Ode To Summer

O SUMMER! hither bend thy cheerful way,
Our clime shall gladly hail thy sway;
O! come in all thy flowery pride,
With rural Pleasure dancing at thy side.
Thou as a cottage nymph art seen,
To range the meads with healthful mien;
In russet mantle light as air,
Loosely waves thy golden hair;
The plumy warblers chaunt thy praise,
From every shrub mellifluent lays
The list'ning ear entrance;
While hand in hand thy kindred months advance:
First June, with roseate chaplet crown'd,
She almost exiles from her train
Old Winter's consort, sable-hooded Night,
Who peeps behind, and shows but half her face,
Dazzled with Day's refulgent grace,
And flowing robe of pure transparent light:
July with razing scythe, who tends the plain,
And bids the with'ring grass perfume the air around:
Next August comes to close the band,
Ripe ears of golden grain adorn her hand,
Prophetic of autumnal stores;
Whilst each yellow waving field,
To Contemplation new delight shall yield,
Whose grateful eye their boundless wealth explores.
O Summer! oft amid the verdant bow'rs,
My mind would pass thy sultry hours,
Or in some mazy garden stray,
Or mid the shades of some sequester'd grove,
Whose leaves exclude the fervent ray,
With careless footsteps rove:
Thou, tranquil Leisure, Contemplation's friend,
Offspring of Competence attend;
Blest with life-endearing Health,
Not tempted with superfluous wealth,
I'd seek Retirement's inmost walks,
Where calm Reflection oft with Wisdom talks;
Where meek-eyed Peace her silver sceptre bears,
And Piety in angel-vest appears:
Or sit with some instructive book,
Beside the murmuring brook,
Whose limpid stream reflects th' o'er-bonding trees,
Blown gently by the cooling breeze;
While, gilded by the solar ray,
Flies on the trembling surface play.
Oft in still grandeur mid thy sultry skies,
The tempest-burden'd clouds arise,
In sable clad, with fiery-mingled glow,
Casting a solemn awe on all below,
The distant thunder rolling round;
Now the pale lightning's vivid gleam
Glides swiftly o'er the ground;
Now sullen howls the rising blast,
The drops descending large and fast,
Encrease the rapid stream;
The birds their airy summits quit,
And 'neath the thickest covert sit,
That e'er the entwining branches yield;
The cattle leave the grassy mead,
In haste to seek the shelt'ring shed,
And man forsakes the field.
And now the solemn peal resounds more near,
From hill, and vale, and rocky shore,
Till one tremendous roar
Bursts on the startled ear.
Contending storms their fury shed,
O'er the tall oak's majestic head,
Each with'ring leaf beneath the conflict droops,
(As from the blast the bending bulrush stoops)
Their stately height its shatter'd branches quit;
Swift from the low'ring skies,
The burning bolt terrific flies,
Bids the stout trunk, that unsubdued has stood,
From age to age, the glory of the wood,
Its giant strength submit.
The tempest o'er, the hind resumes his toil,
And gladly views a brighter day;
The ceasing show'r has cool'd the thirsty soil,
The cloudless sun emits th' enliv'ning ray;
The grateful earth assumes her greenest vest,
With fresh reviving flow'rets drest,
The plumy warblers pour a sweeter strain,
The herds return to graze the humid plain,
From hill to hill the joyful low resounds;
Ah! how delightful now to stray,
O'er the beauteous broider'd way,
While Nature's splendour every where surrounds;
When temperate Evening softens every scene,
The sylvan walk by stately poplars made,
Whose bending branches form the bow'ry shade,
(The moon-beam glimmering oft between)
With placid joy the mind inspires,
As she those heav'n-conducted orbs admires,
That o'er the circling realms irradiate shine,
And loud proclaim their Maker's pow'r divine.
Haste then, O Summer! hither bend thy way,
Glad Nature waits to bless thy genial sway.