its maturity of luxurious loveliness, an excursion into the country:

"There, the loaded fruit trees bending,

Strew with mellow gold the land;

Here, on high, from vines impending,

Purple clusters court the hand."

Autumn now throws her many tinted robe over our land-
scape, unequalled by the richest drapery which nature's
wardrobe can furnish in any part of the world. We read
of Italian skies and tropical evergreens, and often long to
visit those regions where the birds have "no sorrow in their
song, no winter in their year." But where can we find
such an assemblage of beauties as is displayed, at this mo-
ment, in the groves and forests of our native state? Europe
and Asia may be explored in vain. To them has prodigal
nature given springs like Eden, summers of plenty, and
winters of mildness. To the land of our nativity alone, has
she given autumns of unrivalled beauty, magnificence and
abundance. Most of our poets have sung the charms of this
season- - all varying from each other, and all beautiful, like
the
many tinted hues of the foliage of t
the groves. The
pensive, sentimental, moralizing Bryant, says,

"The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year;"
but his exquisite lines are so well known, that we must re-
sist the temptation to quote them. The blithe, jocund,

bright-hearted Halleck sings in a strain of quite a different tune, in describing the country at this period. Who would not know these lines to be his;

"In the autumn time,

Earth has no holier, nor no lovelier clime."

But we must not quote him either, for the same reason. This objection, however does not apply to the delicate morceau of poor Brainard, which has seldom been copied,

is in little repute, but which contains the true inspiration of poetry.

"What is there sadd'ning in these autumn leaves? '

Have they that 'green and yellow melancholy,'

That the sweet poet spake of? Had he seen
Our variegated woods, when first the frost
Turns into beauty all October's charms—

When the dread fever quits us-when the storms

Of the wild equinox, with all its wet,

Has left the land, as the first deluge left it,
With a bright bow of many colors hung

Upon the forest tops- he had not sighed.
The moon stays longest for the hunter now
The trees cast down their fruitage, and the blithe
And busy squirrel boards his winter store;
While man enjoys the breeze that sweeps along
The bright blue sky above him, and that bends
Magnificently all the forest's pride,

Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks,
'What is there sadd'ning in the autumn leaves?""

"ALL THAT'S BRIGHT MUST FADE."

I've seen in blooming loveliness,

The youthful maiden's angel form;

I've seen in towering stateliness,
The hero, breasting battle's storm;
The cankerworm of hopelessness
Has blighted all her bloom;
War's iron bolt, in ruthlessness,

Has sped him to the tomb;
Thus ever fades earth's loveliest,
Thus dies the brightest and the best.
Then count not maiden's loveliness,

Nor hero's towering stateliness

234

OLD BULFINCH AND YOUNG BIRDS.

And silence publicly enjoin'd,

Deliver'd briefly thus his mind;

"My friends, be cautious how you treat The subject upon which we meet ;

I fear we shall have winter yet."

A Finch, whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wing and satin poll;

A last year's bird who ne'er had tried
What marriage meant, thus pert replied:
"Methinks the gentleman," quoth she,
"Opposite, in the apple tree,

By his good will would keep us single,
'Till yonder heaven and earth should mingle;
Or (which is likelier to befal)

'Till death exterminate us all.

I marry without more ado;

My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?”

Dick heard; and tweedling, ogling, bridling,
Turning short round, strutting and sideling,
Attested glad his approbation

Of an immediate conjugation.
Their sentiments so well express'd,
Influenced mightily the rest;

All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.

But though the birds were thus in haste,

The leaves came on not quite so fast;
And destiny, that sometimes bears

An aspect stern in man's affairs,

Not altogether smiled on theirs.

The wind, that late breathed gently forth,

Now shifted east, and east by north;

Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know,

Could shelter them from rain or snow;
Stepping into their nests, they paddled,
Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled;
Soon every bird and mother

Grew quarrelsome and peck'd each other;

Parted without the least regret,
Except that they had ever met;
And learn'd in future to be wiser,
Than to neglect a good adviser.

MORAL.

Young folks, who think themselves so wise,

That old folk's counsel they despise,

Will find when they too late repent,

Their folly prove their punishment.

THE RIVER.

RIVER River! little River!

Bright you sparkle on your way,

O'er the yellow pebbles dancing,
Through the flowers and foliage glancing,
Like a child at play.

River! River! swelling River!
On you rush o'er rough and smooth,
Louder, faster, brawling, leaping
Over rocks by rose-banks sweeping,
Like impetuous youth.

River! River! brimming River!
Broad, and deep, and still as time,
Seeming still yet still in motion,
Tending onward to the ocean,
Just like mortal prime.

River! River! rapid River!

Swifter now you slip away;

Swift and silent as an arrow,

Through a channel dark and narrow,

Like life's closing day.