13. When, round the table of their Lord, In memory of the bitter death Of him who taught at Nazareth, And thoughtful eyes with tears are wet, The glory of whose rising, yet Makes bright the grave's mysterious brink. Brethren, the sower's task is done; The seed is in its winter bed: Now let the dark brown mold be spread, And leave it to the kindly câre 14. The těmpèst now may smite, the sleet All night on the drowned furrow beat, To wake with warmth, and nurse with dew, 15. O blessed harvèst yet to be! Abide thou with the love that keeps, In its warm bosom, tenderly, The life which wakes, and that which sleeps. The love that leads the willing spheres Along the unending track of years, And watches o'er the sparrow's nest, 'Shall brood above thy winter rest, And raise thee from the dust, to hold Ο Light whisperings with the winds of May, From summer's yellow ray. Then, as thy garners give thee fōrth, Roads wind, and rivers flow! The ancient East shall welcome thee, And they who dwell whêre pälm-groves sound BRYANT. NCE mōre I am upon this serene hill-top! The air is věry clear, very still, and very solemn, or, rather, tenderly sad, in its serene brightnèss. It is not that moist spring air, full of the smell of wood, of the soil, and of the odor of vegetation, which warm winds bring to us from the south. It is not that summer atmosphere, full of alternations of haze and fervent clearness, as if Nature were calling into life every day some influence for her myriäd children; sometimes in showers, and sometimes with coercive heat upon root and leaf; and, like a universal tåsk-måster, were driving up the hours to accomplish the labors of the year. 2. No! In these autumn days there is a sense of leisure and of meditation. The sun seems to look down upon the labors of its fiery hands with complacency.1 Be satisfied, O seasonable Sun! Thou hast shaped an ample year, and art garnering up harvests which well may swell thy rejoicing heart with gracious gladness. 3. One who breaks off in summer, and returns in autumn to the hills, needs almost to come to a new acquaintance with the most familiar things. It is another world; or it is the old world masquerading; and you halt, like one scrutinizing a disguised 1 2 Com pla'cen cy, a feeling of quiet pleasure; satisfaction. friend, between the obvious 1 dissemblance 2 and the subtile 3 likeness. 4. Southward of our front door there stood two elms, leaning their branches toward each other, forming a glorious arch of green. Now, in faint yellow, they grow attenuated, and seem as if departing; they are losing their leaves, and fading out of sight as trees do in twilight. Yonder, over against that young growth of birch and evergreen, stood, all summer long, a perfect maple-tree, rounded out on every side, thick with luxuriant fōliäge, and dark with greennèss, save when the morning sun, streaming through it, sent transparency to its very heart. Now it is a tower of gorgeous red. So sober and solemn did it seem all summer, that I should think as soon to see a prophet dåncing at a peasant's holiday, as it transfigured to such intense gayety. Its fellows, too, the birches and the walnuts, bûrn from head to foot with fires that glow but never consume. 5. But these holiday hills! Have the evening clouds, suffused with sunset, dropped down and become fixed into solid forms? Have the rainbows that followed autumn storms, faded upon the mountains and left their mantles there? Yět, with all their brilliancy, how modèst do they seem; how patient when bâre, or burdened with winter; how cheerful when flushed with summer-green; and how modest when they lift up their wreathed and crowned heads in the resplendent days of autumn! 6. I stand alone upon the peaceful summit of this hill, and turn in every direction. The east is all aglow; the blue north flushes all her hills with radiance; the west stands in burnished armor; the southern hills buckle the zone of the hori'zon together with emeralds and rubies, such as were never set in the fabled girdle of the gods! Of gazing there can not be enough. The hunger of the eye grows by feeding. 5 7. Only the brotherhood of evergreens-the pine, the cedar, the spruce, and the hemlock-refuse to join this universal revel. They wear their sober green through autumn and winter, as if they were set to keep open the päth of summer through the 1 Ob'vi oŭs, easily discovered, seen, or understood; open. 2 Dis sěm'blance, want of resemblance. 3 Sub'tile, thin; râre; delicate. 4 At tĕn'u at ed, made thin or slender. 5 Spruce (spros), Rule 4, p. 26. whole year, and girdle all seasons together with a clasp of endless green. But in vain do they give solemn exămples to the měrry leaves which frolic with every breeze that runs sweet riot in the glowing shades. Gay leaves will not be counseled, but will die bright and läughing. But both together—the transfigured leaves of deciduous 1 trees, and the cälm, unchangeablenèss of evergreens-how more beautiful are they than either alone! The solemn pine brings color to the cheek of the beeches, and the scarlet and golden maples rest gracefully upon the dark fōliäge of the million-fingered pine. 8. Lifted far above all harm of fowler, or impediment of mountain, wild fowl are steadily flying southward. The simple sight of them fills the imagination with pictures. They have all summer long called to each other from the reedy fens and wild oat-fields of the far north. Summer is already extinguished there. Winter is following their track, and marching steadily toward us. The spent flowers, the seared leaves, the thinning tree-tops, the morning frost, have bōrne witnèss of a change on earth; and these căr'avans of the upper air confirm the tidings. Summer is gone : winter is coming! 9. The wind has risen to-day. It is not one of those gusty, playful winds, that frolic with the trees. It is a wind high up in air, that moves steadily, with a solemn sound, as if it were the spirit of summer journeying påst us; and, impatient of delay, it does not stoop to the earth, but touches the tops of the trees with a mûrmûring sound, sighing a sad fârewell, and påssing on. 10. Such days fill one with pleasant sădnèss. How sweet a pleasure is there in sadness! It is not sorrow; it is not despondency; it is not gloom! It is one of the moods of joy. At any rate I am very happy, and yet it is sober, and very sad happiness. It is the shadow of joy upon the soul. 11. I can reason about these changes. I can cover over the dying leaves with imaginations as bright as their own hues; and, by Christian faith, transfigure the whole scene with a blessèd vision of joyous dying and glorious resurrection. But 1 De cĭd'ü oŭs, falling off; not or other things that are shed yearly. permanent; said of trees whose ? De spond'en cy, a complete surleaves fall in autumn, or of leaves render of hope; discouragement. what then? Such thoughts glow like evening clouds, and not far beneath them are the evening twilights, into whose dusk they will soon melt way. And all communions, and all admirations, and all associations, celestial or terrene,1 come alike into a pensive sadness, that is even sweeter than our joy. It is the minor key of the thoughts. H. W. BEECHER, SECTION XXII. I. 81. THE WOLVES. 'E who listen to stories told, YR W When hearths are cheery, and nights are cōld, By the wintry moon, the belated sleigh- 1 Ter rēne', earthly. 2 Minor, less; in music, less or lower by hälf a tone. 3 Gaunt (gänt), slender; lean. 4 Spec'ter, an apparition; a ghost. 5 Prowl, to rove over, through, or about; to rove or wander, especially for prey. |