rifted deep ; at once it bursts, 
 And piles a thousand mountains, to the clouds. 
 
 'S3^mS5Saaa'ii"" " "*" ' ^ g * fcfeM *'''^"'"i^an r jiii ii^r> ' L 
 
 111 fares the bark, with trembling wretches charged, ' 
 
 That, toss'd amid the floating fragments, moors 1005 
 
 Beneath the shelter of an icy isle ; 
 
 While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks 
 
 More horrible. Can human force endure 
 
 Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round : 
 
 Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness, J^ 1010 
 
 The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice, 
 
 Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage, 
 
 And in dire echoes bellowing round the main ? 
 
 o 
 
 More to embroil the deep, Leviathan, 
 1014 Leviathan : In the forty-first chapter of the book of Job we hav* 
 
WINTER. 323 
 
 And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, 1015 
 
 Tempest the loosen'd brine ;, while through the gloom, 
 Far from the bleak, inhospitable shore, 
 Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl 
 ' uf famish'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks. 
 Yet Providence, that ever- waking Eye, 1020 
 
 Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 
 Of mortals, lost to hope, and lights them safe, 
 Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 
 
 . _ \ THE SEASONS, A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
 And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. 1025 
 
 How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! 
 How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
 His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! 
 
 a description of this marine animal, which applies to the whale more closely 
 than to any other monster of the deep. 
 
 1028-1041. Behold, &c. : What a noble and practical conclusion is here 
 given to this admirable Poem ! The author wisely seeks not only to store 
 our minds with a knowledge of Nature and of men, but to give our thoughts 
 a religious and profitable direction. He calls us to a contemplation of 
 our own life as pictured in the scenes of the Seasons which he has so 
 beautifully described. He reminds us that Autumn and Winter succeed 
 to our Spring and our Summer : that former hopes have fled ; that the 
 bustling activities of vigorous manhood will give place to a more quiet 
 mode of life ; that all our schemes, but those which have virtue or reli- 
 gion as their basis, will prove evanescent and profitless. And as the 
 opening Spring demonstrates the utilities of Winter, and vindicates the 
 wisdom and benevolence of the great Author of the Seasons, so, in the 
 future state of man, will be cleared up the mysteries of Divine Providence 
 in the present comparatively wintry state of the Christian's existence. 
 How consoling to the good, amid the adversities and sorrows of the pres- 
 ent life, to listen to the concluding lines, in which they are so tenderly 
 addressed : 
 
 " Yet boar up a while, 
 
 And what your bounded view, which only saw 
 
 A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : 
 
 The storms of "Wintry Time will quickly pass, 
 
 And one unbounded Spring encircle all !" 
 
32* 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 jSee here thy pictured life : Pass some few years, 
 Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, 1030 
 Thy sober Autumn fading into age, 
 And pale concluding Winter comes at last, 
 And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled 
 Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes 
 Of happiness? those longings after fame? 1035 
 
 Those restless cares ? those busy, bustling days ? 
 Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts, 
 Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life ? 
 All now are vanish'd ! Virtue sole survives, 
 Immortal, never-failing friend of man, 1040 
 
 His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 
 J Tis come, the glorious morn ! the second birth 
 Of heaven and earth ! ^Awakening Nature hears 
 The new-creating word, and starts to life, 
 In every heightened form, from pain and death J045 
 
 Forever free. ; The great eternal scheme, 
 Involving att, and in a perfect whole 
 Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads, 
 To reason's eye refined clears up apace. 
 Ye vainly wise! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 1050 \X 
 
 Confounded in the dust, adore that Power \^- 
 
 And Wisdom oft arraigned : see now the cause, 
 Why unassuming worth in secret lived, 
 And died neglected ; why the good manes share i /, 
 In life was gall and bitterness of soul; * 1055 
 
 Why the lone widow and her orphans pined ^ 
 
 In starving solitude, while Luxury, 
 In palaces, lay straining her low thought, 
 To form unreal wants ; why heaven-bora Truth, 
 And Moderation fair, wore the red marks 
 Of Supers titiones scourge ; why licensed Pain, 
 That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, 
 Embittered all our bliss. Ye ^food distressed ! 
 
A 
 
 WINTER. 325 
 
 Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
 
 Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, 1065 
 
 And what your bounded view, which only saw 
 
 A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : 
 
 The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass. 
 
 And one unbounded Spring encircle alL 
 
HYMN ON THE SEASONS. 
 
 THOMSON'S " SEASONS" is as eminently a religious, as it is a 
 descriptive poem. Thoroughly impressed with sentiments of 
 veneration for the Author of that assemblage of order and beauty 
 which it was his province to paint, he takes every proper occa- 
 sion to excite similar emotions in the breasts of his readers. 
 Entirely free from the gloom of superstition and the narrowness 
 of bigotry, he everywhere represents the Deity as the kind and 
 beneficent parent of all his works, always watching over their 
 best interests, and from seeming evil always educing the greatest 
 possible good to all his creatures. In every appearance of na- 
 ture he beholds the operation of a Divine hand ; and regards, 
 according to his own emphatical phrase, each'change throughout 
 the revolving year as but the "varied God." This spirit, which 
 breaks forth at intervals in each division of his poem, shines full 
 and concentred in the noble Hymn which crowns the work. 
 This piece, the sublimest production of its kind since the days 
 of Milton, should be considered as the winding up of all the 
 variety of matter and design contained in the preceding parts ; 
 and thus is not only admirable as a separate composition, but is 
 contrived with masterly skill to strengthen the unity and con- 
 nection of the great whole. AIKIN. 
 
HYMN. 
 
 ! THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these 
 Are but the varied GOD. The rolling year 
 / Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring 
 THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. 
 Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; 5 
 
 Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
 And every sense, and every heart is joy. 
 Then comes THY glory in the Summer months, 
 With light and heat refulgent. Then THY sun 
 Shoots full perfection through the swelling year ; 10 
 
 And oft THY VOICE in dreadful thunder speaks ; 
 
 2. The varied God: A concise and emphatic expression for the varied 
 operations and manifestations of God. 
 
 3. Is full of Thee : This sentiment has been admirably illustrated by 
 Dr. Duncan in his fourth volume of the " Seasons," as follows : It is the 
 sense of a present Deity which fills the heart with the deepest and purest 
 emotion. When we trace his hand forming the elegant flower, and paint- 
 ing its blushing petals, or throwing the green carpet over the earth, or 
 rearing the lofty forest, or spreading out the waters of the great deep, 
 and prescribing the bounds which it cannot pass ; when we see Him shin- 
 ing in the sun, and giving glory to his morning, mid-day, and evening rays, 
 or drawing the curtain of night, and pouring around us the softened bright 
 ness of ten thousand sparkling worlds ; when we hear Him whispering in 
 the breeze, murmuring in the stream, or raising his awful voice in the 
 rolling thunder, it is then that brute nature becomes animated, intelligent, 
 and glorious ; the seen is but an indication of the unseen ; the inactive of 
 the active ; the lifeless and unintellectual mass of all that is excellent in 
 power, and wisdom, and goodness. 
 
328 HYMN. 
 
 And oft at. dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
 
 By brooks and groves, in hollow- whispering gales. 
 
 THY bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, 
 
 And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 15 
 
 In Winter awful THOU ; with clouds and storms 
 
 Around THEE thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd ; 
 
 Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing, 
 
 Riding sublime, THOU bidst the world adore, 
 
 And humblest Nature with THY northern blast. 20 
 
 Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, 
 Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train, 
 Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, 
 Such beauty and beneficence combined ; 
 Shade unperceived, so softening into shade ; 25 
 
 And all so forming an harmonious whole ; 
 That as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
 But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
 Man marks not THEE, marks not the mighty Hand, 
 That, ever busy, wheels the silent sphere ; 30 
 
 Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
 The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; 
 Flings from the sun direct the naming day ; 
 Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
 And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 35 
 
 With transport touches all the springs of life. 
 
 Nature, attend ! join, every living soul 
 Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, 
 In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise 
 
 One general song ! To HIM, ye vocal gales, 40 
 
 Breathe soft, whose spirit in your freshness breathes ; 
 Oh, talk of HIM in solitary glooms ! 
 Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine 
 Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. 
 And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 45 
 
 Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to Heaven 
 
HYMN. 
 
 The impetuous song, and say from whom y 
 
 His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; 
 
 And let me catch it as I muse along. 
 
 Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound ; 50 
 
 Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
 
 Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, 
 
 A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
 
 Sound HIS stupendous praise ; whose greater voice 
 
 Or bids you roar or bids your roarings fall. 55 
 
 Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, 
 
 In mingled clouds to HIM, whose sun exalts, 
 
 Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. 
 
 Ye forests, bend ; ye harvests, wave to HIM ; 
 
 Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 60 
 
 As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
 
 Ye, that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep 
 
 Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, 
 
 Ye constellations, while your angels strike, 
 
 Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 65 
 
 Great source of day ! best image here below 
 
 Of thy CREATOR, ever pouring wide, 
 
 From world to world, the vital ocean round, 
 
 On Nature write with every beam HIS praise. 
 
 The thunder rolls : be hush'd the prostrate world, 70 
 
 While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 
 
 Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye mossy rocks, 
 
 Retain the sound : the broad responsive low, 
 
 Ye valleys, raise ; for the GREAT SHEPHERD reigns ; 
 
 And HIS unsuffering kingdom yet will come. 75 
 
 Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless song 
 
 72. Bleat out afresh, ye hills : A reference is implied to the flocks that 
 cover them, and by which the act is to be performed : so in the next two 
 lines, the valleys are called upon to raise the broad responsive low (or 
 lowing), that is, from the cattle grazing in them in allusion to both of 
 which, accordingly, God is immediately described as the Great Shepherd. 
 
330 HYMN. 
 
 Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, 
 
 Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, 
 
 Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela, charm 
 
 The listening shades, and teach the night HIS praise. 80 
 
 Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, 
 
 ll (weti IM bead, tlie heart, and tongue of all, 
 
 Crown the great hymn. In swarming cities vast, 
 
 Assembled men, to the deep organ join 
 
 The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear, 85 
 
 At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; 
 
 And, as each mingling flame increases each, 
 
 In one united ardor rise to Heaven. 
 
 Or, if you rather choose the rural shade, 
 
 And find a fane in every sacred grove ; 90 
 
 There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, 
 
 The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 
 
 Still sing the GOD OF SEASONS as they roll ! \ 
 
 For me, when I forget the darling theme, 
 
 Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray 95 
 
 liussets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, 
 
 Or Winter rises in the blackening east ; 
 
 Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, 
 
 And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! 
 
 Should fate command me to the furthest verge 100 
 
 Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, 
 Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 
 Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
 Flames on th' Atlantic isles ; 'tis naught to me ; 
 
 79. Philomela: The nightingale, much celebrated by the British Muse, 
 as the sweet bird of night. The name was derived from the fable of Phi- 
 lomela, a daughter of an Athenian king, being changed into a nightingale. 
 
 81. Ye chief: The human race is here addressed. 
 
 100-18. It would be folly to attempt to enhance the effect of this clos- 
 ing paragraph by an exposition. It makes its appeal intelligibly to the 
 humblest understanding, and finds its way irresistibly to every heart. It 
 is equally beautiful in language, and sublime and elevating in sentiment 
 
33* 
 
 Since GOD is ever present, ever felt, 105 
 
 In the void waste as in the city full ; 
 
 And where HE vital breathes there must be joy. 
 
 When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, 
 
 And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
 
 I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers, 110 
 
 Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go 
 
 Where Universal Love not smiles around, 
 
 Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ; 
 
 From seeming evil still educing good, 
 
 And better thence again, and better still, 115 
 
 In infinite progression. But I lose 
 
 Myself in HIM, in light ineffable ! 
 
 Come then, expressive Silence, muse HIS praise. 
 
 While none can withhold his sympathy from the enraptured poet, whose 
 theme rises even beyond his loftiest conceptions, so that, in despair of 
 making an adequate exhibition of it, he exclaims 
 
 " Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise," 
 
 I feel disposed, in reference also to the poet himself, in the production of 
 this incomparable Hymn, so just in its praises of the great Author of all 
 good, to make no further comments, but invoke expressive Silence to 
 u muse his praiso;' 
 
INDEI, 
 
 Spring. 
 
 Page 
 
 Influence of Spring on inanimate matter 46 
 
 Influence of Spring on vegetable matter 49 
 
 The Golden Age ; or man in a state of innocence 56 
 
 The Iron Age ; or man in a state of depravity 57 
 
 Changes consequent upon the Deluge 59 
 
 Censure upon the use of animal food 59 
 
 Trout-fishing 61 
 
 Noon-day recreations 63 
 
 The winding and watered vale 66 
 
 The flower-garden 67 
 
 Devout Address to the Great Source of Being 69 
 
 The love of the groves, and courtship of birds 72 
 
 Nest-building 74 
 
 Parental duties of birds 76 
 
 The barbarous bird-cage, and nest-robbery 77 
 
 The young birds taught to fly 78 
 
 Influence of Spring on domestic fowls, on brutes, and monsters of 
 
 the deep 79 
 
 Influence of Spring on man 83 
 
 The miseries of wild and irregular passion 89 
 
 The tortures of jealousy 92 
 
 The joys of virtuous and wedded love 93 
 
 Summer. 
 
 The subject proposed 103 
 
 Address to Mr. Doddington 105 
 
 The charms of early morn 106 
 
 The powerful King of Day 108 
 
 The eternal Cause, Support, and End of Creation 113 
 
 The summer forenoon 114 
 
 Summer insects 115 
 
 Nothing formed in vain, or without a wise purpose 117 
 
 Hay-making 118 
 
 Sheep- shearing 119 
 
834 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 JNoon-day .................................................. 122 
 
 A Woodland scene ........................................... 1 23 i 
 
 The romantic water-fall ............. < ........................ 127 1 
 
 The wonders of the Torrid Zone ............................... 129 j 
 
 Magnificent rivers ........................................... 139 
 
 The advantages of tropical climes overbalanced . by their peculiar 
 
 disadvantages ........................................... 142 
 
 The caravan of Mecca ........................................ 148 
 
 Disasters in tropical seas ..................................... 149 
 
 Pestilence at Carthagena The plague ......................... 151. 1 
 
 A tremendous storm in Britain ................................ 154 
 
 s Sad tale of Celadon and Amelia ............................... 15% 
 
 Damon and Musidora ........................................ 160 
 
 The soft hour for walking ..................................... 1 65 
 
 Complimentary address to Britain ............................. 169 
 
 Britain's distinguished sons ................................ .... 171 
 
 The saving virtues of a country ................................ 184 
 
 Sunset ..................................................... 185 
 
 Summer evening ............................................ 186 
 
 The night-scene Meteors and comets .......................... 187 
 
 Eulogium on Philosophy ...................................... 191 
 
 The subject proposed ........................................ 199 
 
 Fields ready for harvest ...................................... 202 
 
 The manifold blessings of industry, and the progress of society ..... 203 
 
 Reaping ................................................... 207 
 
 Lavinia and Palemon ........................................ 208 
 
 A harvest storm ............................................ 213 
 
 Shooting and hunting their barbarity .......................... 215 
 
 The fox-hunt ......................... ...................... 219 
 
 The frolicsome supper ........................................ 222 
 
 Employments suitable to the women of Britain .................. 224 
 
 The fruit orchard ............................................ 226 
 
 Doddington's country-seat .................................... 227 
 
 The vineyard .................................... ........... 228 
 
 Autumnal fogs, and origin of springs and rivers .................. 229 
 
 Migration of birds to warmer climates .......................... 234 
 
 View of Scotland from the north .............................. 236 
 
 An appeal to Scottish patriotism .............................. 239 
 
 The woods changing color and losing their foliage ................ 241 
 
 Philosophic melancholy its operations and effects ................ 244 
 
 Pitt and Lord Cobham ....................................... 245 
 
 Autumnal moonlight, and meteoric appearances ................. 247 
 
 The moonless night : the benighted traveller .................... 249 
 
INDEX. 335 
 
 Page 
 
 The invaded bee-hive ........................................ 251 
 
 The last day of Autumn ..................................... 252 
 
 The pure pleasures of rural life ................................ 253 
 
 The subject proposed ........................................ 267 
 
 Address to the Earl of Wilmington ............................ 269 
 
 " The first approach of Winter .......... ........................ 270 
 
 Cheerless rain-storm ......................................... 272 
 
 Winter tempests ............................................ 273 
 
 Snow mantles the earth : disturbs the comfort of animals .......... 277 
 
 The cottager perishing in a snow-storm ......................... 280 
 
 Reflections on human poverty and wretchedness ............... . . 282 
 
 Cruelties of a British prison in the eighteenth century ............ 283 
 
 Wolves descending from the Alps and Apennines ................ 284 
 
 The mighty dead of Greece ................................... 287 
 
 The great men of ancient Rome ............................... 293 
 
 Winter-evening studies and amusements ........................ 300 
 
 Winter evening in the city ................... ................. 302 
 
 The various operations and effects of frost ....................... 304 
 
 Sports on the ice and snow ................................... 309 
 
 Winter scenes in the Frigid Zone .............................. 310 
 
 The awful gfendeur of the polar regions ........................ 315 
 
 Peter the Great, of Russia ............................. ....... 319 
 
 Frost succeeded by a thaw .................................... 322 
 
 The Seasons, a picture of human life ........................... 323 
 
 HYMN ON THE SEASONS ........................................ 826 
 
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