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, For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard. To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung, And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung. AFTER A TEMPEST. 109 And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry Flew many a glittering insect here and there, 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, Did that serene and golden sunlight fall 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 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, AUTUMN WOODS. 111 AUTUMN WOODS. ERE, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, The mountains that infold, In their wide sweep, the coloured landscape round, I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, On the green fields below. My steps are not alone In these bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play, 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,— Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom where many branches meet; 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; |