Let blooming Spring with gaudy hopes delight,

That dazzling Summer shall of her be born;

Let Summer blaze, and Winter’s stormy train

Breathe awful music in the ear of night;

Thee will I court, sweet dying maid forlorn,

And from thy glance will catch th’ inspired strain.

Sir Egerton Brydges, 1762–1837.

AUTUMN.

ODE.

I.