Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Autumnal Scene
AUTUMNAL SCENE.
TO a friend, in whose company the author had witnessed a fine autumnal evening exhibition of clouds, from the bridge on Connecticut River, at Hartford.
WHILE faded nature meekly bends,
To wear the robe that Autumn lends,
How sweet her varying scenes to trace,
Her changeful and retiring grace;
While from the bridge that arches high,
The alter'd landscape meets the eye!
The leafless trees, by winds distrest,
The shore, with lingering verdure drest,
The passing sails that slowly glide,
The river's deep, majestic tide,
Which rolling on, with gather'd force
From northern climes, in torrents hoarse,
Here spreads a mirror, smooth and free,
And seeks in haste the expecting sea.
And then that bold, aspiring tow'r,
Like chieftain rising in his pow'r,
Whose graceful form, and brow sublime,
O'erlooks the crowd, and smiles at time;
Where gleam the city's fair retreats,
Her thronging roofs, and busy streets,
Where wealth, with active labour meets;
Her distant groves, her lofty domes,
Her holy spires, and cottage homes.
And then, beyond, a distant scene
Of cultur'd vales, extending far,
All clad in Autumn's latest green,
And shelter'd from the storm of war.
And lo, upon the western sky,
What glowing scenes attract the eye,
Where wildly spreads in bright array
The pageantry of closing day;
Whose azure eye with frequent glance
Looks gaily through the wide expanse,
To greet the clouds that throng to pay
Their homage to her gentle sway.
For though no sounding herald calls
To warn them from their airy halls,
Yet still they summon all their pow'r.
To cheer and gild the festive hour.
Some rob'd in white with snowy breast,
Look from the windows of the west,
And some, to join the mystic dance,
With fair and glowing brow, advance;
Float sparkling on, retire, or roam,
Like trembling lamp on Ocean's foam;
While mingling in their sportive race,
And flitting light from place to place.
A glittering train the eye may trace,
Like champions gay, with crimson vest,
And golden helm, and saffron crest,
Who lift the lance with gesture light,
And hasten to the bloodless fight.
Then rise a few, in purple robe,
Like kings to rule this rolling globe,
In solemn state, with massy shield,
And sceptre all in shades conceal'd:
But close involv'd in deeper gloom,
And thick'ning, gathering, as they come,
A sable train with aspect dread,
Like warring hosts with muffled tread
Approach, and cast with angry sweep,
Their fearful shadow o'er the deep.
Beneath their frown, these glories fade,
And all the scene is wrapt in shade,
For aged night, with envious eye,
Beheld the joyous revelry,
And sent that veil'd and hostile train,
To shroud it with the hue of pain.
But gleaming o'er the mountain's breast,
Just where its summit meets the west,
A little spot of light is seen,
All fair, and tranquil, and serene;
So pure, that no rude cloud may dare
To cast its slightest image there:
So bright, as if its veil unfurl'd
The entrance to a better world.
From thence, the sun, releas'd from toil,
Has shed his soft, departing smile,
And glittering through a dewy tear,
Fled gladly to another sphere.
Perchance, this scene with beauty fraught,
Was shewn to wake sublimer thought;
Perchance, was spread this evening sky,
To lure the fix'd, enraptur'd eye,
To trace upon its varying roll,
An emblem of the virtuous soul,
Who toiling on, through blasts of strife,
And shades of woe, and storms of life,
Perceives a mansion, pure and blest,
A cloudless sky, a cell of rest,
And pressing on, where sorrows cease,
Thus sheds the parting beam of peace.
And quick, my trembling measure takes
The wish this glowing scene awakes,
Not that which decks the polish'd line,
Where art and melody combine,
But from a heart where feeling sighs,
And grateful memory lifts her eyes,
That warm and ardent wish will rise,
That such a cell of peace divine,
And such a rest in Heaven be thine.