Sir Egerton Brydges’ “To Autumn, Near Her Departure”
To Autumn, Near Her Departure
Sir Egerton Brydges
THOU maid of gentle light! thy straw-wove vest,
And russet cincture; thy loose pale-tinged hair,
Thy melancholy voice, and languid air.
As if, shut up within that pensive breast,
Some ne’er-to-be-divulged grief was prest;
Thy looks resign’d, that smiles of patience wear,
While Winter’s blasts thy scatter’d tresses tear;
Thee, Autumn, with divinest charms have blest!
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.