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Then came the Autumne, all in yellow clad, THE SEASONS.
As though he joyed in his plenteous store, So issued forth the seasons of the year ;
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad First lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowers That he had banished hunger, which to-fore That freshly budded, and new blossoms did bear, Had by the belly oft him pinched sore ; In which a thousand birds had built their bowers, Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold That sweetly sung to call forth paramours ; With ears of corne of every sort, he bore, And in his hand a javelin he did bear,
And in his hand a sickle he did holde, And on his head (as fit for warlike stores) To reape the ripened fruit the which the earth A gilt engraven morion he did wear,
had yold. That, as some did him love, so others did him Faörie Qucene, Book vii.
SPENSER fear. Facric Queene, Book vii.
Autumn nodding o'er the yellow plain.
The stormy March has come at last,
With winds and clouds and changing skies ; And the ripe harvest of the new mown hay I hear the rushing of the blast
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor. That through the snowy valley flies.
Richard III. (Altered), Act v. Sc. 3. COLLEY CIBBER. W. C. BRYANT.
Lastly came Winter, cloathed all in frize, When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill ; Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze,
And the dull drops that from his purple bill 0, how this spring of love resembleth
As from a limbeck did adown distill ; The uncertain glory of an April day!
In his right hand a tipped staff he held
With which his feeble steps he stayed still, The Tempest, Act .. Sc. 3.
For he was faint with cold and weak with eld, As it fell upon a day
That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to weld. In the merry month of May.
Facrie Queene, Book vii.
SPENSER The Passionate Pilgrim.
O Winter, ruler of the inverted year.
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
The Task: Winter Evening
Chaste as the icicle, That's curded by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple : dear Valeria ! Coriolanus, Act v. Sc. 3.
Silently as a dream the fabric rose,
The Task : Winter Morning Walk.
Who first beholds those everlasting clouds,
SOUNDS OF NATURE.
The Task: The Sofa.
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains ;
They crowned him long ago
With a diadem of snow.
See where it smokes along the sounding plain,
I live not in myself, but I become
Childe Harold, Cant. iii.
In winter when the dismal rain
Came down in slanting lines,
His thunder-harp of pines.
Under the yaller-pines I house,
When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented, An' hear among their furry boughs
The baskin' west-wind purr contented. Biglow Papers, Serond Series, No. x.
The Story of Rimini.
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks Thou know'st, being stopped, impatiently doth To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
Close sat I by a goodly river's side,
Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm; Tro Gentiemen of Verona, Aa ii. Sc. 7.
A lonely place, with pleasures dignified.
I, that once loved the shady woods so well,
Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn,
And if the sun would ever shine, there would I The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
dwell. And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Contemplations. The Princess, Cant, vii.
The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on ground, With constant drinking fresh and fair.
No arborett with painted blossoms drest A nacrcontiques.
And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd
To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels When that I was and a little tiny boy,
al arownd. With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Faérie Queene, Book ii. Cant, vl.
SPENSER A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1.
On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks;
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! That on the green turf suck the honied showers, blow!
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
The glowing violet, Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, yoni
And every flower that sad embroidery wears. Froni seasons such as these ?
Lycidas. King Lear, act iii. Sc. 4.
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, Till, in the furious elemental war
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Dissolved, the whole precipitated mass
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. Unbroken floods and solid torrents pour.
car, Act iii. Sc. 2.
The Seasons: Summer.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky,
When storms prepare to part ; I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
7o the Rainbow).
How falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly
At some glad moment was it nature's choice
Or did some orange tulip, flaked with black,
Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard, Desire unspeakably to be a bird ?