Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. II, No. X., March 1851

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

NO. X.--MARCH, 1851.--VOL. II.

SPRING.

BY JAMES THOMSON.

Come, gentle SPRING, ethereal mildness, come; And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, vail'd in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts With unaffected grace, or walk the plain With innocence and meditation join'd In soft assemblage, listen to my song, Which thy own season paints; when Nature all Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. And see where surly winter passes off Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts: His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale; While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless; so that scarce The bittern knows his time with bill engulf'd To shake the sounding marsh; or, from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying soul, Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin, Fleecy, and white, o'er all surrounding heaven. Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd, Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives Relenting nature, and his lusty steers Drives from their stalls to where the well-us'd plow Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost. There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. Meanwhile, incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans, removes the obstructing clay, Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. While, through the neighboring fields the sower stalks With measur'd step; and, liberal, throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground: The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.

Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow! Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend! And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear: Such themes as these the rural Maro sung To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd. In ancient times, the sacred plow employ'd The kings and awful fathers of mankind; And some, with whom compar'd your insect tribes Are but the beings of a summer's day, Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm Of mighty war, then with victorious hand, Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd The plow, and greatly independent scorn'd All the vile stores corruption can bestow. Ye generous Britons, venerate the plow! And o'er your hills and long withdrawing vales Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, Luxuriant and unbounded! As the sea, Far through his azure turbulent domain, Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports, So with superior boon may your rich soil, Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be the exhaustless granary of a world!

Nor only through the lenient air this change, Delicious, breathes: the penetrative sun, His force deep-darting to the dark retreat Of vegetation, sets the steaming power At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth, In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay green! Thou smiling Nature's universal robe! United light and shade! where the sight dwells With growing strength, and ever-new delight. From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs; And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales; Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, And the birds sing conceal'd. At once, array'd In all the colors of the flushing year By Nature's swift and secret-working hand, The garden glows, and fills the liberal air With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd, Within its crimson folds. Now from the town, Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze Of sweetbrier hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, And see the country, far diffus'd around, One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower Of mingled blossoms: where the raptur'd eye Hurries from joy to joy; and, hid beneath The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies.

If, brush'd from Russian wilds, a cutting gale Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe Untimely frost--before whose baleful blast The full-blown Spring through all her foliage shrinks, Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste. For oft, engender'd by the hazy north, Myriads on myriads, insect armies waft Keen in the poison'd breeze; and wasteful eat, Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd core Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft The sacred sons of vengeance! on whose course Corrosive famine waits, and kills the year. To check this plague, the skillful farmer chaff And blazing straw before his orchard burns-- Till, all involv'd in smoke, the latent foe From every cranny suffocated falls; Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe; Or, when the envenom'd leaf begins to curl, With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest: Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, The little trooping birds unwisely scares.

Be patient, swains; these cruel-seeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep, repress'd, Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharg'd with rain, That o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne, In endless train, would quench the summer blaze, And, cheerless, drown the crude unripen'd year. The northeast spends his rage, and now shut up Within his iron caves--the effusive south Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent. At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, Scarce staining ether; but by fast degrees, In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapor sails Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep, Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom: Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, Oppressing life; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope and every joy, The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze Into a perfect calm; that not a breath Is heard to quiver through the closing woods, Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, diffus'd In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all, And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks Drop the dry sprig, and, mute-imploring, eye The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense, The plumy people streak their wings with oil, To throw the lucid moisture trickling off; And wait the approaching sign to strike, at once, Into the general choir. Even mountains, vales, And forests seem, impatient, to demand The promis'd sweetness. Man superior walks Amid the glad creation, musing praise, And looking lively gratitude. At last, The clouds consign their treasures to the fields, And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world. The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard By such as wander through the forest walks, Beneath the umbrageous multitude of leaves. But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends In universal bounty, shedding herbs, And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap? Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth; And, while the milky nutriment distills, Beholds the kindling country color round.

Thus all day long the full-distended clouds Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth Is deep-enrich'd with vegetable life; Till, in the western sky, the downward sun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes The illumin'd mountain; through the forest streams; Shakes on the floods; and in a yellow mist, Far smoking o'er the interminable plain, In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around Full swell the woods; their every music wakes, Mix'd in wild concert, with the warbling brooks Increas'd, the distant bleatings of the hills, The hollow lows responsive from the vales, Whence blending all the sweeten'd zephyr springs Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud, Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds, In fair proportion running from the red To where the violet fades into the sky. Here, awful Newton, the dissolving clouds Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism; And to the sage-instructed eye unfold The various twine of light, by thee disclos'd From the white mingling maze. Not so the swain: He wondering views the bright enchantment bend, Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd Beholds the amusive arch before him fly, Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds, A soften'd shade; and saturated earth Awaits the morning beam, to give to light, Rais'd through ten thousand different plastic tubes, The balmy treasures of the former day. Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power Of botanist to number up their tribes: Whether he steals along the lonely dale, In silent search; or through the forest, rank With what the dull incurious weeds account, Bursts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock, Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow. With such a liberal hand has Nature flung Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, Innumerous mix'd them with the nursing mould The moistening current, and prolific rain. But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With vision pure, into these secret stores Of health, and life, and joy? the food of man, While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told A length of golden years, unflesh'd in blood; A stranger to the savage arts of life, Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease-- The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world.

The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladdened race Of uncorrupted man, nor blushed to see The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam; For their light slumbers gently fum'd away, And up they rose as vigorous as the sun. Or to the culture of the willing glebe, Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock. Meantime the song went round; and dance and sport, Wisdom and friendly talk successive stole Their hours away; while in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free, And full replete with bliss; save the sweet pain That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, Was known among these happy sons of heaven; For reason and benevolence were law. Harmonious Nature, too, look'd smiling on. Clear shone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales, And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds Dropp'd fatness down; as, o'er the swelling mead, The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure. This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart Was meeken'd, and he join'd his sullen joy; For music held the whole in perfect peace: Soft sigh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard, Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round Applied their choir; and winds and waters flow'd In consonance. Such were those prime of days.