Save him whom Nature to some far-sought wild
Has led, anointed as her chosen child,
And made her sacred care.
Where'er the breezes roam,
The mountains soar, or ocean's wave is thrown,
The poet's spirit, free as Nature's own,
Finds for itself a home!
No. IX.—AUTUMN, IN ITS FIRST ASPECT.
The orchard's plenteous store,