AUTUMN-OCTOBER.

ARGUMENT.

AUTUMN.

The trudging sow leads forth her numerous young,
Playful, and white, and clean, the briers among,

Till briers and thorns, increasing, fence them round,
Acorns. Hogs in the wood. Wheat-sowing. The church.
Village girls. The mad girl. The bird-boy's hut.

Where last year's mouldering leaves bestrew the

Disappointments ; reflections, &c. Euston-hall. Fox-hunt

ground ; ing. Old Trouncer. Long nights. A welcome to Winter. And o'er their heads, loud lashed by furious squalls,

Bright from their cups the rattling treasure falls.
SUBJECT ; SCENES OF AUTUMN. — SWINEHERD ; HUNTSMAN.
Again, the year's decline, midst storms and floods THE POOL ; THE HAUNT OF THE WILD DUCK ; LUDICROUS

FRIGHT OF THE LITTLE PIGS.
The thundering chase, the yellow fading woods,
Invites my song ; that fain would boldly tell

Hot thirsty food! whence doubly sweet and cool Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell,

The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool, By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn,

The wild duck's lonely haunt, whose jealous eye The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.

Guards every point ; who sits prepared to fly,

On the calm bosom of her little lake, NEW-FALLEN MAST ; Sow AND PIGS FEEDING ON ACORNS.

Too closely screened for ruffian winds to shake; No more the fields with scattered grain supply And as the bold intruders press around, The restless wandering tenants of the sty ;

At once she starts and rises with a bound : From oak to oak they run with eager haste,

With bristles raised the sudden noise they hear, And, wrangling, share the first delicious taste And, ludicrously wild, and winged with fear, Of fallen acorns ; yet but thinly found,

The herd decamp with more than swinish speed, Till the strong gale have shook them to the ground; And snorting dash through sedge, and rush, and It comes ; and roaring woods obedient wave : Their home well pleased the joint adventurers Through tangling thickets headlong on they go, leave :

Then stop and listen for their fancied foe ;

reed ;

The hindmost still the growing panic spreads, Those narrow windows with the frequent flaw? Repeated fright the first alarm succeeds,

O'er whose low cells the dock and mallow spread, Till folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap : And rampant nettles lift the spiry head, Yet glorying in their fortunate escape,

Whilst from the hollows of the tower on high Their groundless terrors by degrees soon cease, The gray-capped daws in saucy legions fly. And night's dark reign restores their wonted peace.

THE GRAVES ABOUT THE CHAPEL ; SUNDAY TALK OF FARMERS;

BOYS' SPORTS IN THE GRAVE-YARD.
THE HOG'S NEST AT NIGHT ; THE PHEASANT ; GILES'S VAIN
SEARCH FOR THE SWINE.

Round these lone walls assembling neighbors meet, For now the gale subsides, and from each bough

And tread departed friends beneath their feet; The roosting pheasant's short but frequent crow

And new-briered graves, that prompt the secret sigh, Invites to rest ; and huddling side by side

Show each the spot where he himself must lie. The herd in closest ambush seek to hide ;

Midst timely greetings village news goes round, Seek some warm slope with shagged moss o'erspread,

Of crops late shorn, or crops that deck the ground; Dried leaves their copious covering and their bed.

Experienced ploughmen in the circle join ; In vain may Giles, through gathering glooms that

While sturdy boys, in feats of strength to shine, And solemn silence, urge his piercing call ; (fall,

With pride elate, their young associates brave Whole days and nights they tarry midst their store,

To jump from hollow-sounding grave to grave ; Nor quit the woods till oaks can yield no more.

Then close consulting, each his talent lends

To plan fresh sports when tedious service ends. WINTER-WHEAT ; HOW TO PROTECT IT WHEN SOWX IX AUTUMN.

THE VILLAGE MAIDS ; THEIR ERRAND AT CHURCH. Beyond bleak Winter's rage, beyond the Spring Hither at times, with cheerfulness of soul, That rolling earth's unvarying course will bring, Sweet village maids from neighboring hamlets stroll, Who tills the ground, looks on with mental eye, That, like the light-heeled does o'er lawns that rove, And sees next Summer's sheaves and cloudless sky; Look shyly curious ; ripening into love ; And even now, whilst Nature's beauty dies,

For love's their errand : hence the tints that glow Deposits seed, and bids new harvests rise ;

On either cheek an heightened lustre know : Seed well prepared, and warmed with glowing lime, When, conscious of their charms, c'en Age looks sly; 'Gainst earth-bred grubs, and cold, and lapse of And rapture beams from Youth's observant eye. time :

STORY OF CRAZED POLLY RAYNOR ; HER DRESS, WHIMS, MISFor searching frosts and various ills invade,

ERY, WILDNESS, AND PITEOUS INSANITY. Whilst wintry months depress the springing blade.

The pride of such a party, Nature's pride, AUTUMN PLOUGHING ; MANURE PLOUGHED IN; GILES'S LÀ

Was lovely Poll ;' who innocently tried,

With hat of airy shape and ribbons gay, The plough moves heavily, and strong the soil,

Love to inspire, and stand in Hymen's way :

But ere her twentieth summer could expand,
And clogging harrows with augmented toil
Dive deep ; and clinging, mixes with the mould

Or youth was rendered happy with her hand,

Her mind's serenity was lost and gone,
A fattening treasure from the nightly fold,
And all the cow-yard's highly valued store,

Her eye grew languid, and she wept alone ;
That late bestrewed the blackened surface o'er.

Yet causeless seemed her grief; for quick restrained,

Mirth followed loud, or indignation reigned :
No idling hours are here, when fancy trims
Her dancing taper over outstretched limbs,

Whims wild and simple led her from her home, And in her thousand thousand colors drest,

The heath, the common, or the fields, to roam : Plays round the grassy couch of noontide rest :

Terror and joy alternate ruled her hours ; Here Giles for hours of indolence atones

Now blithe she sung, and gathered useless flowers ; With strong exertion, and with weary bones,

Now plucked a tender twig from every bough, And knows no leisure ; till the distant chimo

To whip the hovering demons from her brow. Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon time,

Ill-fated maid ! thy guiding spark is fled, That down the brook sound sweetly in the gale,

And lasting wretchedness awaits thy bed Or strike the rising hill, or skim the dale.

Thy bed of straw! for mark, where even now

O’er their lost child afflicted parents bow ;
THE PARSON'S HORSE; THE RUDE CHAPEL ; DAWS. Their woe she knows not, but, perversely coy,
Nor his alone the sweets of ease to taste :

Inverted customs yield her sullen joy.
Kind rest extends to all ; - save one poor beast,

Her midnight meals in secrecy she takes, That, true to time and pace, is doomed to plod,

Low muttering to the moon, that rising breaks To bring the pastor to the house of God :

Through night's dark gloom :-0, how much more

forlorn Mean structure ; where no bones of heroes lie ! The rude inelegance of poverty

Her night, that knows of no returning dawn! Reigns here alone : else why that roof of straw?

1 Mary Raynor, of Ixworth Thorp, or Village.

BORS IN THE BARN-YARD, SABBATH BELLS.

Slow from the threshold, once her infant seat, Of cold-nipped weaklings of the latter brood,
O'er the cold earth she crawls to her retreat ; That, from the shell just bursting into day,
Quitting the cot's warm walls unhoused to lie, Through yard or pond pursue their venturous way.
Or share the swine's impure and narrow sty ;

THE BIRD-BOY'S WATCH.
The damp night air her shivering limbs assails ;
In dreams she moans, and fancied wrongs bewails. Far weightier cares and wider scenes expand ;
When morning wakes, none earlier roused than she, What devastation marks the new-sown land !
When pendent drops fall glittering from the tree, From hungry woodland foes, go, Giles, and guard
But naught her rayless melancholy cheers,

The rising wheat ; insure its great reward :
Or soothes her breast, or stops her streaming tears. A future sustenance, a Summer's pride,
Her matted locks unornamented flow;

Demand thy vigilance : then be it tried ;
Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro ; Exert thy voice, and wield thy shotless gun :
Her head bowed down, her faded cheeks to hide ; - Go, tarry there from morn till setting sun.'
A piteous mourner by the pathway side.

GILES BUILDS A HUT OF STRAW AND TURF, LIKE CRUSOE, Some tufted molehill through the livelong day

FOR SHELTER. She calls her throne; there weeps her life away :

Keen blows the blast, or ceaseless rain descends ; And oft the gayly passing stranger stays

The half-stripped hedge a sorry shelter lends. His well-timed step, and takes a silent gaze,

O for a hovel, e'er so small or low, Till sympathetic drops unbidden start,

Whose roof, repelling winds and early snow, And pangs quick springing muster round his heart;

Might bring home's comforts fresh before his eyes ! And soft he treads with other gazers round,

No sooner thought, than see the structure rise, And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound.

In some sequestered nook, embanked around, One word alone is all that strikes the ear,

Sods for its walls, and straw in burdens bound : One short, pathetic, simple word, —-0 dear!'

Dried fuel hoarded is his richest store, A thousand times repeated to the wind,

And circling smoke obscures his little door ; That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind !

Whence creeping forth, to duty's call he yields, Forever of the proffered parley shy,

And strolls the Crusoe of the lonely fields.
She hears the unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,

HIS HOSPITABLE FEAST OF HAWS AND SLOES; DISAPPOINTED

OF HIS BOY-GUESTS. - SOLITUDE AND LIBERTY. Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight.

On whitethorns towering, and the leafless rose,

A frost-nipped feast in bright vermilion glows : Fair promised sunbeams of terrestrial bliss, Where clustering sloes in glossy order rise, "Health's gallant hopes, - and are ye sunk to this? He crops the loaded branch ; a cunbrous prize ; For in life's road though thorns abundant grow, And o'er the flame the sputtering fruit he rests, There still are joys poor Poll can never know ; Placing green sods to seat his coming guests ; Joys which the gay companions of her prime His guests by promise ; playmates young and gay : Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;

But, ah ! fresh pastimes lure their steps away! At eve to hear beside their tranquil home

He sweeps his hearth, and homeward looks in vain, The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come : Till, feeling disappointment's cruel pain, That love matured, next playful on the knee His fairy revels are exchanged for rage, To press the velvet lip of infancy ;

His banquet marred, grown dull his hermitage. To stay the tottering step, the features trace ; - The field becomes his prison, till on high Inestimable sweets of social peace !

Benighted birds to shades and coverts fly.

Midst air, health, daylight, can he prisoner be? PRAYER FOR PEACE OF MIND AND WARMTH OF HEART.

If fields are prisons, where is liberty ? O Thou, who bidst the vernal juices rise !

Here still she dwells, and here her votaries stroll ; Thou, on whose blasts autumnal foliage flies !

HOPE DEFERRED; THE PRISONER; HOWARD.
Let peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold,
Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold.

But disappointed hope untunes the soul :

Restraints unfelt whilst hours of rapture flow, CARE OF THE LATE-KATCHED CHICKENS, ETC.

When troubles press, to chains and barriers grow. Shorn of their flowers that shed the untreasured Look, then, from trivial up to greater woes ; seed,

From the poor bird-boy with his roasted sloes, The withering pasture, and the fading mead, To where the dungeoned mourner heaves the sigh ; Less tempting grown, diminish more and more, Where not one cheering sunbeam meets his eye. The dairy's pride ; sweet Summer's flowing store. Though ineffectual pity thine may be, New cares succeed, and gentle duties press,

No wealth, no power, to set the captive free ; Where the fireside, a school of tenderness,

Though only to thy ravished sight is given Revives the languid chirp, and warms the blood The golden path that Howard trod to heaven ;

THE JOYS OF WEDDED LOVE.

Tusser's "October's Husbandry.