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