Autumn is come; seest thou not in the skies,
The stormy light of his fierce, lurid eyes?
Autumn is come; his brazen feet have trod,
Withering and scorching, o'er the mossy sod.
The fainting year sees her fresh flowery wreath
Shrivel in his hot grasp; his burning breath,
Dries the sweet water-springs that in the shade
Wandering along, delicious music made.
A flood of glory hangs upon the world,

Summer's bright wings shining ere they are furl'd.

MRS. BUTLER.

ON A TEAR.

OH! that the chemist's magic art
Could crystallise this sacred treasure!
Long should it glitter near my heart,
A secret source of pensive pleasure.

The little brilliant, ere it fell,
Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye;
Then, trembling, left its coral cell-
The spring of sensibility!

Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!
In thee the rays of virtue shine;
More calmly clear, more mildly bright,
Than any gem that gilds the mine.

Benign restorer of the soul;

Who ever fly'st to bring relief,

When first we feel the rude controul

Of love or pity, joy or grief.

The sage's and the poet's theme,
In every clime, in every age;
Thou charm'st in fancy's idle dream,
In reason's philosophic page.

That very law which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their course.

ROGERS.

EVERY-DAY BEAUTIES OF NATURE.

YES, and not otherwise, if we indeed

And with pure hearts are seeking what is fair In nature, then, believe, we shall not need

Long anxious quests, exploring earth and air, Ere we shall find wherewith our hearts to feed: The beauty which is scatter'd everywhere Will in our souls such deep contentment breed, We shall not pine for aught remote or rare. We shall not ask from some transcendant height To gaze on such rare scenes2, as may surpass Earth's common shows, ere we will own delight: While sunshine lies upon our English grass, And dewdrops glitter on green fields at home.

The law of gravitation.

2" Needs no show of mountain hoary,
Winding shore or deepening glen
Where the landscape in its glory

Teaches truth to wandering men ;
Give true hearts but earth and sky,
And some flowers to bloom and die,
Homely scenes and simple views
Lowly thoughts may best infuse."

TRENCH.

KEBLE.

THE BANYAN TREE.

"TWAS a fair scene wherein they stood,
A green and sunny glade amid the wood,
And in the midst an aged Banyan grew.
It was a goodly sight to see
That venerable tree;

For o'er the lawn, irregularly spread,
Fifty straight columns propt its lofty head,
And many a long depending shoot
Seeking to strike its root,

Straight, like a plummet, grew towards the ground.
Some on the lower boughs, which crost their way,
Fixing their bearded fibres, round and round
With many a ring and wild contortion wound;
Some to the passing winds, at times, with sway
Of gentle motion swung;

Others of younger growth, unmov'd, were hung, Like stone-drops from the cavern's fretted height. Beneath were smooth and fair to sight;

Nor weeds nor briars deform'd the natural floor; And through the leafy cope which bower'd it o'er Came gleams of chequer'd light.

So like a temple did it seem, that there

A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer.

SOUTHEY.

THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY.

LORD of all being! where can fancy fly,
To what far realms, unmeasur'd by Thine eye?
Where can we hide beneath thy blazing sun,

Where dwell'st Thou not, the boundless, viewless

One?

Shall Guilt couch down within the cavern's gloom, And quiv'ring, groaning, meditate her doom? Or scale the mountains, where the whirlwinds rest, And in the night-blast cool her fiery breast? Within the cavern-gloom Thine eye can see, The sky-clad mountains lift their heads to Thee! Thy Spirit rides upon the thunder-storms Dark'ning the skies into terrific forms! Beams in the light'ning, rocks upon the seas, Roars in the blast, and whispers in the breeze; In calm and storm, in heaven and earth Thou art, Trace but Thy works - they bring Thee to the heart!

The fulness of Thy presence who can see, Man cannot live, great God! and look on Thee; Around Thy form eternal light'nings glow, Thy voice appals the shudd'ring world below. Oh! Egypt felt Thee when, by signs unscar'd, To mock Thy might the rebel monarch dared; Thou look'st · and ocean sever'd at the glance! Undaunted, still the charioteers advance;

Thou look'dst again she clash'd her howling

waves,

And roar'd in stormy triumph o'er their graves!
On Sinai's mountain, when Thy glory came
In rolls of thunder, and in clouds of flame;
There, while volcanic smoke Thy throne o'ercast,
And the mount shrunk beneath the trumpet blast,
How did Thy presence smite all Israel's eye!
How dreadful were the gleams of Deity!
There is a voiceless eloquence in earth,
Telling of Him who gave her wonders birth;
And long may I remain the adoring child
Of nature's majesty, sublime or wild;

Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea,
All take their terrors and their charms from Thee,
From Thee, whose hidden but supreme control
Moves through the world, a universal soul.

But who could trace Thine unrestricted course, Though Fancy follow'd with immortal force! There's not a blossom fondled by the breeze, There's not a fruit that beautifies the trees, There's not a particle in sea or air,

But Nature owns thy plastic influence there!
With fearful gaze, still be it mine to see
How all is fill'd and verified by Thee;
Upon Thy mirror, earth's majestic view,
To paint Thy Presence, and to feel it too.

R. MONTGOMERY.

THE TRADESMAN A NATURALIST.

OFT have I smil'd the happy pride to see
Of humble tradesmen, in their evening glee;
When, of some pleasing, fancied good possess'd,
Each grew alert, was busy, and was bless'd;
Whether the call-bird yield the hour's delight,
Or, magnified in microscope, the mite ;
Or whether tumblers, croppers, carriers1 seize
The gentle mind, they rule it as they please.

There is my friend the weaver; strong desires
Reign in his breast; 'tis beauty he admires;
See! to the shady grove he wings his way,
And feels in hope the raptures of the day -
Eager he looks; and soon, to glad his eyes,
From the sweet bower, by nature form'd, arise
Bright troops of virgin moths and fresh born
butterflies,

1 The various varieties of the pigeon.