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Of conquest, and their graves. Next Ceres came,
With German reapers in her train, and strow'd
Her harvests on the furrow'd width of flats.
Press'd by her golden sandals, we admire
The soil fructiferous, and scenes dress'd out
By smiling industry, that now reigns o'er
The wild demesnes of war. Pursuing west
The sinuating stream within its vales
Of lengthening meadows, insulated oft
With steep ascent, we reach the rising ground
Of aromatic pines, where, jutting south,
The elevated shore confronting meets
Schoharie's stony creek. The opening hills
Unfold its distant course, far in the blue
And mountainous horizon lost. A rich
And flourishing expanse of vale then leads
Beyond the confluent waters, through the meads,
From Caughnawaga to a stately ridge

Of mountain granite, piled in lofty tiers,
Aerial, strutting in the scene. Here stopp'd
The prospect of our level course

-We pause

In contemplation on the massy ribs
Developed, that maintain our earthly stage,
Till, length, the opening flats unfold the tower
And shapely roofs of Palatine-its plain
And intervening fields with herbage spread,
Or crested corn; while sloping woodlands topp'd
With soaring pines, the Mohawk's bushy verge
O'ershadow, and the eye contemplative
In admiration fix. Where is the mind
That honors truth, and in this transient day
Of perishable nature, 'mid the scoffs
And turmoil of a selfish world, would still
Preserve serene and animate the brows
Of virtuous sentiment, that does not seek
In rural peace a refuge from its sighs?
What though ambition wear a crown-the fangs
Of avarice be fill'd with gold-esteem

And dear-bought wealth enrich the tongue that wins
By syren eloquence; yet happier he,

Whom, in his valleys, ringing with the axe,
The setting sun forsakes, amidst the works

Of growing settlement. Delightful cares!
That, in perspective of the future, charm
Beyond the plaudits of ephemeron praise.
How bless'd the prospect, to behold, each hour,

Increasing all around, expansive life
And happiness-their rapid progress urged
By ardent toil, invigorate by hope!

Though none here revel on the silken couch

Of zoneless pleasure, Friendship still may dwell
With Peace and Love, more sweet than is the voice
Of Fame, when from Parnassus she proclaims,

In melodies that vibrate betwixt heaven
And earth, her hero's actions. But, renew'd
Our journey, we pursue the mountain's stony edge,
Where the Caroga issues from the wild

And desert heights, in elevated range

Of sylvan tops far northward stretch'd, and where,
Below, its cataract pours down the hoarse

Canadian creek; till, rising in our front,

The mountains close, where once, perhaps, their rocks,
In one unbroken chain, the Mohawk's mass
Of waters, o'er the German flats and plains
Of Herkimer, suspended in a broad

Primeval lake, till, issuing through the strait's
Disjointed pass, and roaring granite rocks,
The lake, descending, left its reedy bounds,
And bed of slime, exhaling to the sun.

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And now the airy Flats we pass, their church,
Litigious hall, and taverns, and approach
The gloomy shade of dark continuous wood,
That runs high westward to the Mohawk's fount.
Unbroken here the waste-half settled here
The towering trees on new-born fields recline-
Disorder'd, hewn, the venerable stems

And branching limbs surround their parent trunks,
That in the blackening conflagration still
Survive, and to the scythe of Time alone,
That levels all things, yield: a sturdy few
Yet standing, girdled by the fatal knife,
In slow destruction waste, upon their sprays
And airy summits quench'd the vital lymph;
In wintry desolation group'd, they pine
'Midst summer's genial solstice. Thriving near,
Their comrades flourish; tall, columnar bass,
With fluted shafts aspiring; oaks that stretch
Their vigorous arms; the hemlock, sombre topp'd
The yellow birch, her silken boddice half
Unlaced; and maple, delicately seam'd.

Athwart the solemn woods, of vast extent,
Stem beyond stem, in series infinite,
With vaulting foliage shadow'd as we pass,
The lively sun oft darts his influence;
And, 'midst the humid trees, an open square,
The hospitable roof of logs rough hewn,
Excorticate reveals. Aside, empaled,
The garden flourishes with roseate flowers;
And at the door the children gambol near;
Their lily-featured mother still intent
On busy cares domestic; while the sire
Along the echoing causeway drives his kine,
Or plies his axe far sounding.

Thus, beloved
And happy scenes! a pensive wanderer,

I have trod your wilds, enamor'd much

Of Nature in her simplest guise, though sunk
At heart, and anxious to forsake the world

And all its vain, deceitful blandishments.

When these solicitous and weary eyes

Are closed through many a summer's reign, your vales
Shall flourish, each succeeding year shall yield
New stores of wealth, and future ages bless
The works, the zeal, the wisdom of the past.

SAMUEL LOW

Is the author of a collection of poems, in two volumes, published at New York in 1800.

WINTER.

"How changed, how fallen" now the landscape lies,
Which late with beauty's image bless'd our eyes;
Loved summer scenes, ah! whither have ye fled?
Ye short-lived charms, no sooner loved than dead!
Dear rural prospects, once with verdure graced,
But now by Winter's blighting touch laid waste;

Fair objects, that on mortal sense could pour
Delights, that glad man's torpid sense no more;
Once all your charms, with ever new delight,
In swift succession rose upon my sight;
With secret rapture often have I gazed
On Nature's gifts, and Nature's Author praised;
When genial showers enrich'd the teeming earth,
And vernal warmth gave vegetation birth,

Then throbb'd my heart, by Winter's blast unchill'd,
And speechless feelings through my bosom thrill'd;
Or when the fervor of a summer sun

Matured what Spring's creative power had done;
Or recent Autumn's yellow fields appear'd,
And health and hope the rustic owner cheer'd;
When bounteous harvests well repaid his toil,
And various plenty made the country smile;
When every wish indulgent Nature crown'd,
And shed her gifts exuberant around,
Enraptured I beheld,—the hours were spent
In warm acknowledgment and calm content.
While thus I call to mind enjoyments past,
And with them Winter's dreary scenes contrast,
On evanescent good while mem'ry dwells,
The gloomy retrospect my bosom swells;
Desponding images my thoughts employ,
The wreck of beauty, and the death of joy :
Dismantled earth inspires the soul with dread-
Loved Summer's scenes! ah, wherefore have ye fled?
Long gath'ring vapors now to clouds increased,
Surcharged with frosty stores, involve the east:
Bleak Eurus there prepares his chilling blasts,
A weight of snow the burthen'd air o'ercasts;
Of keener cold and piercing frosts I sing,
Engend'ring in the air, which soon will cling
Fast hold on all beneath, which soon will throw
A robe of whiteness over all below:

Stern Winter, now confirm'd, in wrath impends;
With all his gloomy ensigns he descends ;
For, lo! he gives the ripen'd mischief birth,
And shakes his vapory produce on the earth:
"Tis come, dread Winter's hoary badge is come,
And bids the earth prepare to meet its doom.
By Eurus driven through the sluggish air,

The shower, minute and light, flies wavering there;
But soon, o'er all the atmosphere dispersed,
Creation in its bosom lies immersed:

Perpetual driving snow obscures the skies,
Commixing heaven and earth while thus it flies;
The spreading ruin overwhelms the plains,
And dazzling whiteness over nature reigns;
Its weight oppressive swells the hills, and lo!
Beneath accumulating heaps of snow,

How yonder trees, with drooping branches, stand
In white array, a venerable band!

How close the fleecy shroud to earth adheres!
How uniform the boundless scene appears!
Wide and more wide the spotless waste prevails,
Till aching vision at the prospect fails;

Till the spent gale an ermine mantle flings
O'er all this sublunary scene of things.

Nor have the clouds spent all their downy store,
But on the earth a frozen deluge pour :
Still more collecting, unexhausted still,
Though subtile flakes each lurking fissure fill,
And every vale exalts itself a hill.

Meanwhile the cattle shun the whelming waste,
With quicken'd speed for shelter home they haste,
Mournful, and ruminating as they go,

And shaking from their sides the cumb'rous snow:
Arrived at home, the dumb expecting band,
For entrance, near their hovels shivering stand;
The lowing kine the milker's hand intreat,
And oft the call importunate repeat;
Son'rous and long resounds the lowing strain;
The hills reponsive bellow back again.

There too the fleecy tribe their pittance crave,
Which once the herbage wild spontaneous gave;
And clam'rous bleat for their accustom'd meal,
Which cold made scant, and now thick snows conceal.
There chanticleer the storm undaunted braves,
Proud o'er the feather'd throng his plumage waves;
He spurns the snow, the blast he does not reck,
But, crowing shrill, exalts his glossy neck.
The steed rears graceful there his tow'ring size,
With head erect he gazes on the skies,
And prances wild, and snuffs the chilling air,
And neighs, impatient for the owner's care:
Nor long the helpless brutes his succor ask,
Soon, whistling, comes the peasant to his task;
Them large supplies of provender to spare,
And house them safe is his assiduous care.
Next comes the thrifty milk-maid, early taught

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