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360       ELIZABETH F. ELLET.

Of Autumn in his loveliness hath pass'd,
Touching their foliage with his brilliant hues,
And flinging o'er the lowliest leaf and shrub
His golden livery.  On the distant heights
Soft clouds, earth-based, repose, and stretch afar
Their burnish'd summits in the clear blue heaven,
Flooded with splendour, that the dazzled eye
Turns drooping from the sight.—Nature is here
Like a throned sovereign, and thy voice doth tell
In music never silent, of her power.
Nor are thy tones unanswer'd, where she builds
Such monuments of regal sway. These wide
Untrodden forests eloquently speak,
Whether the breath of summer stir their depths,
Or the hoarse moaning of November's blast
Strip from the boughs their covering

All the air
Is now instinct with life. The merry hum
Of the returning bee, and the blithe song
Of fluttering bird, mocking the solitude,
Swell upward—and the play of dashing streams
From the green mountain side is faintly heard.
With graceful sweep, or startled, soars away, 
Cleaving with mounting wing the clear bright air.

Oh! in the boasted lands beyond the deep,
Where Beauty hath a birth-right—where each mound
And mouldering ruin tells of ages past—
And every breeze, as with a spirit's tone,
Doth waft the voices of Oblivion back,
Waking the soul to lofty memories,
Is there a scene whose loveliness could fill
The heart with peach more pure?—Nor yet art thou,
Proud stream! without thy records—graven deep


ELIZABETH F. ELLET.     361

On yon eternal hills, which shall endure
Long as their summits breast the wint'ry storm
Or smile in the warm sunshine.  They have been
The chroniclers of centuries gone by:
Of a strange race, who trod perchance their sides,
Ere these gray woods had sprouted from the earth
Which now they shade.  Here onward swept thy waves,
When tones now silent mingled with their sound,
And the wide shore was vocal with the song
Of hunter chief, or lover's gentle strain.
Those pass'd away—forgotten as they pass'd;
But holier recollections dwell with thee:
Here hath immortal Freedom built her proud
And solemn monuments.  The mighty dust
Of heroes in her cause of glory fallen,
Hath mingled with the soil, and hallow'd it.
Thy waters in their brilliant path have seen
The desperate strife that won a rescued world—
The deeds of men who live in grateful hearts,
And hymn'd their requiem.

Far beyond this vale
That sends to heaven its incense of lone flowers,
Gay village spires ascend—and the glad voice
Of industry is heard.—So in the lapse
Of future years those ancient woods shall bow
Beneath the levelling axe—and Man's abodes
Display their sylvan honours.  The will pass
In turn away;—yet heedless of all change,
Surviving all, thou still wilt murmur on,
Lessoning the fleeting race that look on thee
To mark the wrecks of time, and read their doom.

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Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 22:40:43 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 15:47:52