Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/131

Rh  —Fair, rural scene, Wilt thou not smile once more?—No, darker throngs Prolong the fierce encounter in the skies, And heaven's gate trembles.—But thou soon shalt drink The sun-beam,—and yon elemental war Leave not a trace of sorrow.—Is it thus With man's contentions?—Ask the carnaged field, The writhing form,—the widow's lonely heart.— —Methinks this summer scenery, in its garb Of brief adversity, admonishes The musing mind.—Meekly it shadows forth The landscape of our pilgrimage.—Rough blasts Scatter our foliage, crush our cherish'd flowers, And hollow thunders wake our bosom'd joys To sudden flight.—But then through parting clouds The sun of Mercy beams, leading the eye Upward, and by a Father's discipline Instructing the sad heart.

 

Roll on, proud river, towards the mighty main, And glow, gay shores, with summer's fostering smile, Your grandeur charms, your beauties lure in vain The traveller's eye from yonder ancient pile.

For there in solitary state it stands, While sheltering boughs involve its time-worn frame, The earliest temple rear'd by christian hands To teach a heathen world Jehovah's name. 