The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1829-10-08
MISCELLANY.
PROM THE cATsKILL RECORDER.
AUTUMN.


Iinger then yet awhile
As the last leaves on the bough,
Ye have loved the CLEAN of many a smile
That is taken from you now
Mas. HEMANs.
Had we the tender and pathetic expires
sion Of Bryant 10 clothe our musings, we
would dwell long and thrilllngly upon the
lessons taught so forcibIy, in the advent OF
sober suited Autumn. Coldly indeed must
he look upon nature and her changes, who
does not find luxury Of sentime ut IN the
contemplation oi all her seasons. All are
but chords 10 that instrument which yields
its tone to every breath of man, and vlbrates
Involuntary to every feeling OF his breast.
In the SPRING. the fairy melody is made up
OF the unnngled warblIng of rapture, the
involuntary trllls Of untaughr fingers, the
oyerflowings Of that spring Of gladness,
which gave mythology heriabled fountains,
and from which issues all that claims the
name of music, short Of the yoIceless har
mony OF Heaven. In Summer, it Is mel
lowe into the harmony Of hope. The
voice which never mourned rs heard ~ its
rich dlapasons; its glowing progressIons
nre tempered to the calmness of matured
desire !; its echoes are unbroken BY the lr
regular responses of untutered passion, and
its deep and ever varying cOsonances
chime, swell, and estuate, IN infinite grad
alton.
Beautifully though sadly the reverse Of
these is the style of Autumn's "unwrltten
music" The hope Of the glad Spring and
the devotion Of the ardent Summer, have
been damped, but not to deaden n single
tone The chords on which once played The
breath OF the affections, are strained, but
not to break. The mind is no longer q
mighty organ yielding Its soundst to the hand
OF man; but becomes gentle Holian harp,
catching its maglck tones from every
breath Of the Autumnal breeze. PlaInlve
and sweet, as though sound itself had
caught charm from the beautiful hues Of
decay, they come upon the ear, blending
into harmony such strains as no art can
initiate, no science arrange, no skill record
Such Is the music of Autumn, upon that
a, ep toned glorious lnstrumcnt--the heart.
The grave comes gloomily upon the
thoughts of youth. They have not yet
buried there the better par, of their hearts
To the pilgrim who has farther advanced
on the highway of human dlsappoIntmcn,g,
the last home OF man Is welcome theme.
Lovely to him,not only that 1t already holds
his best hopes and his only charms that
made the world fair amid all its dosoatIon,
the gruyc--the cold g. dreary grave sends
up sweet and holy call to his weary and
broken spirit. All that speaks OF decay
has charm to him No marvel then that
he woos tbc melancholy influence Of An
tumn,and breathcs with untold delight her
eighlng brcezes. and settles and unwcarled
gaze upon her red and yellow forests
let childhood hang with enraptured fond
ness over the brilliant beauty of Springs
first nowers but It's little idols will wthcr
Let maturcr youth yield It's fell devotion to
the fruitful and fcrvcnt hopes OF Summer;
yet they too shall pass away, But who
That has ever relIshed the calm yet passion
ate love Of fading beauty which steals up
on the unsuhdued though soilcncd spirit Of
one whose hopes have been like the sum
mcr cloud will cling tn such tltctIng hues a
gam. There is an autumn m the aoul, where
all these images are mrrored deep and IN
dehble Even the winter age, though IT
whers the outer form. can never suppant
the sweetly lingering hues of Autumn in
the soul. They cling TO the memory long
or than hope, and the memory itself rs
life. q.