The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1856-1888, 1876-12-30
Hymn of the Seasons.
BY JAMES THOMPSON.

These they change, Almighty Father these
Are bat The varied God. The rolling year
u fan Of thee Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love
Vide Hush the heids the softening air Is balm
Echo the mountains round the fOrest smiles
And every sense and every heart, is JOY.
Then comes the glory in the summer mouths
With light and heat refuigent. Then the sun
Shoots fnll perfection through the swelling year;
And of Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks,
And of at dawn, deep noon, falling eve,
By brooks aud groves, in holO9- whispering gges-
Thy bounty shines ia autumn uneonnned,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In winler ayF full thou with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest Ger tempest rolled,
Majestic darkness On the whiriwind's wing
Riding sublime, thou bid'st the world adore,
And humblest natGSe with thy northern blast
Mysterious rounds what skill, what force divine
Deep felt, in these appear a simple train,
Yet delightful mixed, with such kind art,
such beauty and beneheence combined
Shade, unpeTeeived softening into shade
And all 90 forming an harmonious whole;
That. they stin succeed, they rayish still.
But wandering off, with brute unconscious gaze.
That ever busy, wheels the silent spheres;
Works in the secret deepi shoots, steaning, thence
The fair profusOn that o'erspreads the spring
Filings from the sun direct the flaming day
Feeds every creature ; hurIs the tempest forth
And, earth this grateful change revoves,
With transport touches all the springs Of life
Nature, attend join every living soul,
Beneath the spacious temple Of the sky,
la alteration Join ; and, ardent raise
One general song To him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft whose spirit In your freshness breathes
o. talk og him In solitary gloOms
Where, Ger the rock, the scarcely waving pine
brown
A nd ye, whose bolder note Is heard alar,
Who shake the astonshed world lift high to heaven
The impetuOus song, and say from whom you rage.
His praise, ye brooks, attune ye trembling Tills
And let me catch ii as L muse along.
Ye headloug torrents, rapid and profound
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale and thou, majestic main,
A world Of wonders in thyself,
Or bids you roar or bids your Foarngs fall.
son roll your incense herbs, and fruits and howers,
In mingled clouds 10 him, whose sun exalts,
Whose breath and whose pencil paints
Ye forests bend, ye haryests wave, to him
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye GhaI keep watch ia heaven, as earth asleep
Ye considerations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangIed sky, the silver Tyre.
Great source Of day best image kere below
OF Thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world world, the vital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam his praise
The thunder rolls be hushed the PROSTATE world
While cloud cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye bills ye messy rocks,
Retain the sound the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys. raises for the great shepherd reigns.
And his unsufering kingdom yet win come
Ye woodlands all, awake a bouudIess song
Burst from the groves and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the TaEbling world asleep.
sweetest of birds sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades, and teach the night his praise
Xe chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue Of all,
Crown the great hymn in swarming cities vast,
Assembled TO the deep organ join
The ug-resounding voice, oft breaking clear.
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass
And as each mingng flame increases each,
In united ardor rise 10 heaven
Or If you rather choose the rural shade,
A nd ind a fame in every sacred grove,
There let the shepherds flute, the virgins lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poets Tyre,
,tiIl sing the God Of seasons, as they roll
For me, when forget the darling theme,
Whether ,he blossom blows, the summer ray
4u5sets the plain, inspiring autumn CLEANS,
Dr. winter rises In the blackeDiug east,
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
Ind, dead 20 Joy, forget my heart 10 beat!
Should fate command me 20 the hrthest verge
)f the green earth TO distant barbarous climes,
rivers unknown TO song,-where first the sun
lids Indian mountains, or his setting beam
lanes the Pacific ises,-'t is naught 10 me
ince God Is ever present, ever felt,
n the void waste, as in the city fall
nj where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
When at last the solemn hour shall come,
md wing my mystic flight TO future worlds,
cheerful viii obey there, with new powers,
vim rising wonders sing cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around
ustaining all yon orbs and all their suns
rom seeming evil still educing good,
md better thence again. and better still,
n infinite progression. But lose
Iyself in him, in light ineffable!
Ome then, expressive Silence, muse his praise.