Ye howling winds! howl out his praise,
And make the forests bow,
While through the air, the earth, and seas,
His solemn praise ye blow!
O, you high harmonious spheres !
Your powerful Mover sing,
To him your circling course that steers,
Your tuneful praises bring!
Ungrateful mortals! catch the sound,
And, in your numerous lays,
To all the listening world around
The God of nature praise!
AMONG the changing months, May stands confest
The sweetest, and in fairest colours drest!
Soft as the breeze that fans the smiling field;
Sweet as the breath that opening roses yield;
Fair as the colour lavish Nature paints
On Virgin flowers free from unodorous taints!—
To rural scenes thou tempt'st the busy crowd,
Who, in each grove, thy praises sing aloud!
THE MORNING IN THE COUNTRY.
WHEN from the opening chambers of the east,
The morning springs, in thousand luxuries drest,
The early lark his morning tribute pays,
And, in shrill note, salutes the blooming day.
Refreshed fields with pearly dew do shine,
And tender blades therewith their tops incline.
Their painted leaves the unblown flowers expand,
And with their odorous breath perfume the land.
The crowing cock and chattering hen awakes
Dull sleepy clowns, who know the morning breaks.
The herd his plaid around his shoulders throws,
Grasps his dear crook, calls on his dog, and goes
Around the fold: he walks with careful pace,
And fallen clods sets in their wonted place;
Then opes the door, unfolds his fleecy care,
And gladly sees them crop their morning fare!
BY DAVID LESTER RICHARDSON, ESQ.
How gloriously yon gorgeous monarch rears
His bright majestic brow!-His robes of light
The green hills mantle, and his tresses bright
Float on the golden clouds! All nature wears
A smile of gladness ;-the resplendent tears
Shed, by the tristful spirits of the night,
On verdant meadows, vanish from the sight,
Like rain-drops on the sea! The warm beam cheers
The drowsy herd, and thrills the feathered throngs
Of early minstrels, whose melodious songs
Are borne upon the breeze. Now, mortals send
Their orisons above ;---while, shrub and flower
Perfume and bloom celestial sweetly blend,
To charm and consecrate the morning hours!
"GO, BEAUTIFUL AND GENTLE DOVE !"*
From an unpublished Oratorio.
BY THE REV. W. L. BOWLES.
"Go, beautiful and gentle dove!—
But whither wilt thou go?
For, though the sun shines bright above,
Forlorn and waste is all below!
Nor love nor pity thou shalt find,
Earth's dreary circuit o'er ;-
Then hasten to thy mistress kind,
And she, poor bird! will love thee more!"
The dove flew on, with hopeless flight,
Flew on from dawn till dark;
And then, amid the gloom of night,
Came weary to the ark.
* Mr. Bowles has set to music, and published, some words beginning with the same line, and, also, forming part of the same Oratorio. None of these verses are, however, included in his publication.
"Oh! let me in,"-it seemed to say, "For long and lone has been my way;— Oh! once more, gentle mistress! let me rest, And dry my dripping plumage on thy breast!"
The dove went forth, when morning rose,—
But oh! what transports fill
Their hearts who mark, at evening's close,
A green leaf in its bill!
So, heavenly hope—when pain and grief
The sinking soul have tossed,-
Brings back one token of relief,
That says, 66 ALL IS NOT LOST!"
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