49 The Natural History of Selborne 



The yellow maple mourns in sickly hue, 

 And russet woodlands crowd the darkening view. 

 Dim, clustering fogs involve the country round, 

 The valley and the blended mountain ground 

 Sink in confusion; but with tempest-wing 

 Should Boreas from his northern barrier spring, 

 The rushing woods with deafning clamour roar, 

 Like the sea tumbling on the pebbly shore. 

 When spouting rains descend in torrent tides, 

 See the torn Zigzag weep its channeled sides : 

 Winter exerts its rage : heavy and slow, 

 From the keen east rolls on the treasured snow ; 

 Sunk with its weight the bending boughs are seen, 

 And one bright deluge whelms the works of men. 

 Amidst this savage landscape, bleak and bare, 

 Hangs the chill hermitage in middle air ; 

 Its haunts forsaken, and its feasts forgot, 

 A leaf-strown, lonely, desolated cot ! 



Is this the scene that late with rapture rang, 

 Where Delphy danfd, and gentle Anna sang ; 

 With fairy-step where Harriet tripp'd so late, 

 And on her stump reclined the musing Kitty sate? 

 Return, dear nymphs ; prevent the purple spring, 

 Ere the soft nightingale essays to sing; 

 Ere the first swallow sweeps the freshening plain, 

 Ere love-sick turtles breathe their amorous pain 

 Let festive glee ttf enlivened village raise, 

 Pan's blameless reign, and patriarchal days ; 

 With pastoral dance the smitten swain surprise, 

 And bring all Arcady before our eyes. 



Return, blithe maidens; with you bring along 

 Free, native humour, all the charms of song, 

 The feeling heart, and unaffected ease, 

 Each nameless grace, and ev'ry power to please. 

 Nov. i, 1763. 



