POETICAL CALENDAR.

SEPTEMBER. AN ODE.

Arewell the pomp of Flora! vivid scene! Welcome fage Autumn, to invert the year Farewell to fummer's eye-delighting green!

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Her verdure fades-autumnal blafts are near. The filky wardrobe now is laid afide, With all the rich regalia of her pride.

And must we bid fweet Philomel adieu ?

She that was wont to charm us in the grove?

Muft Nature's livery wear a fadder hue,

And a dark canopy be ftretch'd above?
Yes-for September mounts his ebon-throne,
And the fmooth foliage of the plain is gone.

Libra, to weigh the harvest's pearly store,

The golden ballance poizes now on high, The calm ferenity of Zephyr o'er,

Sol's glittering legions to th' equator fly,

VOL. IX.

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At

At the fame hour he fhows his orient head,
And, warn'd by Thetis, finks in Ocean's bed.

Adieu! ye damask rofes, which remind

The maiden fair-one, how her charms decay; Ye rifing blafts, oh! leave fome mark behind, Some small memorial of the sweets of May: Ah! no -the ruthless season will not hear, Nor spare one glory of the ruddy year.

No more the wafte of mufic fung fo late

From every bush, green orchestre of love,
For now their winds the birds of passage wait,
And bid a laft farewell to every grove;
While thofe, whom fhepherd-fwains the fleepers call,
Chuse their recefs in fome fequefter'd wall.

Yet ftill fhall fage September boaft his pride,

Some birds fhall chant, some gayer flowers fhall
Nor is the season wholly unallied
[blow,
To purple bloom; the haler fruits shall grow,
The ftronger plants, fuch as enjoy the cold,
And wear a livelier grace by being old.

AN AUTUMNAL ODE

TO MR. HAYMAN.

Y

ET once more, glorious God of day,
While beams thine orb serene,
O let me warbling court thy ftay
To gild the fading scene!

Thy rays invigorate the Spring,

Bright Summer to perfection bring,

The cold inclemency of Winter cheer,
And make th' Autumnal months the mildeft of the

[year.

Ere yet the ruffet foliage fall

I'll climb the mountain's brow,

My friend, my Hayman, at thy call,
To view the scene below:

How sweetly pleasing to behold
Forefts of vegetable gold!

How mix'd the many chequer'd fhades between The tawny, mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green!

How splendid all the sky! how still!
How mild the dying gale!
How foft the whispers of the rill,
That winds along the vale!

So tranquil Nature's works appear,
It feems the fabbath of the year:

As if, the Summer's labour paft, she chose
This feafon's fober calm for blandifhing repofe.

Such is of well-spent life the time,
When bufy days are past;

Man, verging gradual from his prime,
Meets facred peace at last:

His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er,
And Summer's full-blown pride no more,

He gains pacific Autumn, mild and bland, [hand. And dauntless braves the ftroke of Winter's palfied

For yet a while, a little while,

Involv'd in wintry gloom,

And lo! another Spring fhall fmile,
A Spring eternal bloom:

Then fhall he fhine, a glorious guest,
In the bright manfions of the bleft,
Where due rewards on virtue are bestow'd, [fow'd.
And reap'd the golden fruits of what his Autumn

AU

A U TUM N. AN OD E.

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Las! with fwift and filent pace, Impatient Time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and Nature's face Now fweetly fmiles, now frowns fevere.

'Twas fpring, 'twas fummer, all was gay, Now autumn bends a cloudy brow, The flowers of .fpring are swept away,

And fummer's fruits defert the bough.

The verdant leaves that play'd on high,
And wanton'd in the weftern breeze,
Now trod in duft neglected lie,

As Boreas ftrips the bending trees.

The fields that wav'd with golden grain,
As ruffet heaths are wild and bare,
Not moift with dew, but drench'd in rain,
Nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there.

No more, while thro' the midnight shade,
Beneath the moon's pale orb I ftray,
Soft pleafing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay.

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