I 
THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 
I’ve watch’d, as eve led on the solemn night, 
Star after star gleam forth with modest light. 
Till, holder grown, as more and more advance. 
All heaven hath seem’d with one great joy to dance. 
Soon, as hy magic led, dark clonds approach. 
With envious haste, and on the stars encroach; 
With deepening gloom, they fast and faster come, 
Join in one hand, and cover all the dome. 
As droops my head, in disappointment sore, 
I heave a sigh for one more pleasure o’er. 
The clouds in pity seem my grief to view. 
Part their dark folds, and let one star shine through. 
It hlinks a moment, then creeps hack again; 
I close my curtain, and no more complain. 
So Nature, viewing, as the Autumn led. 
One after one, her favorite blossoms fled. 
Saw the dead leaves o’er grove and valley lie. 
Watch’d in her arms, the last pale Aster die. 
Hung her wild harp upon a leafless tree. 
And listened to its mournful melody. 
The earth in pity heard the sad lament. 
And to her arms this lovely blossom sent. 
With fringes dipped in that imperial dye. 
Which she had borrowed from the clear cold sky. 
Nature beheld with joy the golden flashes 
* 
Smile brightly on her through their trembling lashes. 
With grateful heart, the lone sweet flower she blest. 
Then laid her down beneath the snows to rest, 
( 41 ) 
