And o'er the mould that covered her, the tribe Built up a simple monument, a cone Of small loose stones. Thenceforward all who passed, In silence on the pile. It stands there yet. AFTER A TEMPEST. THE day had been a day of wind and storm ;- Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast, With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between. The rain-drops glistened on the trees around, ; For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard About the flowers; the cheerful rivulet sung And gossiped, as he hastened ocean-ward; To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung, And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung. And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry That seemed a living blossom of the air. The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where It was a scene of peace—and, like a spell, And glassy river and white waterfall, And happy living things that trod the bright And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all, On many a lovely valley, out of sight, Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene When millions, crouching in the dust to one, K Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done. Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast, O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky, AUTUMN WOODS. ERE, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, Have put their glory on. The mountains that infold, In their wide sweep, the coloured landscape round, Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, That guard the enchanted ground. I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, My steps are not alone In these bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play, Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown Along the winding way. |