The Autumn-Spirit. Poem by William Billington

Now the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth, bedecked with symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign,
Makes us think about the season of the flowers with a sigh,
When life was lush in every tree-love laughed in every eye,
Whilst her lineaments of beauty were imprinted on the sod,
When the Spring with Winter wrestled, on that gala-day of God!
But the Spring is dead and buried, and the Summer's vital fire,
Like a heap of sullen embers, smoulders ready to expire;
For the Autumn-Spirit, reigning over mountain, vale and plain,
Robes the Earth in royal symbols emblematic of his reign!

Hark! a singing train of seraphim doth o'er its surface pass!
Mark! their flowing robes of flame have singed the green and speary grass!
Witness! every tender blade appeareth tipped and tinged with brown,
And the hedge is hemmed with rose-leaves, which their wings have shaken down,
Though the hind but hears the whirring of ten thousand pinions beat,
Sees a cloud of birds of passage trail its shadow by his feet,
For the pageantry of Heaven hath escaped his optics dim,
And he sees but birds of passage in the God-sent seraphim,
While the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

While his tread is on the mountain, through the valley and the plain,
Like some Fate-commissioned angel, Desolation tracks his train,
And the glory of the Summer and the beauty of the Spring
Form a carpet for his feet, a fading, weird, and worn-out thing!
And his wings distil an odour, as of corpses in perfume,
Warbled through his ghastly whispers sound the sighs of buried bloom,
And his accents are dim echoes from the hollow caves of Death,
And the wailing woods are withered by his cold and crisping breath,
For the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-spirit's reign!

Where the Poet loves to saunter in some unfrequented nook,
Or to sit and learn the language of the ever-babbling brook,
While its glassy surface mirrors the deep gulf of Heaven's blue,
Where the sunny cloud-ships, sailing, point to vapour lands in view,
There the river's creeks are mantled with red leaves and yellow foam,
And its broken banks are scattered with dead branches dipped in loam,
And a wail of desolation through the fading forest hums,
And the Winds grow chill by thinking of the Winter ere it comes,
While the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

Where the lily of the valley and the violet of the copse
Looked like Thoughts incorporated-like embodied youthful Hopes!
Where the golden-tubëd honeysuckle's pipes were interwound
With the ruddy-tinted roses breathing scented music round,
In the field or the forest, by the verdure-sheltered rills,
Where, in green and golden garments, Summer sate among the hills,
There the green is growing yellow, and the yellow turning sere,
And the Summer Sun, made mellow with the Autumn-Spirit's cheer,
Goeth reeling to his slumber every evening more soon,
While with nightly brighter lustre glows the silver-mantled Moon;
For the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the sanguine-featured Planet shows her forehead in the west,
While a sea of glowing silver rocks the god of day to rest,
And, above, a cloudy. canopy of purple tinged with gold
In its ruddy-flaming fringes doth the dying Day enfold,
And the drapery of Heaven is enwreathed around the brow
Of bright Eve, whose maiden blushes bathe the Earth in crimson glow,
And that orbëd angel, Vesper, in a flood of rosy light,
Laves her glowing limbs a, moment ere she ushers in the Night;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Evening wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the mellow-voicëd blackbird grows more plaintive in his tone,
And weird Fancy in its echo hears the Summer's dying groan,
While his tale of blissful sorrow doth the soul as much appal
As if some lost angel sang a song of Heaven e'er his fall;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the twilight wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the glow-worm in the coppice on the mossy bank doth lie,
Like a jewel that had fallen from Jove's palace in the sky,
Or a pebble, by some angel cast o'er Heaven's battlement,
That had kindled in its coming by the speed of its descent,
And with soft and saintly lustre gleams and glitters on the sod,
Like a pearl from Air's blue ocean in the garments of a God!
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Night is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the roar of distant rivers, through the midnight's ghostly gloom,
Utters prophecies of stillness, sadness, silence, and the tomb;
When strange minstrelsy is mingled with the boding forest-breath,
Like the music of an organ fingered by the hand of Death,
While, through sheen and shade, through dusky dells, and moon-illumined bowers,
Elves and fairies walk in mourning at the funeral of the Flowers,
And a death-dance of pale Shadows is performed around the tomb,
Where the yew-trees' sable crosses and the dark-green hollies gloom,
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the midnight wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the cloud-fiends dip their fingers in the purple blood of Dawn,
And ring Day's rising planet with a sanguine-cinctured zone,
Like a flame-enveloped vessel sailing in a sea of gore,
Then the sun through sanguine cloud-waves dim-red radiance down doth pour,
Which alarms the sleeping valleys, while their streams of purple mist,
Rising, wrap the blue hill-summits in a robe of amethyst,
And the hoar-frost and the sunlight, met upon the city spire,
Make it seem a glowing pyramid of mingled snow and fire,
And the trees all tinged with silver, and the buildings touched with white,
Show that Winter kissed the Earth beneath the canopy of Night;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Morn is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the nuts upon the hazels seem to burn within their husks,
Like that ring of sullen fire which Phoebe's shining forehead dusks-
Like the bodyguard of Cherubim which belts her bright abode
When Old Æolus, the Wind-God, sends his blustering sons abroad;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the bushes bear the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the clouds appear like phantoms from the castle-keep of Care,
And the sky looks pale and lurid as the forehead of Despair,
When the Lake appears to labour with the Mountain's mighty form,
Wombed within her glassy deeps, to be delivered by the Storm,
As a starry midnight Heaven, brooding full of unborn Thought,
Waits and watches for the Bard by whom deliverance is brought,
When the aspect of the hills becomes more solemn, still, and strange,
And all Nature seems prophetic of some dark and deadly change,
And the Earth looks up in agony as if her end were nigh,
Whilst sable clouds, like sepulchres, hang in the hollow sky;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the weather wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

When the whirlwinds rock the steeples, and the hurricane sweeps by,
And the frown of God hangs glooming in the tempest-laden sky,
Till a gleaming gulf of lightning lays the Heart of Heaven bare,
And the growls of prisoned Thunder hurtle through the darkened air,
Then the giant rocks are splintered, and the oaks are cloven down,
And the Alpine crags, unwintered, wear a fierce and fiery crown,
While the mingled wrath of Tempests upon mountain, vale and plain,
Dashes down a fiery deluge and a surging sea of rain,
Till the roads are turned to rivers, and the rivers turned to roads,
Where the wealth of golden harvest-shocks the rushing torrent loads,
And the roar of rushing rivers, mixed with Ocean's hollow boom,
In the language of the Angels seems to sing the Song of Doom;
Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain,
And the Storm is clad in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign!

But the golden grain is gathered, and the glowing fruit no more,
With its purple globes and crimson, makes the branches kiss the floor;
And, anon, by wizard Winter in a snowy mantle dressed,
Sleeping Nature will be pressing Death's pale image to her breast;
For the golden gorgeous splendours of the Summer have decayed,
And brown Autumn's ghostly garb is on the Earth's green shoulders laid,
While she bows in silent homage to that pale and pensive train
Of Stars, that smile down glory on the Autumn-Spirit's reign!