AUTUMN-OCTOBER. 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 Till the strong gale have shook them to the ground; 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 Through tangling thickets headlong on they go, The hindmost still the growing panic spreads, 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? THE GRAVES ABOUT THE CHAPEL; SUNDAY TALK OF FARMERS; 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, Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro; She hears the unwelcome foot advancing nigh; THE JOYS OF WEDDED Love. Fair promised sunbeams of terrestrial bliss, To stay the tottering step, the features trace; 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, Far weightier cares and wider scenes expand; 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; O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride," 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; When the warm pack in faltering silence stood, DEATH AND EPITAPH OF TROUNCER. Pride of thy race! with worth far less than thine, And though high deeds, and fair exalted praise, 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; 1 Inscribed on a stone in Euston Park wall. Hours now in darkness veiled; yet loud the scream To meet the threats of Boreas undismayed, 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. Tusser's "October's Husbandry." ** Now lay up1 thy barley-land, dry as ye can, 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, |