ODE ON AUTUMN. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCLXI. BY THE SAME. ADIEU the pleasing rural scene, Sequester'd shades and meadows green, The field thick spread with sheaves of corn, The walk at early hour of morn. No linnet's salutary song Soft echoes now the sprays among: No nightingale's more plaintive strain Soothes the lone peasant on the plain. The vales their chearful green resign, And on their stems the flowers decline: No more we wish to pass the hour Where elms and lilacs form a bower. And see the swallows leave their home, To distant, warmer climes they roam; Where zephyrs cool and grateful showers Still wake the fair autumnal flowers. How fade the glories of the year! They bloom awhile and disappear, And, melancholy truth, fond man! Thy life's a flower, thy day's a span. Parent of All! tremendous Power! Whom every realm and tongue adore, Whose mandate form'd earth's spacious plain, And the immeasurable main. Prostrate before thy throne we bow, Author of circling seasons Thou! O hasten happier days, and bring One glorious, One Eternal Spring.