1

AUTUMN

Look in thy heart and write.

15

Another writes because his father writ,
And proves himself a bastard by his wit.
YOUNG-Epistles to Mr. Pope. Ep. I. L. 75.

11 An author! 'tis a venerable name!
How few deserve it, and what numbers claim!
Unbless'd with sense above their peers refined,
Who shall stand up dictators to mankind?
Nay, who dare shine, if not in virtue's cause?
That sole proprietor of just applause.

YOUNG-Epistles to Mr. Pope. Ep. II. From Oxford. L. 15.

woods,

And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM-Day and Night Songs.
Autumnal Sonnet.

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;

The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket;-lynx-like is his aim;

Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants!

And ah, ye poachers!-'Tis no sport for peasants. BYRON-Don Juan. Canto XIII. St. 75.

23

Yellow, mellow, ripened days,

Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze,

White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees,

And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease,

Of the southward flying swallow.