A Farewell to Summer. an Elegy

Adieu fair spring! adorn'd with chaplets gay, Ye fields and vernal landscapes all adieu, Bright summer and the long transparent day, No more I hail the scented groves and you.

Farewell the walk where crystal rivulets glide, Where slender osiers waft the healthful gale, Where insects float along the silver tide, And silent rapture haunts the fruitful vale.

Where purple lawns salubrious odours spread, Where heath-shrubs blossom wild with languid dye, Where round the hedge unbought perfumes are shed, And native beauty courts the roving eye.

Where hawthorns bud, and velvet cowslips grow, Where verdant banks put forth the painted weed, Whose vivid hues eclipse th' embroider'd beau, And the proud flaunters of the Park exceed.

Where Solitude unfolds her matchless charms, And meek Content assumes her happy reign, Where jocund Plenty crowns the rising farms, And fills the storehouse of the village-swain.

How fresh past pleasures dance before the mind, Renew'd in thought by winter's coming train, That now, like vapours on the broad-wing'd wind, Haste to deface the beauty of the plain.

I see, with memory's retrospective eye, Each rivulet's polish'd current smoothly flow, See blithsome May hang pearly blossoms high, And richly dress the flowery meads below.

See nodding orchards wave their plumy pride, See gardens grac'd with all the tints of spring, Enamell'd beds their tender foliage hide, 'Till genial suns a warmer season bring.

What scenes can equal summer's bright display, When swift Aurora drives her early car, When glowing Phoebus gives the blushing day, And sends his boundless influence wide and far.

How sweet to see the flocks that crop their food, And skip in wanton sport around the field, Glad to present their bleating gratitude, For the green pasture that the meadows yield.

To hear the wakeful shepherd's homely strain, Breathe welcome sonnets to the rosy beam, While slumbering towns in leaden sleep remain, And lose substantial pleasures for a dream.

To tread betimes the neighbouring lanes, and view (Ere scorching heat rides on the noon-tide air) The grass, the trees, the vallies rob'd in dew, And garden plants the liquid garment wear.

There oft at morn I tun'd the rural lay, And with my Sylvia gently stray'd along, The birds sat mute on every leafy spray, While listening echo catch'd the flowing song.

There silent mus'd on Shakespear's tragic page, Of Milton learn'd to scale the azure road, Chanted Maeonides' poetic rage, And read, O Pope! thy equal thoughts of God.

Admir'd great Thomson's active skilful muse, That in such easy numbers scans the globe, Such lively colours Albion's spring renews, And paints the beauties of her vernal robe.

There, when the lark began her warbling song, And shook her pinions for the morning flight, Rais'd the loud chorus of the feather'd throng, And tower'd beyond the farthest reach of sight.

The tuneful black-bird whistling to his mate, Far o'er the lonely forest thrill'd the note, And cheerful linnets in the woods, elate, Rejoin'd the melting music of his throat.

Our praise reap'd fervor from the general glow, The pious airs inspir'd the heavenly flame, The thrush's plaint, the cattle's meaning low, With grateful joy our swelling hearts o'ercame.

Nor less at eve the rural mansions please, Or rural virtues charm th' exalted soul, Whose powers not yet enervated by ease, Like Newton, grasp creation's ample whole;

In search of learning's gifts unwearied roam, Th' illumin'd spaces of the milky way, Traverse th' infinitude of nature's dome, The earth, its snow-top'd mountains, and the sea;

In every part discover wisdom's hand, Find Deity inscrib'd on all around, Omnipotence and love from strand to strand, Far as th' encircling ocean's utmost bound.

For such, O spring! thy fragrant breezes blow, Thy new-born flowers expand the crimson leaf; Thy rays, O summer! golden prospects show, And tinge the grain of Ceres' pointed sheaf.

For such, mild autumn rears the shooting vines, Bids juicy clusters swarm the shaded wall, Enriching crops o'erhang her wheaten mines, And ripen'd fruits from bending branches fall.

To such, even winter's jarring winds convey, The gladsome tidings of eternal peace: And storms, and clouds, that others bliss allay Their hope, their strength, their fortitude increase.