AUTUMN.

ARGUMENT.

Acorns. Hogs in the wood. Wheat-sowing. The church. Village girls. The mad girl. The bird-boy's hut. Disappointments; reflections, &c. Euston-hall. Fox-hunting. Old Trouncer. Long nights. A welcome to Winter.

SUBJECT; SCENES OF AUTUMN.-SWINEHERD; HUNTSMAN.

AGAIN, the year's decline, midst storms and floods The thundering chase, the yellow fading woods, Invites my song; that fain would boldly tell Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell, By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn, The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn. NEW-FALLEN MAST; SOW AND PIGS FEEDING ON ACORNS.

No more the fields with scattered grain supply
The restless wandering tenants of the sty;
From oak to oak they run with eager haste,
And, wrangling, share the first delicious taste
Of fallen acorns; yet but thinly found,

Till the strong gale have shook them to the ground;
It comes; and roaring woods obedient wave:
Their home well pleased the joint adventurers
leave :

The trudging sow leads forth her numerous young, Playful, and white, and clean, the briers among, Till briers and thorns, increasing, fence them round, Where last year's mouldering leaves bestrew the ground;

And o'er their heads, loud lashed by furious squalls, Bright from their cups the rattling treasure falls.

THE POOL; THE HAUNT OF THE WILD DUCK; LUDICROUS FRIGHT OF THE LITTLE PIGS.

Hot thirsty food! whence doubly sweet and cool
The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool,
The wild duck's lonely haunt, whose jealous eye
Guards every point; who sits prepared to fly,
On the calm bosom of her little lake,
Too closely screened for ruffian winds to shake;
And as the bold intruders press around,
At once she starts and rises with a bound:
With bristles raised the sudden noise they hear,
And, ludicrously wild, and winged with fear,
The herd decamp with more than swinish speed,
And snorting dash through sedge, and rush, and
reed;

Through tangling thickets headlong on they go,
Then stop and listen for their fancied foe;

The hindmost still the growing panic spreads,
Repeated fright the first alarm succeeds,
Till folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap:
Yet glorying in their fortunate escape,
Their groundless terrors by degrees soon cease,
And night's dark reign restores their wonted peace.

THE HOG'S NEST AT NIGHT; THE PHEASANT; GILES'S VAIN SEARCH FOR THE SWINE.

For now the gale subsides, and from each bough The roosting pheasant's short but frequent crow Invites to rest; and huddling side by side The herd in closest ambush seek to hide ; Seek some warm slope with shagged moss o'erspread, Dried leaves their copious covering and their bed. In vain may Giles, through gathering glooms that And solemn silence, urge his piercing call; [fall, Whole days and nights they tarry midst their store, Nor quit the woods till oaks can yield no more.

WINTER-WHEAT; HOW TO PROTECT IT WHEN SOWN IN AUTUMN.

Beyond bleak Winter's rage, beyond the Spring That rolling earth's unvarying course will bring, Who tills the ground, looks on with mental eye, And sees next Summer's sheaves and cloudless sky; And even now, whilst Nature's beauty dies, Deposits seed, and bids new harvests rise; Seed well prepared, and warmed with glowing lime, 'Gainst earth-bred grubs, and cold, and lapse of time:

For searching frosts and various ills invade, Whilst wintry months depress the springing blade.

AUTUMN PLOUGHING; MANURE PLOUGHED IN; GILES'S LABORS IN THE BARN-YARD. — SABBATH BELLS.

The plough moves heavily, and strong the soil, And clogging harrows with augmented toil Dive deep; and clinging, mixes with the mould A fattening treasure from the nightly fold, And all the cow-yard's highly valued store, That late bestrewed the blackened surface o'er. No idling hours are here, when fancy trims Her dancing taper over outstretched limbs, And in her thousand thousand colors drest, Plays round the grassy couch of noontide rest: Here Giles for hours of indolence atones With strong exertion, and with weary bones, And knows no leisure; till the distant chime Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon time, That down the brook sound sweetly in the gale, Or strike the rising hill, or skim the dale.

THE PARSON'S HORSE; THE RUDE CHAPEL; DAWS. Nor his alone the sweets of ease to taste : Kind rest extends to all; - save one poor beast, That, true to time and pace, is doomed to plod, To bring the pastor to the house of God: Mean structure; where no bones of heroes lie! The rude inelegance of poverty

Reigns here alone: else why that roof of straw?

Those narrow windows with the frequent flaw?
O'er whose low cells the dock and mallow spread,
And rampant nettles lift the spiry head,
Whilst from the hollows of the tower on high
The gray-capped daws in saucy legions fly.

THE GRAVES ABOUT THE CHAPEL; SUNDAY TALK OF FARMERS;
BOYS' SPORTS IN THE GRAVE-YARD.

Round these lone walls assembling neighbors meet, And tread departed friends beneath their feet; And new-briered graves, that prompt the secret sigh, Show each the spot where he himself must lie. Midst timely greetings village news goes round, Of crops late shorn, or crops that deck the ground; Experienced ploughmen in the circle join; While sturdy boys, in feats of strength to shine, With pride elate, their young associates brave To jump from hollow-sounding grave to grave; Then close consulting, each his talent lends To plan fresh sports when tedious service ends.

THE VILLAGE MAIDS; THEIR ERRAND AT CHURCH. Hither at times, with cheerfulness of soul, Sweet village maids from neighboring hamlets stroll, That, like the light-heeled does o'er lawns that rove, Look shyly curious; ripening into love; For love's their errand hence the tints that glow On either cheek an heightened lustre know : When, conscious of their charms, e'en Age looks sly; And rapture beams from Youth's observant eye. STORY OF CRAZED POLLY RAYNOR; HER DRESS, WHIMS, MISERY, WILDNESS, AND PITEOUS INSANITY.

The pride of such a party, Nature's pride, Was lovely Poll ; who innocently tried, With hat of airy shape and ribbons gay, Love to inspire, and stand in Hymen's way: But ere her twentieth summer could expand, Or youth was rendered happy with her hand, Her mind's serenity was lost and gone, Her eye grew languid, and she wept alone; Yet causeless seemed her grief; for quick restrained, Mirth followed loud, or indignation reigned: Whims wild and simple led her from her home, The heath, the common, or the fields, to roam : Terror and joy alternate ruled her hours; Now blithe she sung, and gathered useless flowers; Now plucked a tender twig from every bough, To whip the hovering demons from her brow. Ill-fated maid! thy guiding spark is fled, And lasting wretchedness awaits thy bed Thy bed of straw! for mark, where even now O'er their lost child afflicted parents bow; Their woe she knows not, but, perversely coy, Inverted customs yield her sullen joy. Her midnight meals in secrecy she takes, Low muttering to the moon, that rising breaks Through night's dark gloom :-0, how much more forlorn

Her night, that knows of no returning dawn! —

1 Mary Raynor, of Ixworth Thorp, or Village.

Slow from the threshold, once her infant seat,
O'er the cold earth she crawls to her retreat;
Quitting the cot's warm walls unhoused to lie,
Or share the swine's impure and narrow sty;
The damp night air her shivering limbs assails;
In dreams she moans, and fancied wrongs bewails.
When morning wakes, none earlier roused than she,
When pendent drops fall glittering from the tree,
But naught her rayless melancholy cheers,
Or soothes her breast, or stops her streaming tears.
Her matted locks unornamented flow;

Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro;
Her head bowed down, her faded cheeks to hide ;-
A piteous mourner by the pathway side.
Some tufted molehill through the livelong day
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away:
And oft the gayly passing stranger stays
His well-timed step, and takes a silent gaze,
Till sympathetic drops unbidden start,
And pangs quick springing muster round his heart;
And soft he treads with other gazers round,
And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound.
One word alone is all that strikes the ear,
One short, pathetic, simple word, "O dear!"
A thousand times repeated to the wind,
That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind!
Forever of the proffered parley shy,

She hears the unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,
Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight.

THE JOYS OF WEDDED Love.

Fair promised sunbeams of terrestrial bliss,
Health's gallant hopes, and are ye sunk to this?
For in life's road though thorns abundant grow,
There still are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear beside their tranquil home
The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come :
That love matured, next playful on the knee
To press the velvet lip of infancy;

To stay the tottering step, the features trace;
Inestimable sweets of social peace!

PRAYER FOR PEACE OF MIND AND WARMTH OF HEART.

O Thou, who bidst the vernal juices rise! Thou, on whose blasts autumnal foliage flies! Let peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold, Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold.

CARE OF THE LATE-HATCHED CHICKENS, ETC.

Shorn of their flowers that shed the untreasured seed,

The withering pasture, and the fading mead, Less tempting grown, diminish more and more, The dairy's pride; sweet Summer's flowing store. New cares succeed, and gentle duties press, Where the fireside, a school of tenderness, Revives the languid chirp, and warms the blood

Of cold-nipped weaklings of the latter brood,
That, from the shell just bursting into day,
Through yard or pond pursue their venturous way.
THE BIRD-BOY'S WATCH.

Far weightier cares and wider scenes expand;
What devastation marks the new-sown land!
'From hungry woodland foes, go, Giles, and guard
The rising wheat; insure its great reward:
A future sustenance, a Summer's pride,
Demand thy vigilance: then be it tried ;
Exert thy voice, and wield thy shotless gun :
Go, tarry there from morn till setting sun.'

GILES BUILDS A HUT OF STRAW AND TURF, LIKE CRUSOE, FOR SHELTER.

Keen blows the blast, or ceaseless rain descends ; The half-stripped hedge a sorry shelter lends. O for a hovel, e'er so small or low, Whose roof, repelling winds and early snow, Might bring home's comforts fresh before his eyes! No sooner thought, than see the structure rise, In some sequestered nook, embanked around, Sods for its walls, and straw in burdens bound : Dried fuel hoarded is his richest store, And circling smoke obscures his little door; Whence creeping forth, to duty's call he yields, And strolls the Crusoe of the lonely fields.

HIS HOSPITABLE FEAST OF HAWS AND SLOES; DISAPPOINTED OF HIS BOY-GUESTS.—SOLITUDE AND LIBERTY.

On whitethorns towering, and the leafless rose, A frost-nipped feast in bright vermilion glows: Where clustering sloes in glossy order rise, He crops the loaded branch; a cumbrous prize; And o'er the flame the sputtering fruit he rests, Placing green sods to seat his coming guests; His guests by promise; playmates young and gay: But, ah! fresh pastimes lure their steps away! He sweeps his hearth, and homeward looks in vain, Till, feeling disappointment's cruel pain, His fairy revels are exchanged for rage, His banquet marred, grown dull his hermitage. The field becomes his prison, till on high Benighted birds to shades and coverts fly. Midst air, health, daylight, can he prisoner be? If fields are prisons, where is liberty? Here still she dwells, and here her votaries stroll;

HOPE DEFERRED; THE PRISONER; HOWARD.

But disappointed hope untunes the soul: Restraints unfelt whilst hours of rapture flow, When troubles press, to chains and barriers grow. Look, then, from trivial up to greater woes; From the poor bird-boy with his roasted sloes, To where the dungeoned mourner heaves the sigh; Where not one cheering sunbeam meets his eye. Though ineffectual pity thine may be, No wealth, no power, to set the captive free; Though only to thy ravished sight is given The golden path that Howard trod to heaven;

Thy slights can make the wretched more forlorn, And deeper drive affliction's barbéd thorn.

VISIT THE PRISONER, AND DISAPPOINT HIM NOT. Say not, I'll come and cheer thy gloomy cell With news of dearest friends; how good, how well : I'll be a joyful herald to thine heart :' Then fail, and play the worthless trifler's part, To sip flat pleasures from thy glass's brim, And waste the precious hour that's due to him! In mercy spare the base, unmanly blow: Where can he turn, to whom complain of you? Back to past joys in vain his thoughts may stray, Trace and retrace the beaten, worn-out way, The rankling injury will pierce his breast, And curses on thee break his midnight rest.

THE AUTUMN MUSIC OF THE CHASE; EUSTON; FITZROY; HOUND AND HORN.

Bereft of song, and ever cheering green, The soft endearments of the Summer scene, New harmony pervades the solemn wood, Dear to the soul, and healthful to the blood: For bold exertion follows on the sound

Of distant sportsmen, and the chiding hound;
First heard from kennel bursting, mad with joy,
Where smiling Euston boasts her good Fitzroy,
Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend;
The farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend;
Whose mansion glittering with the eastern ray,
Whose elevated temple points the way,

O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride,"
To where the victims of the chase reside,
Ingulfed in earth, in conscious safety warm,
Till, lo! a plot portends their coming harm.

THE FOX-HUNT; THE FOX BLOCKED OUT; STARTED FROM COVER; THE VIEW-HALLOO.

In earliest hours of dark, unhooded morn, Ere yet one rosy cloud bespeaks the dawn, Whilst far abroad the fox pursues his prey, He's doomed to risk the perils of the day, From his strong hold blocked out; perhaps to bleed, Or owe his life to fortune or to speed. For now the pack, impatient rushing on, Range through the darkest coverts one by one; Trace every spot; whilst down each noble glade, That guides the eye beneath a changeful shade, The loitering sportsman feels the instinctive flame, And checks his steed to mark the springing game. Midst intersecting cuts and winding ways The huntsman cheers his dogs, and anxious strays Where every narrow riding, even shorn, Gives back the echo of his mellow horn: Till fresh and lightsome, every power untried, The starting fugitive leaps by his side, His lifted finger to his ear he plies, And the View-halloo bids a chorus rise

Of dogs quick-mouthed and shouts that mingle loud, As bursting thunder rolls from cloud to cloud.

THE HORSE IN THE CHASE; THE VILLAGERS TURN OUT. With ears erect, and chest of vigorous mould, O'er ditch, o'er fence, unconquerably bold, The shining courser lengthens every bound, And his strong foot-locks suck the moistened ground, As from the confines of the wood they pour, And joyous villages partake the roar. O'er heath far stretched, or down, or valley low, The stiff-limbed peasant, glorying in the show, Pursues in vain; where youth itself soon tires, Spite of the transports that the chase inspires; For who unmounted long can charm the eye, Or hear the music of the leading cry?

THE FOX-HOUND TROUNCER; HIS EXPLOITS.

Poor faithful Trouncer! thou canst lead no more;
All thy fatigues and all thy triumphs o'er!
Triumphs of worth, whose honorary fame
Was still to follow true the hunted game;
Beneath enormous oaks, Britannia's boast,
In thick, impenetrable coverts lost,

When the warm pack in faltering silence stood,
Thine was the note that roused the listening wood,
Rekindling every joy with ten-fold force,
Through all the mazes of the tainted course.
Still foremost thou the dashing stream to cross,
And tempt along the animated horse;
Foremost o'er fen or level mead to pass,
And sweep the showering dew-drops from the grass;
Then bright emerging from the mist below
To climb the woodland hill's exulting brow.

DEATH AND EPITAPH OF TROUNCER.

Pride of thy race! with worth far less than thine,
Full many human leaders daily shine!
Less faith, less constancy, less generous zeal! —
Then no disgrace mine humble verse shall feel,
Where not one lying line to riches bows,
Or poisoned sentiment from rancor flows;
Nor flowers are strewn around Ambition's car :-
An honest dog's a nobler theme by far.
Each sportsman heard the tidings with a sigh,
When death's cold touch had stopped his tuneful
cry;

And though high deeds, and fair exalted praise,
In memory lived, and flowed in rustic lays,
Short was the strain of monumental woe:
Foxes, rejoice! here buried lies your foe.'1

THE EARLY CROW OF THE COCK; THE GEESE; SHORT DAYS AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER.

In safety housed throughout night's lengthening reign,

The cock sends forth a loud and piercing strain;
More frequent, as the glooms of midnight flee,
And hours roll round, that brought him liberty,
When Summer's early dawn, mild, clear, and bright,
Chased quick away the transitory night :

1 Inscribed on a stone in Euston Park wall.

Hours now in darkness veiled; yet loud the scream
Of geese impatient for the playful stream;
And all the feathered tribe imprisoned raise
Their morning notes of inharmonious praise;
And many a clamorous hen and cockerel gay,
When daylight slowly through the fog breaks way,
Fly wantonly abroad: but, ah, how soon
The shades of twilight follow hazy noon,
Shortening the busy day!-day that slides by
Amidst the unfinished toils of husbandry;
Toils still each morn resumed with double care,
To meet the icy terrors of the year,

To meet the threats of Boreas undismayed,
And Winter's gathering frowns and hoary head.

WELCOME TO WINTER; HOPE FOR THE POOR.

Then welcome, cold; welcome, ye snowy nights! Heaven, midst your rage, shall mingle pure delights, And confidence of hope the soul sustain, While devastation sweeps along the plain : Nor shall the child of poverty despair,

But bless the Power that rules the changing year; Assured, though horrors round his cottage reign, — That Spring will come, and Nature smile again.

**

Now lay up1 thy barley-land, dry as ye can,
Get daily beforehand, be never behind. * *
Green rye in September, when timely thou hast,
October for wheat-sowing calleth as fast:
If weather will suffer, this counsel I give,
Leave sowing of wheat, before Hallowmas eve.2 * *
Yet where, how and when ye intend to begin,
Let ever the finest be first sowen in.
Who soweth in rain, he shall reap it with tears;
Who soweth in harms, he is ever in fears;
Who soweth ill seed, or defraudeth his land,
Hath eyesore abroad, with a corrie at hand. * *
Seed husbandly sowen, water-furrow thy ground,
That rain, when it cometh, may run away round. **
As land full of tilth, and in hearty good plight,
Yields blade to a length, and increaseth in might;
So crop upon crop, on whose courage we doubt,
Yields blade for a brag, but it holdeth not out.
The straw and the ear to have bigness and length
Betokeneth land to be good and in strength. **
White wheat or else red, red rivet or white,
Far passeth all other, for land that is light;
White pollard or red, that so richly is set,
For land that is heavy, is best ye can get.
Main wheat, that is mixed with white and with red,
Is next to the best, in the market-man's head:
To Turkey or Purkey wheat many do love,
Because it is floury, as others above.
Gray wheat is the grossest, yet good for the clay,
Though worst for the market, as farmer will say;
Much like unto rye, be his properties found,
Coarse flour, much bran, and a peeler3 of ground.
Oats, rye, or else barley, and wheat that is gray,
Brings land out of comfort, and soon to decay.

1 To lay up' is to cover the ridge baulk by two opposite furrows, to shed water.

2 Wheat is sown in England from mid-August to midDecember, but chiefly in October; the compiler has sown winter-wheat in northern Illinois as late as Nov. 13. — J. * To 'peel' is to spend or exhaust.

One after another, no comfort between,
Is crop upon crop, as will quickly be seen.
Still crop upon crop many farmers do take,
And reap little profit, for greediness' sake. [stand,
Though bread-corn and drink-corn,1 such croppers do
Count peason or brank,2 as a comfort to land. **
Some useth at first a good fallow to make,3
To sow thereon barley, the better to take
Next that to sow peas, and of that to sow wheat,
Then fallow again, or lie lay for thy neat.4
When barley ye sow, after rye or else wheat,
If land be unlusty, the crop is not great. **
Where rye, or else wheat, either barley, ye sow,
Let codware be next, thereupon for to grow.
Two crops of a fallow enricheth the plough;
Though t' one be of peas, it is land good enough.
One crop and a fallow some soil will abide,
When, if ye go further, lay profit aside. * *
Good bread-corn and drink-corn full twenty weeks
Is better than new, that at harvest is reapt; [kept
But foisty the bread-corn, and bowd-eaten7 malt,
For health or for profit, find noisome thou shalt.
By the end of October go gather up sloes,
Have thou in a readiness plenty of those;
And keep them in bed-straw, or still on the bough,
To stay both the flix,8 of thyself and the cow.
Seeth water and plump therein plenty of sloes;
Mix chalk that is dried, in powder with those ;
Which so, if ye give, with the water and chalk,
Thou makest the lax from thy cow away walk.
Be suer of vergis9 (a gallon at least),
So good for the kitchen, so needful for beast:
It helpeth thy cattle, so feeble and faint,
If timely such cattle with it thou acquaint.