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James Thomson - The Four Seasons : Autumn
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The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 
He comes! he comes! in every breeze the Power 
Of Philosophic Melancholy comes! 
His near approach the sudden starting tear, 
The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, 
The soften`d feature, and the beating heart, 
Pierced deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. 
O`er all the soul his sacred influence breathes! 
Inflames imagination; through the breast 
Infuses every tenderness; and far 
Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought. 
Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such 
As never mingled with the vulgar dream, 
Crowd fast into the mind`s creative eye. 
As fast the correspondent passions rise, 
As varied, and as high: Devotion raised 
To rapture, and divine astonishment; 
The love of Nature unconfined, and, chief, 
Of human race; the large ambitious wish, 
To make them blest; the sigh for suffering worth 
Lost in obscurity; the noble scorn 
Of tyrant pride; the fearless great resolve; 
The wonder which the dying patriot draws, 
Inspiring glory through remotest time; 
The awaken`d throb for virtue, and for fame; 
The sympathies of love, and friendship dear; 
With all the social offspring of the heart. 
Oh! bear me then to vast embowering shades, 
To twilight groves, and visionary vales; 
To weeping grottos, and prophetic glooms; 
Where angel forms athwart the solemn dusk, 
Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along; 
And voices more than human, through the void 
Deep sounding, seize the enthusiastic ear? 
Or is this gloom too much? Then lead, ye powers, 
That o`er the garden and the rural seat 
Preside, which shining through the cheerful hand 
In countless numbers blest Britannia sees; 
O lead me to the wide extended walks, 
The fair majestic paradise of Stowe!
Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia`s shore 
E`er saw such sylvan scenes; such various art 
By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed 
By cool judicious art; that, in the strife, 
All beauteous Nature fears to be outdone. 
And there, O Pitt, thy country`s early boast, 
There let me sit beneath the shelter`d slopes, 
Or in that Temple where, in future times, 
Thou well shalt merit a distinguish`d name; 
And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles 
Of Autumn beaming o`er the yellow woods. 
While there with thee the enchanted round I walk, 
The regulated wild, gay Fancy then 
Will tread in thought the groves of attic land; 
Will from thy standard taste refine her own, 
Correct her pencil to the purest truth 
Of Nature, or, the unimpassion`d shades 
Forsaking, raise it to the human mind. 
Or if hereafter she, with juster hand, 
Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her, thou, 
To mark the varied movements of the heart, 
What every decent character requires, 
And every passion speaks: O through her strain 
Breathe thy pathetic eloquence! that moulds 
The attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts, 
Of honest Zeal the indignant lightning throws, 
And shakes Corruption on her venal throne. 
While thus we talk, and through Elysian vales 
Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes: 
What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files 
Of order`d trees shouldst here inglorious range, 
Instead of squadrons flaming o`er the field, 
And long embattled hosts! when the proud foe, 
The faithless vain disturber of mankind, 
Insulting Gaul, has roused the world to war; 
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
Those polish`d robbers, those ambitious slaves, 
The British youth would hail thy wise command, 
Thy temper`d ardour and thy veteran skill. 
The western sun withdraws the shorten`d day; 
And humid Evening, gliding o`er the sky, 
In her chill progress, to the ground condensed 
The vapours throws. Where creeping waters ooze, 
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, 
Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 
The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the Moon 
Full-orb`d, and breaking through the scatter`d clouds, 
Shows her broad visage in the crimson`d east. 
Turn`d to the sun direct, her spotted disk, 
Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend, 
And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, 
A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again, 
Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. 
Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, 
Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. 
Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild 
O`er the sky`d mountain to the shadowy vale, 
While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam, 
The whole air whitens with a boundless tide 
Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. 
But when half blotted from the sky her light, 
Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
With keener lustre through the depth of heaven; 
Or near extinct her deaden`d orb appears, 
And scarce appears, of sickly beamless white; 
Oft in this season, silent from the north 
A blaze of meteors shoots; ensweeping first 
The lower skies, they all at once converge 
High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, 
And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew, 
All ether coursing in a maze of light. 
From look to look, contagious through the crowd, 
The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 
The appearance throws: armies in meet array, 
Throng`d with aërial spears, and steeds of fire; 
Till the long lines of full extended war 
In bleeding fight commix`d, the sanguine flood 
Rolls a broad slaughter o`er the plains of heaven. 
As thus they scan the visionary scene, 
On all sides swells the superstitious din, 
Incontinent; and busy frenzy talks 
Of blood and battle; cities overturn`d, 
And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 
Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame; 
Of sallow famine, inundation, storm; 
Of pestilence, and every great distress; 
Empires subversed, when ruling fate has struck 
The unalterable hour: e`en Nature`s self 
Is deem`d to totter on the brink of time. 
Not so the man of philosophic eye, 
And inspect sage; the waving brightness he 
Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 
The causes, and materials, yet unfix`d, 
Of this appearance beautiful and new. 
Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, 
A shade immense! Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
Order confounded lies; all beauty void; 
Distinction lost; and gay variety 
One universal blot: such the fair power 
Of light, to kindle and create the whole. 
Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, 
Who then, bewilder`d, wanders through the dark, 
Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge; 
Nor visited by one directive ray, 
From cottage streaming, or from airy hall. 
Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on, 
Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue, 
The wildfire scatters round, or gather`d trails 
A length of flame deceitful o`er the moss: 
Whither decoy`d by the fantastic blaze, 
Now lost and now renew`d he sinks absorb`d, 
Rider and horse, amid the miry gulf: 
While still, from day to day, his pining wife 
And plaintive children his return await, 
In wild conjecture lost. At other times, 
Sent by the better Genius of the night, 
Innoxious, gleaming on the horse`s mane, 
The meteor sits; and shows the narrow path, 
That winding leads through pits of death, or else 
Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. 
The lengthen`d night elapsed, the Morning shines 
Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright, 
Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. 
And now the mounting sun dispels the fog; 
The rigid hoar frost melts before his beam; 
And hung on every spray, on every blade 
Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. 
Ah, see where, robb`d and murder`d, in that pit 
Lies the still heaving hive! at evening snatch`d, 
Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 
And fix`d o`er sulphur: while, not dreaming ill, 
The happy people, in their waxen cells, 
Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 
Of temperance, for Winter poor; rejoiced 
To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends; 
And, used to milder scents, the tender race, 
By thousands, tumble from their honey`d domes, 
Convolved, and agonizing in the dust. 
And was it then for this you roam`d the Spring, 
Intent from flower to flower? for this you toil`d 
Ceaseless the burning Summer heats away? 
For this in Autumn search`d the blooming waste, 
Nor lost one sunny gleam? for this sad fate? 
O Man! tyrannic lord! how long, how long 
Shall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage, 
Awaiting renovation? when obliged, 
Must you destroy? of their ambrosial food 
Can you not borrow; and, in just return, 
Afford them shelter from the wintry winds; 
Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 
Again regale them on some smiling day? 
See where the stony bottom of their town 
Looks desolate, and wild; with here and there 
A helpless number, who the ruin`d state 
Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 
Thus a proud city, populous and rich, 
Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, 
At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, 
(As late, Palermo, was thy fate) is seized 
By some dread earthquake, and convulsive hurl`d 
Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involved, 
Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame. 
Hence every harsher sight! for now the day, 
O`er heaven and earth diffused, grows warm, and high; 
Infinite splendour! wide investing all. 
How still the breeze! save what the filmy thread 
Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 
How clear the cloudless sky? how deeply tinged 
With a peculiar blue! the ethereal arch 
How swell`d immense! amid whose azure throned 
The radiant sun how gay! how calm below 
The gilded earth! the harvest-treasures all 
Now gather`d in, beyond the rage of storms, 
Sure to the swain; the circling fence shut up; 
And instant Winter`s utmost rage defied. 
While, loose to festive joy, the country round 
Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, 
Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth 
By the quick sense of music taught alone, 
Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. 
Her every charm abroad, the village-toast, 
Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 
Darts not unmeaning looks; and, where her eye 
Points an approving smile, with double force, 
The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. 
Age too shines out; and, garrulous, recounts 
The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think 
That, with to-morrow`s sun, their annual toil 
Begins again the never ceasing round. 
Oh, knew he but his happiness, of men 
The happiest he! who far from public rage, 
Deep in the vale, with a choice few retired, 
Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life. 
What though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, 
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd 
Of flatterers false, and in their turn abused? 
Vile intercourse! what though the glittering robe 
Of every hue reflected light can give, 
Or floating loose, or stiff with mazy gold, 
The pride and gaze of fools! oppress him not? 
What though, from utmost land and sea purvey`d, 
For him each rarer tributary life 
Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 
With luxury, and death? What though his bowl 
Flames not with costly juice; nor sunk in beds, 
Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, 
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state? 
What though he knows not those fantastic joys 
That still amuse the wanton, still deceive; 
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain; 
Their hollow moments undelighted all? 
Sure peace is his; a solid life, estranged 
To disappointment, and fallacious hope: 
Rich in content, in Nature`s bounty rich, 
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring, 
When heaven descends in showers; or bends the bough, 
When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; 
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies 
Conceal`d, and fattens with the richest sap: 
These are not wanting; nor the milky drove, 
Luxuriant, spread o`er all the lowing vale; 
Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams, 
And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 
Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade, 
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay; 
Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 
Dim grottos, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 
Here too dwells simple Truth; plain Innocence; 
Unsullied Beauty; sound unbroken Youth, 
Patient of labour, with a little pleased; 
Health ever blooming; unambitious Toil; 
Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease. 
Let others brave the flood in quest of gain, 
And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. 
Let such as deem it glory to destroy 
Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek; 
Unpierced, exulting in the widow`s wail, 
The virgin`s shriek, and infant`s trembling cry. 
Let some, far distant from their native soil, 
Urged or by want or harden`d avarice, 
Find other lands beneath another sun. 
Let this through cities work his eager way, 
By legal outrage and establish`d guile, 
The social sense extinct; and that ferment 
Mad into tumult the seditious herd, 
Or melt them down to slavery. Let these 
Insnare the wretched in the toils of law, 
Fomenting discord, and perplexing right, 
An iron race! and those of fairer front, 
But equal inhumanity, in courts, 
Delusive pomp and dark cabals, delight; 
Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 
And tread the weary labyrinth of state. 
While he, from all the stormy passions free 
That restless men involve, hears, and but hears, 
At distance safe, the human tempest roar, 
Wrapp`d close in conscious peace. The fall of kings, 
The rage of nations, and the crush of states, 
Move not the man, who, from the world escaped, 
In still retreats and flowery solitudes, 
To Nature`s voice attends, from month to month, 
And day to day, through the revolving year; 
Admiring, sees her in her every shape; 
Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart; 
Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 
He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting germs, 
Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale 
Into his freshen`d soul; her genial hours 
He full enjoys; and not a beauty blows, 
And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. 
In Summer he, beneath the living shade, 
Such as o`er frigid Tempè wont to wave, 
Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these, 
Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung; 
Or what she dictates writes: and, oft an eye 
Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 
When Autumn`s yellow lustre gilds the world, 
And tempts the sickled swain into the field, 
Seized by the general joy, his heart distends 
With gentle throes; and, through the tepid gleams 
Deep musing, then he best exerts his song. 
E`en Winter wild to him is full of bliss. 
The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, 
Abrupt and deep, stretch`d o`er the buried earth, 
Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies, 
Disclosed, and kindled, by refining frost, 
Pour every lustre on the exalted eye. 
A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure, 
And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing 
O`er land and sea imagination roams; 
Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind, 
Elates his being, and unfolds his powers; 
Or in his breast heroic virtue burns. 
The touch of kindred too and love he feels; 
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
Ecstatic shine; the little strong embrace 
Of prattling children, twined around his neck, 
And emulous to please him, calling forth 
The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay, 
Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns; 
For happiness and true philosophy 
Are of the social, still, and smiling kind. 
This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 
And guilty cities, never knew; the life, 
Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 
When Angels dwelt, and God himself, with Man! 
Oh Nature! all-sufficient! over all! 
Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works! 
Snatch me to Heaven; thy rolling wonders there, 
World beyond world, in infinite extent, 
Profusely scatter`d o`er the blue immense, 
Show me; their motions, periods, and their laws 
Give me to scan; through the disclosing deep 
Light my blind way: the mineral strata there; 
Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world; 
O`er that the rising system, more complex, 
Of animals; and higher still, the mind, 
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, 
And where the mixing passions endless shift; 
These ever open to my ravish`d eye; 
A search, the flight of time can ne`er exhaust! 
But if to that unequal; if the blood, 
In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
That best ambition; under closing shades, 
Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook, 
And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, 
Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song; 
And let me never, never stray from Thee!
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