AFTER A TEMPEST.

THE day had been a day of wind and storm ;—
The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,—
And stooping from the zenith bright and warm
Shone the great sun on the wide earth at last.
I stood upon the upland slope, and cast

My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene,
Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast,
And hills o'er hills lifted their heads of green,

With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between.

The rain-drops glistened on the trees around,
Whose shadows on the tall grass were not stirred,
Save when a shower of diamonds, to the ground,
Was shaken by the flight of startled bird;

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
Flew many a glittering insect here and there,
And darted up and down the butterfly,

That seemed a living blossom of the air.

The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where
The violent rain had pent them; in the way
Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair;
The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play.

It was a scene of peace-and, like a spell,
Did that serene and golden sunlight fall
Upon the motionless wood that clothed the fell,
And precipice upspringing like a wall,

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
An emblem of the peace that yet shall be,
When o'er earth's continents, and isles between,
The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea,
And married nations dwell in harmony;
When millions, crouching in the dust to one,
No more shall beg their lives on bended knee,

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,
-The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers
And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last

The storm, and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past.
Lo, the clouds roll away-they break-they fly,
And, like the glorious light of summer; cast

O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie.

AUTUMN WOODS.

ERE, in the northern gale,

The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of Autumn, all around our vale,

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,
Where the gay company of trees look down
On the green fields below.

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.

And far in heaven, the while,

The sun, that sends that gale to wander here,

Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,—
The sweetest of the year.

Where now the solemn shade,

Verdure and gloom where many branches meet;
So grateful, when the noon of summer made
The valleys sick with heat?

Let in through all the trees

Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright? Their sunny-coloured foliage, in the breeze,

Twinkles, like beams of light.

The rivulet, late unseen,

Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run, Shines with the image of its golden screen,

And glimmerings of the sun.

But 'neath yon crimson tree,

Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,

Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,

Her blush of maiden shame.

Oh, Autumn! why so soon

Depart the hues that make thy forests glad;
Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon,
And leave thee wild and sad!