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From me, those dark, impervious shades, that hang
Upon the region whither we are bound,
Exclude a power to enjoy the vital beams
Of present sunshine.—Deities that float
On wings, angelic Spirits, I could muse
O'er what from eldest time we have been told
Of your bright forms and glorious faculties,
And with the imagination be content,
Not wishing more; repining not to tread
The little sinuous path of earthly care,
By flowers embellished, and by springs refreshed.
—"Blow winds of Autumn!—let your chilling breath
"Take the live herbage from the mead, and strip
"The shady forest of its green attire,—
"And let the bursting Clouds to fury rouse
"The gentle Brooks!—Your desolating sway,"
Thus I exclaimed, "no sadness sheds on me,
"And no disorder in your rage I find.
"What dignity, what beauty, in this change
"From mild to angry, and from sad to gay,
"Alternate and revolving! How benign,
"How rich in animation and delight,
"How bountiful these elements—compared
