Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1844-10-04

RY p. j. COOKE.

M P. p. COOKE. -
Summer has gone, - .---
And fruitful autumn has advanced so far
That there is warmth, not heat, in the broad sun
And you may look, with naked eye, upon $3.50
The ardors of his ear;
The stealthy frcsts, whom his spent looks ebolden
Are making the green leaves golden.
What brave splendor
Is IN the October air! How rich and clear,
And bracing, and all-joyous ! we must render
Love to the spring time, with itssproutngs tender,
As to child quite dear .ss.sy 3. e
But autumn is thing of perfect glory,
A manhood not yet hoary.
love the woods,
In this good season of the liberal year
love to seek their lcafy soEtudes,
And give myself to melancholy moods,
With no intruder near,
And find strange lessons, as sit and ponder,
On every natural wonder. ..
But not alone,
As Shakspeare's melancholy courtier loved Arden
nes,a
Love the browning forest; and own
Iwould not oft have unused, as he, but flown
To hunt with Amens- e...
And little thought, as up the bold deer bounded
Ofthe sad creature wounded.
A brave and good,
But worId-worn knight"-sou wearied with his
And built lodge and lived in Vanity wood,
To hear the belingt Hart
I It was gentle taste, but its sweet sadness
Yields to the Hunters madness.
What passionate .....
And keen delight is in the proud sweet chase,
Go out what time the lark at Heavens red gate
Scars joyously singing-quite infurate
With the high pride of his place
What time the unrisen sun arrays the morning
In its first bright adorning
Hark the quick horn
AS sweet to hear as any clarion
Piercing with silver cali the ear ofmorn;
And mark the steeds, stout CurtaI and Topthore
And Greystel and the Dou-
Each one of them his fiery mood displaying
With paving and with neighing.
Urge your swift horse,
After the crying hounds in this fresh hour,
Vanquished high hills: stemperiIous streams
perforce,
On the free plain give free wings to your course,
And you will know the power
Of the brave chase--and how of grief the sorest
A cure is in the forest.
Or stalks the deer;
The same red lip of dawn has kissed the hills,
The gaddest sounds are crowding on your ear,
There is life in all the atmosphere -
Your very nature fills
With the fresh hour, as up the hills aspiring
You climb with limbs untiring.
Is it fair
And goodly sight to see the antlered stag,
With the long sweep ofhis swift walk, repair
TO join his brothers; or the phethoric Bear
Lying on some high crag
With pinky eyes half closed, but broad head sha-
king,
As CAD flies keep him waking.
And these you sec,
And seeing them, you travel to their death,
With slow stealthy step from tree to tree,
Noting the wind, however faint it be.
The hunter draws breath
In times like these, which he will say repays him
For all care that waylays him.
A strong joy fills
(Ajoy beyond the tongues expressive power,)
My heart in autumn weather-flls and thrills!
And would rather stalk the breezy hills
Descending to my bower
Nightly, by the sweet spirit of Peace attended,
Than pine where life is splendid.
Sir Thomas Wortley. -. ......... ...
hare letter written by George Ellis Lock
Life Of Scott giving account Of Sir Thomas Wortley
and his reasons for building his lodge.