EMERSON'S "WOOD NOTES."

AND such I knew a forest seer,
A minstrel of the natural year,
Foreteller of the vernal ides,
Wise harbinger of spheres and tides.
A lover true, who knew by heart
Each joy the mountain dales impart ;
It seemed that Nature could not raise
A plant in any secret place;
In quaking bog, or snowy hill,
Beneath the grass that shades the rill,
Under the snow, between the rocks,
In damp fields, known to bird and fox;
But he would come in the very hour
It opened in its virgin bower,
As if a sunbeam showed the place,
And tell its long-descended race.

It seemed as if the breezes brought him;
It seemed as if the sparrows taught him;
As if by secret sight he knew
Where, in far fields, the orchis grew.
Many haps fall in the field,

Seldom seen by wistful eyes,
But all her shows did Nature yield,

To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He saw the partridge drum in the woods,
He heard the woodcock's evening hymn;
He found the tawny thrush's broods;

And the sky-hawk did wait for him. What others did at distance hear, And guessed within the thicket's gloom, Was showed to this philosopher,

[gang,

And at his bidding seemed to come. In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberer's Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang ; He trod the unplanted forest floor, whereon The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone ; Where feeds the moose and walks the surly bear, And up the tall masts runs the woodpecker. He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, The slight Linnea hang its twin-born heads; And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, [bowers. With sudden roar the aged pine-tree fallsOne crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, Declares the close of its green century. Low lies the plant to whose creation went Sweet influence from every element; Whose living towers the years conspired to build Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, He roamed, content alike with man and beast.

Where darkness found him he lay glad at night;
There the red morning touched him with its light.
Three moons his great heart him a hermit made,
So long he roved at will the boundless shade.
The timid it concerns to ask their way,
And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray;
To make no step until the event is known,
And ills to come, as evils past, bemoan.
Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps, -
To spy what danger on his pathway creeps.
Go where he will, the wise man is at home-
His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome;
Where his clear spirit leads him, there his road,
By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.

VAUGHAN'S "EARLY PRAYER."

[keep -so shalt thou

WHEN first thine eyes unveil, give thy soul leave To do the like; our bodies but forerun The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun : Give Him thy first thoughts, then, Him company all day, and in Him sleep. Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should Dawn with the day: there are set awful hours "Twixt Heaven and us; the manna was not good After sunrising; for day sullies flowers: Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. Walk with thy fellow-creatures; note the hush And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing!" O leave thy cares and follies! Go this way, And thou art sure to prosper all the day. Serve God before the world; let Him not go Until thou hast a blessing; then resign The whole unto Him, and remember who Prevailed by wrestling, ere the sun did shine ; Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven. [youth, Mornings are mysteries; the first, the world's Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, [truth Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light; Is styled their star; the stone and hidden food : True blessings wait upon them, one of which Should move- - they make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay; Despatch necessities; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may; Yet keep those cares without thee; let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part.

ARGUMENT.

A

Historical deduction of seats, from the stool to the sofa. school-boy's ramble. A walk in the country. The scene described. Rural sounds as well as sights delightful. Another walk. Mistake concerning the charms of solitude corrected. Colonnades commended. Alcove, and the view from it. The wilderness. The grove. The thresher. The necessity and the benefits of exercise. The works of nature superior to, and, in some instances, inimitable by art. The wearisomeness of what is commonly called a life of pleasure. Change of scene sometimes expedient. A common described, and the character of crazy Kate introduced. Gypsies. The blessings of civilized life. That state most favorable to virtue. The South Sea islanders compassionated, but chiefly Omai. His present state of mind supposed. Civilized life friendly to virtue, but not great cities. Great cities, and London in particular, allowed their due praises, but censured. Fête champêtre. The book concludes with a reflection on the fatal effects of dissipation and effeminacy upon our public measures.

HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF CHAIRS AND SOFAS.

Time was, when clothing sumptuous, or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth, Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile. The hardy chief upon the rugged rock Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly hank Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud, Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength. Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next The birth-day of invention; weak at first, Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.

JOINT-STOOLS.

Joint-stools were then created; on three legs Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm A massy slab, in fashion square or round. On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms : And such in ancient halls and mansions drear May still be seen; but perforated sore, And drilled in holes, the solid oak is found, By worms voracious eaten through and through.

INVENTION OF THE STUFFED SEAT.

At length a generation more refined Improved the simple plan; made three legs four, Gave them a twisted form vermicular, And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuffed, Induced a splendid cover, green and blue, Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought And woven close, or needle-work sublime. There might ye see the piony spread wide, The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes, And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.

THE CHAIR INVENTED; CANE AND LEATHER BOTTOMS. Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright With nature's varnish; severed into stripes, That interlaced each other, these supplied Of texture firm a lattice-work, that braced The new machine, and it became a chair. But restless was the chair; the back erect Distressed the weary loins, that felt no ease; The slippery seat betrayed the sliding part That pressed it, and the feet hung dangling down, Anxious in vain to find the distant floor.

These for the rich the rest, whom fate had placed
In modest mediocrity, content

With base materials, sat on well-tanned hides,
Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth,
With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn,
Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fixed,

If cushion might be called, what harder seemed
Than the firm oak, of which the frame was formed.
No want of timber was then felt or feared
In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood
Ponderous and fixed by its own massy weight.

INVENTION OF THE ARM-CHAIR.

But elbows still were wanting; these, some say, An alderman of Cripplegate contrived; And some ascribe the invention to a priest, Burly and big, and studious of his ease. But, rude at first, and not with easy slope Receding wide, they pressed against the ribs, And bruised the side; and, elevated high, Taught the raised shoulders to invade the ears. Long time elapsed or e'er our rugged sires Complained, though incommodiously pent in, And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex.

INVENTION OF ELBOWED SETTEES; SOFAS.

Ingenious fancy, never better pleased Than when employed to accommodate the fair, Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devised The soft settee; one elbow at each end, And in the midst an elbow it received. United yet divided, twain at once.

So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne; And so two citizens, who take the air,

Close packed, and smiling, in a chaise and one.

But relaxation of the languid frame,
By soft recumbency of outstretched limbs,
Was bliss reserved for happier days. So slow
The growth of what is excellent; so hard
To attain perfection in this nether world.
Thus first necessity invented stools,
Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs,
And luxury the accomplished Sofa last.

SLEEP AND THE SOFA; NURSE; COACHMAN; CURATE; CLERK. -THE GOUT.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick,
Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he,
Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour,
To sleep within the carriage more secure,
His legs depending at the open door.
Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk,
The tedious rector drawling o'er his head;
And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep
Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead;
Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour,
To slumber in the carriage more secure ;
Nor sleep enjoyed by curate in his desk;
Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet,
Compared with the repose the Sofa yields.
O may I live exempted (while I live
Guiltless of pampered appetite obscene)
From pangs arthritic, that infest the toe
Of libertine excess. The Sofa suits

The gouty limb, 't is true; but gouty limb,
Though on a Sofa, may I never feel:

THE RURAL WALK; SHEEP¦ LUNCH; HIPS AND BERRIES; THE SCHOOL-BOY'S RAMBLE.

For I have loved the rural walk through lanes Of grassy swath, close cropped by nibbling sheep, And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs; have loved the rural walk O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink, E'er since a truant boy I passed my bounds, To enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames; And still remember, nor without regret, Of hours, that sorrow since has much endeared, How oft, my slice of pocket store consumed, Still hungering, penniless, and far from home, I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws, Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. Hard fare! but such as boyish appetite Disdains not; nor the palate, undepraved By culinary arts, unsavory deems. No Sofa then awaited my return; Nor Sofa then I needed.

YOUTH AND MELLOW AGE. ELASTICITY. FRIENDSHIP.SYMPATHY IN THE LOVE OF NATURE.

Youth repairs

His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil
Incurring short fatigue; and, though our years,
As life declines, speed rapidly away,
And not a year but pilfers as he goes

Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep, —
A tooth or auburn lock; and by degrees
Their length and color from the locksthey spare ; —
The elastic spring of an unwearied foot,

That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence;
That play of lungs, inhaling and again
Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes
Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me,—
Mine have not pilfered yet, nor yet impaired
My relish of fair prospect; scenes that soothed
Or charmed me young, no longer young, I find
Still soothing, and of power to charm me still.
And witness, dear companion of my walks,
Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive
Fast locked in mine, with pleasure such as love,
Confirmed by long experience of thy worth
And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire-
Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long.
Thou knowest my praise of nature most sincere,
And that my raptures are not conjured up
To serve occasions of poetic pomp,

BURAL SIGHTS; MOVING PLOUGH; THE OUSE; CATTLE; ELMS; HUT; HEDGE-ROWS; TOWER; BELFRY AND SPIRE; GROVES ; VILLAGES.

How oft upon yon eminence our pace

Has slackened to a pause, and we have borne
The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew,
While admiration, feeding at the eye,
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene.
Thence, with what pleasure have we just discerned
The distant plough slow moving, and beside
His laboring team, that swerved not from the track,
The sturdy swain diminished to a boy!
Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain
Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er,
Conducts the eye along his sinuous course
Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank,
Stand, never overlooked, our favorite elms,
That screen the herdsman's solitary hut;
While far beyond, and overthwart the stream,
That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale,
The sloping land recedes into the clouds;
Displaying on its varied side the grace
Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower,
Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells
Just undulates upon the listening ear,
Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote.
Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed,
Please daily, and whose novelty survives
Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years:
Praise justly due to those that I describe.

The dash of ocean on his winding shore,
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind;
Unnumbered branches waving in the blast,
And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once.
Nor less composure waits upon the roar
Of distant floods, or on the softer voice
Of neighboring fountain, or of rills that slip
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length
In matted grass, that with a livelier green
Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds,
But animated nature sweeter still,

To soothe and satisfy the human ear.
Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one
The live-long night: nor these alone, whose notes
Nice-fingered art must emulate in vain,

But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime
In still repeated circles, screaming loud,
The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl,
That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.
Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh,
Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns,
And only there, please highly for their sake.

THE WEATHER-HOUSE TOY.

Peace to the artist, whose ingenious thought
Devised the weather-house, that useful toy!
Fearless of humid air and gathering rains,
Forth steps the man- an emblem of myself!
More delicate his timorous mate retires.
When winter soaks the fields, and female feet,
Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay,
Or ford the rivulets, are best at home,
The task of new discoveries falls on me.

THE PEASANT'S NEST. ADVANTAGES AND INCONVENIENCES
OF SOLITUDE.

At such a season, and with such a charge,
Once went I forth; and found, till then unknown,
A cottage, whither oft we since repair :
'Tis perched upon the green hill-top, but close
Environed with a ring of branching elms,
That overhang the thatch, itself unseen
Peeps at the vale below; so thick beset
With foliage of such dark redundant growth,

I called the low-roofed lodge the Peasant's Nest.
And hidden as it is, and far remote
From such unpleasing sounds, as haunt the ear
In village or in town, the bay of curs
Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels,
And infants clamorous, whether pleased or pained,
Oft have I wished the peaceful covert mine.
Here, I have said, at least I should possess
The poet's treasure, silence, and indulge
The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure.
Vain thought! the dweller in that still retreat
Dearly obtains the refuge it affords.

Its elevated site forbids the wretch

To drink sweet waters of the crystal well;
He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch,
And, heavy laden, brings his beverage home,

Far fetched and little worth; nor seldom waits,
Dependent on the baker's punctual call,
To hear his creaking panniers at the door,
Angry and sad, and his last crust consumed.
So farewell envy of the Peasant's Nest !
If solitude make scant the means of life,
Society for me!-thou seeming sweet,
Be still a pleasing object in my view;
My visit still, but never mine abode.

THE DOUBLE ROW OF CHESTNUT-TREES.

Not distant far, a length of colonnade
Invites us. Monument of ancient taste,
Now scorned, but worthy of a better fate.
Our fathers knew the value of a screen
From sultry suns: and, in their shaded walks
And long-protracted bowers, enjoyed at noon
The gloom and coolness of declining day.
We bear our shades about us; self-deprived
Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread,
And range an Indian waste without a tree.
Thanks to Benevolus1- he spares me yet
These chestnuts ranged in corresponding lines;
And, though himself so polished, still reprieves
The obsolete prolixity of shade.

THE RUSTIC BRIDGE. THE MOLE AND HIS PLOTS.

Descending now (but cautious lest too fast)
A sudden steep, upon a rustic bridge
We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip
Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink.
Hence, ankle deep in moss and flowery thyme,
We mount again, and feel at every step
Our foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft,
Raised by the mole, the miner of the soil.
He, not unlike the great ones of mankind,
Disfigures earth and, plotting in the dark,
Toils much to earn a monumental pile,
That may record the mischiefs he has done.

THE LOOK-OUT. — CHEAP IMMORTALITY.

The summit gained, behold the proud alcove That crowns it! yet not all its pride secures The grand retreat from injuries impressed By rural carvers, who with knives deface The panels, leaving an obscure, rude name, In characters uncouth, and spelled amiss. So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself Beats in the breast of man, that e'en a few, Few transient years, won from the abyss abhorred Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize, And even to a clown.

AN ENGLISH PROSPECT DESCRIBED; SCENERY AROUND OLNEY;
SHEEP HAY-CART; WOODLANDS; ASH, LIME, BEECH.
Now roves the eye;

And posted on this speculative height,
Exults in its command. The sheepfold here
Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe.
At first, progressive as a stream, they seek

1 John Courtney Throckmorton, Esq., of Weston Underwood.

The middle field; but, scattered by degrees,
Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land.
There from the sunburnt hay-field homeward creeps
The loaded wain; while, lightened of its charge,
The wain that meets it passes swiftly by:
The boorish driver leaning o'er his team
Vociferous, and impatient of delay.

Nor less attractive is the woodland scene,
Diversified with trees of every growth,

Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks
Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine,
Within the twilight of their distant shades;
There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood
Seems sunk, and shortened to its topmost boughs.

FOREST TREES; WILLOW; POPLAR; ASH; ELM; OAK ;
MAPLE BEECH; LIME; SYCAMORE.

No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar; paler some,
And of a wannish gray; the willow such,
And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf,
And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm;
Of deeper green the elm; and deeper still,
Lord of the woods, the long-surviving oak.
Some glossy-leaved, and shining in the sun,
The maple, and the beech of oily nuts
Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve
Diffusing odors; nor unnoted pass
The sycamore, capricious in attire,
Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet
Have changed the woods, in scarlet honors bright.

THE OUSE.

O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map
Of hill and valley interposed between),
The Ouse, dividing the well-watered land,
Now glitters in the sun, and now retires,
As bashful, yet impatient to be seen.

Hence the declivity is sharp and short,
And such the reäscent; between them weeps
A little Naiad her impoverished urn
All summer long, which winter fills again.

THE THROCKMORTON ESTATE. AVENUES OF TREES.

The folded gates would bar my progress now, But that the lord of this enclosed demesne, Communicative of the good he owns,

Admits me to a share; the guiltless eye
Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys.
Refreshing change! where now the blazing sun?
By short transition we have lost his glare,
And stepped at once into a cooler clime.
Yet, fallen avenues! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice
That yet a remnant of your race survives.
How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the consecrated roof
Reechoing pious anthems! while beneath
The checkered earth seems restless as a flood
Brushed by the wind. So sportive is the light

1 See the foregoing note.