[The Seasons:] WINTER.

[ The Seasons : ] WINTER . SEE Winter comes , to rule the varied year , Sullen , and sad , with all his rising train , Vapours , and Clouds , and Storms . Be these my theme , These , that exalt the soul to solemn thought , And heavenly musing . Welcome , kindred glooms ! Cogenial horrors , hail ! with frequent foot , Pleas'd have I , in my chearful morn of life , When nurs'd by careless Solitude I liv'd , And sung of Nature with unceasing joy , Pleas'd have I wander'd thro' your rough domain ; Trod the pure virgin-snows , my self as pure Heard the winds roar , and the big torrent burst ; Or seen the deep , fermenting tempest brew'd In the red evening-sky . Thus pass'd the time , Till thro' the lucid chambers of the south Look'd out the joyous Spring , look'd out , and smil'd To thee , the patron of her first essay , The muse , O Wilmington ! renews her song . Since has she rounded the revolving Year ; Skim'd the gay Spring ; on eagle-pinions borne , Attempted thro' the Summer-blaze to rise ; Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale , And now among the Wintry clouds again , Roll'd in the doubling storm , she tries to soar ; To swell her note with all the rushing winds ; To suit her sounding cadence to the floods ; As is her theme , her numbers wildly great : Thrice happy ! could she fill thy judging ear With bold description , and with manly thought . For thee the Graces smooth ; thy softer thoughts The Muses tune ; nor art thou skill'd alone In awful schemes , the management of states , And how to make a mighty people thrive : But equal goodness ; sound integrity ; A firm , unshaken , uncorrupted soul , Amid a sliding age ; and burning strong , Not vainly blazing , for thy country's weal , A steady spirit , regularly free ; These , each exalting each , the statesman light Into the patriot ; and , the publick hope And eye to thee converting , bid the muse Record what envy dares not flattery call . When Scorpio gives to Capricorn the sway , And fierce Aquarius fouls th' inverted year ; Retiring to the verge of heaven , the sun Scarce spreads o'er other the dejected day . Faint are his gleams , and ineffectual shoot His struggling rays , in horizontal lines , Thro' the thick air ; as at dull distance seen , Weak , wan , and broad , he skirts the southern sky ; And , soon descending , to the long dark night , Wide-shading all , the prostrate world resigns . Nor is the night unwish'd ; while vital heat , Light , life , and joy the dubious day forsake . Mean-time , in sable cincture , shadows vast , Deep-ting'd , and damp , and congregated clouds , And all the vapoury turbulence of Heaven Involve the face of things . Thus Winter falls , A heavy gloom oppressive o'er the world , Thro' nature shedding influence malign , And rouses all the seeds of dark disease . The soul of man dies in him , loathing life , And black with horrid views . The cattle droop The conscious head ; and o'er the furrow'd land , Red from the plow , the dun discolour'd flocks , Untended spreading , crop the wholesome root . Along the woods , along the moorish fens . Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm ; And up among the loose , disjointed cliffs , And fractur'd mountains wild , the brawling brook , And cave , presageful , send a hollow moan , Resounding long in listening fancy's ear . Then comes the father of the tempest forth , Striding the gloomy blast . First rains obscure Drive thro' the mingling skies with vapour vile ; Dash on the mountain's brow , and shake the woods , That grumbling wave below . Th' unsightly plain Lies a brown deluge ; as the low-bent clouds Pour flood on flood , yet unexhausted still Combine , and deepening into night shut up The day's fair face . The wanderers of heaven , Each to his home , retire ; save those that love To take their pastime in the troubled air , Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool . The Cattle from th' untasted fields return , And ask , with meaning lowe , their wonted stalls , Or ruminate in the contiguous shade . Thither the houshold , feathery people crowd , The crested cock , with all his female train , Pensive , and wet . Mean-while the cottage-swain Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze , and taleful there Recounts his simple frolick : much he talks . And much he laughs , nor recks the storm that blows Without , and rattles on his humble roof . Wide o'er the brim , with many a torrent swell'd , And the mix'd ruins of its banks o'erspread , At last the rous'd-up river pours along , Resistless , roaring ; dreadful down it comes From the chapt mountain , and the mossy wild , Tumbling thro' rocks abrupt , and sounding far ; Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads , Calm , sluggish , silent ; till again constrain'd , Betwixt two meeting hills it bursts away , Where rocks , and woods o'erhang the turbid stream ; There gathering triple force , rapid , and deep , It boils , and wheels , and foams , and thunders thro' . Nature ! great parent ! whose continual hand Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year , How mighty , how majestie are thy works ! With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul ! That sees astonish'd ! and astonish'd sings ! Ye too , ye winds ! that now begin to blow , With boisterous sweep , I raise my voice to you . Where are your stores , ye subtil beings ! say , Where your aerial magazines reserv'd , Against the day of tempest perilous ? In what far-distant region of the sky , Hush'd in dead silence , sleep you when 'tis calm ? Late in the lowring sky , red , fiery streaks Begin to flush about ; the reeling clouds Stagger with dizzy poise , as doubting yet Which master to obey : while rising slow , Blank in the leaden-colour'd east , the moon Wears a wan circle round her sully'd orb . The stars obtuse emit a shivering ray ; Snatch'd in short eddies plays the fluttering straw ; Loud shrieks the soaring hern ; and , skreaming wild , The circling sea-fowl rise ; while from the shore , Eat into caverns by the restless wave , And forest-rustling mountain , comes a voice , That solemn-sounding bids the world prepare . Then issues forth the storm , with mad controul , And the thin fabrick of the pillar'd air O'erturns at once . Prone , on the passive main , Descends th' ethereal force , and with strong gust Turns from the bottom the discolour'd deep . Thro' the loud night , that bids the waves arise , Lash'd into foam , the fierce , conflicting brine Seems , as it sparkles , all around to burn . Mean-time whole oceans , heaving to the clouds , And in broad billows rolling gather'd seas , Surge over surge , burst in a general roar , And anchor'd navies from their stations drive , Wild as the winds athwart the howling waste Of mighty waters . Now the hilly wave Straining they scale , and now impetuous shoot Into the secret chambers of the deep , The full-blown Baltick thundering o'er their head . Emerging thence again , before the breath Of all-exerted heaven they wing their course , And dart on distant coasts ; if some sharp rock , Or sand insidious break not their career , And in loose fragments fling them floating round . Nor raging here alone unrein'd at sea , To land the tempest bears ; and o'er the cliff , Where screams the sea-mew , foaming unconfin'd , Fierce swallows up the long-resounding shore . The mountain growls ; and all its sturdy sons Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade . Lone on its midnight side , and all aghast , The dark , way-faring stranger breathless toils , And , often falling , climbs against the blast . Low waves the rooted forest , vex'd , and sheds What of its tarnish'd honours yet remain ; Dash'd down , and scatter'd , by the tearing wind's Assiduous fury , its gigantic limbs . Thus struggling thro' the dissipated grove , The whirling tempest raves along the plain ; And on the cottage thatch'd , or lordly roof , Keen-fastening , shakes them to the solid base . Sleep frighted flies ; and round the rocking dome , For entrance eager , howls the savage blast . Then too , they say , thro' all the burthen'd air , Long groans are heard , shrill sounds and distant sighs , That , utter'd by the Demon of the night , Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death . Huge uproar lords it wide . The clouds commix'd With stars swift-gliding sweep along the sky . All Nature reels . Till Nature's KING , who oft Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone , And on the wings of the careering wind Walks dreadfully serene , commands a calm ; Then straight air , sea , and earth are hush'd at once . As yet , 'tis midnight deep . The weary clouds , Slow-meeting , mingle into solid gloom . Now , while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep , Let me associate with the serious Night , And Contemplation her sedate compeer ; Let me shake off th'intrusive cares of day , And lay the meddling senses all aside . And now , ye lying vanities of life ! Ye ever-tempting , ever-cheating train ! Where are ye now ! and what is your amount ? Vexation , disappointment , and remorse . Sad , sickening thought ! and yet deluded Man , A scene of crude disjointed visions past , And broken slumbers , rises still resolv'd , With new-flush'd hopes , to run the giddy round . Father of light and life ! thou GOOD SUPREME ! O teach me what is good ! teach me THYSELF ! Save me from folly , vanity , and vice , From every low pursuit ! and feed my soul With knowledge , conscious peace , and virtue pure ; Sacred , substantial , never-fading bliss ! The keener tempests rise : and fuming dun From all the livid east , or piercing north , Thick clouds ascend ; in whose capacious womb A vapoury deluge lies , to snow congeal'd . Heavy they roll their fleecy world along ; And the sky saddens with the gather'd storm . Thro' the hush'd air the whitening shower descends , At first thin-wavering ; till at last the flakes Fall broad , and wide , and fast , dimming the day , With a continual flow . Sudden the fields Put on their winter-robe , of purest white . 'Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts , Along the mazy stream . The leafless woods Bow their hoar Heads . And , ere the languid sun Faint from the west emits his evening ray , Earth's universal face , deep-hid , and chill , Is one wild , dazzling waste . The labourer-ox Stands cover'd o'er with snow , and then demands The fruit of all his toil . The fowls of heaven , Tam'd by the cruel season , crowd around The winnowing store , and claim the little boon That Providence allows . The Red-breast sole , Wisely regardful of th' embroiling sky , In joyless fields , and thorny thickets , leaves His shivering fellows , and to trusted man His annual visit pays . New to the dome Against the window beats , then brisk alights On the warm hearth , and hopping o'er the floor Eyes all the smiling Family askance , And pecks , and starts , and wonders where he is ; Till more familiar grown , the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet . The foodless wilds Pour forth their brown inhabitants . The hare , Tho' timorous of heart , and hard beset By death in various forms , dark snares , and dogs , And more unpitying men , the garden seeks , Urg'd on by fearless want . The bleating kind Eye the bleak heaven , and next the glistening earth , With looks of dumb despair ; then sad , dispers'd , Dig for the whither'd herb thro' heaps of snow . Now , shepherds , to your helpless charge be kind , Baffle the raging year , and fill their pens With food at will ; lodge them below the storm , And watch them strict : for from the bellowing east , In this dire season , oft the whirlwind's wing Sweeps up the burthen of whole wintry plains In one wide waft , and o'er the hapless flocks , Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills , The billowy tempest whelms ; till upwards urg'd , The valley to a shining mountain swells , Tript with a wreath , high-curling in the sky . As thus the snows arise ; and foul , and fierce , All winter drives along the darken'd air ; In his own loose-revolving fields , the swain Disaster'd stands ; sees other hills ascend Of unknown joyless brow ; and other scenes , Of horrid prospect , shag the trackless plain : Nor finds the river , nor the forest , hid Beneath the white abrupt ; but wanders on From hill to dale , still more and more astray : Impatient flouncing thro' the drifted heaps , Stung with the thoughts of home ; the thoughts of home Rush on his nerves , and call their vigour forth In many a vain effort . How sinks his soul ! What black despair , what horror fills his heart ! When for the dusky spot , that fancy feign'd His tufted cottage rising thro the snow , He meets the roughness of the middle waste , Far from the tract , and blest abode of man : While round him night resistless closes fast , And every tempest , howling o'er his head , Renders the savage wilderness more wild . Then throng the busy shapes into his mind , Of cover'd pits , unfathomably deep , A dire descent ! beyond the power of frost , Of faithless boggs ; of precipices huge , Smooth'd up with snow ; and , what is land unknown , What water , of the still unfrozen eye , In the loose marsh , or solitary lake , Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils . These check his fearful steps ; and down he sinks Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift , Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death , Mix'd with the tender anguish nature shoots Thro' the wrung bosom of the dying man , His wife , his children , and his friends unseen . In vain for him th' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing , and the vestment warm ; In vain his little children , peeping out Into the mingling rack , demand their sire , With tears of artless innocence . Alas ! Nor wife , nor children more shall he behold , Nor friends , nor sacred home . On every nerve , The deadly winter seizes ; shuts up sense ; And , o'er his stronger vitals creeping cold , Lays him along the snows , a stiffen'd corse , Unstretch'd , and bleaching in the northern blast . Ah little think the gay licentious proud , Whom pleasure , power , and affluence surround ; They , who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth , And wanton , often cruel , riot waste ; Ah little think they , while they dance along , How many feel this very moment , death And all the sad variety of pain . How many sink in the devouring flood , Or more devouring flame . How many bleed , By shameful variance betwixt man and man . How many pine in want , and dungeon glooms ; Shut from the common air , and common use Of their own limbs . How many drink the cup Of baleful grief , or eat the bitter bread Of misery . Sore pierc'd by wintry winds , How many shrink into the fordid hut Of chearless poverty . How many shake With all the fiercer tortures of the mind , Unbounded passion , madness , guilt , remorse ; Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life , They furnish matter for the tragic muse . Even in the vale , where Wisdom loves to dwell , With Friendship , Peace , and Contemplation join'd , How many , rackt with honest passions , droop In deep retir'd distress . How many stand Around the death-bed of their dearest friends , Like wailing pensive ghosts awaiting theirs , And point the parting pang . Thought but fond man Of these , and all the thousand nameless ills , That one incessant struggle render life , One scene of toil , of anguish , and of fate , Vice in his high career would stand appall'd , And heedless rambling impulse learn to think ; The conscious heart of Charity would warm , And his wide wish Benevolence dilate ; The social tear would rise , the social sigh ; And into clear perfection , gradual bliss , Refining still , the social passions work . And here can I forget the generous few , Who , touch'd with human woe , redressive sought Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ? Unpitied , and unheard , where Misery moans ; Where Sickness pines ; where Thirst and Hunger burn , And poor Misfortune feels the lash of Vice . While in the land of liberty , the land Whose every street , and public meeting glows With open freedom , little tyrants rag'd : Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth ; Tore from cold , wintry limbs the tatter'd robe ; Even robb'd them of the last of comforts , sleep ; The free-born Briton to the dungeon chain'd , Or , as the lust of cruelty prevail'd , At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes ; And crush'd out lives , by various nameless ways , That for their country would have toil'd , or bled . Hail patriot-band ! who , scorning secret scorn , When Justice , and when Mercy led the way , Dragg'd the detected monsters into light , Wrench'd from their hand Oppression's iron rod , And bade the cruel feel the pains they gave . Yet stop not here , let all the land rejoice , And make the blessing unconfin'd , as great . Much still untouch'd remains ; in this rank age , Much is the patriot's weeding hand requir'd . The toils of law , ( what dark insidious men Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth , And lengthen simple justice into trade ) Oh glorious were the day ! that saw these broke , And every man within the reach of right . Yet more outragious is the season still , A deeper horror , in Siberian wilds ; Where Winter keeps his unrejoicing court , And in his airy hall the loud misrule Of driving tempest is for ever heard . There thro' the ragged woods absorpt in snow , Sole tenant of these shades , the shaggy bear , With dangling ice all horrid , stalks forlorn ; Slow-pac'd and sourer as the storms increase , He makes his bed beneath the drifted snow ; And , scorning the complainings of distress . Hardens his heart against assailing want . While tempted vigorous o'er the marble waste . On sleds reclin'd , the furry Russian sits ; And , by his rain-deer drawn , behind him throws A shining kingdom in a winter's day . Or from the cloudy Alps , and Appenine , Capt with grey mists , and everlasting snows ; Where nature in stupendous rain lies , And from the leaning rock , on either side , Gush out those streams that classic song renowns : Cruel as death , and hungry as the grave ! Burning for blood ! bony , and ghaunt , and grim ! Assembling wolves in torrent troops descend ; And , pouring o'er the country , bear along , Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow . All is their prize . They fasten on the steed , Press him to earth , and pierce his mighty heart . Nor can the bull his awful front defend . Or shake the murdering savages away . Rapacious , at the mother's throat they fly And tear the screaming infant from her breast . The godlike face of man avails him nought . Even beauty , force divine ! at whose bright glance The generous lyon stands in soften'd gaze , Here bleeds , a hapless , undistinguish'd prey . But if , appriz'd of the severe attack , The country be shut up , lur'd by the scent , On church-yards drear ( inhuman to relate ! ) The disappointed prowlers fall , and dig The shrowded body from the tomb ; o'er which , Mix'd with foul shades , and frighted ghosts , they howl . Now , all amid the rigours of the year , In the wild depth of Winter , while without The ceaseless winds blow ice , be my retreat , Between the groaning forest and the shore , Beat by a boundless multitude of waves , A rural , shelter'd , solitary , scene ; Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join , To chase the cheerless gloom . There let me sit , And hold high converse with the mighty dead ; Sages of antient time , as gods rever'd , As gods beneficent , who blest mankind With arts , and arms , and humaniz'd a world . Rous'd at th' inspiring thought , I throw aside The long-liv'd volume ; and , deep-musing , hail The sacred shades , that slowly-rising pass Before my wondering eyes . — First Socrates , Whose simple question to the folded heart Stole unperceiv'd , and from the maze of thought Evolv'd the secret truth — a god-like man ! Solon the next , who built his common-weal On equity's wide base . Lycurgus then , Severely good ; and him of rugged Rome , Numa , who soften'd her rapacious sons . Cimon sweet-soul'd , and Aristides just ; With that attemper'd Timoleon . Hero , mild , and firm , Who wept the brother while the tyrant bled . Unconquer'd Cato , virtuous in extreme . Scipio , the human warrior , gently brave ; Who soon the race of spotless glory ran , And , warm in youth , to the poetic shade , With friendship , and philosophy , retir'd . And , equal to the best , the Pelopidas and Epaminondas . Theban twain , Who , single rais'd their country into fame . Thousands behind , the boast of Greece and Rome , Whom Virtue owns , the tribute of a verse Demand ; but who can count the stars of heaven ? Who sing their influence on this lower world ? But see who yonder comes ! in sober state , Fair , mild , and strong , as is a vernal sun : 'Tis Phoebus self , or else the Mantuan swain ! Great Homer too appears , of daring wing , Parent of song ! and equal by his side , The British muse ; join'd hand in hand they walk , Darkling , full up the middle steep to fame . Nor absent are those tuneful Shades , I ween , Taught by the Graces , whose inchanting touch Shakes every passion from the various string ; Nor those , who solemnize the moral scene . First of your kind ! society divine ! Still visit thus my nights , for you reserv'd , And mount my soaring soul to deeds like yours . Silence , thou lonely power ! the door be thine ; See on the hallow'd hour that none intrude , Save Lycidas the friend , with sense refin'd , Learning digested well , exalted faith , Unstudy'd wit , and humour ever gay . Or from the muses hill will Pope descend , To raise the sacred hour , to make it smile , And with the social spirit warm the heart : For tho' not sweeter his own Homer sings , Yet is his life the more endearing song . Thus in some deep retirement would I pass The winter-glooms , with friends of various turn , Or blithe , or solemn , as the theme inspir'd : With them would search , if this unbounded frame Of nature rose from unproductive night , Or sprung eternal from th' eternal Cause , Its springs , its laws , its progress and its end . Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole Would gradual open on our opening minds ; And each diffufive harmony unite , In full perfection , to th' astonish'd eye . Thence would we plunge into the moral world ; Which , tho' more seemingly perplex'd , moves on In higher order ; fitted , and impell'd , By Wisdom's finest hand , and issuing all In universal good . Historic truth Should next conduct thro' the deeps of time : Point us how empire grew , revolv'd , and fell , In scatter'd states ; what makes the nations smile , Improves their soil , and gives them double suns ; And why they pine beneath the brightest skies , In nature's richest lap . As thus we talk'd , Our hearts would burn within us , would inhale That portion of divinity , that ray Of purest heaven , which lights the glorious flame Of patriots , and of heroes . But if doom'd , In powerless humble fortune , to repress These ardent risings of the kindling soul ; Then , even superior to ambition , we Would learn the private virtues ; how to glide Thro' shades and plains , along the smoothest stream Of rural life : or snatch'd away by hope , Thro' the dim spaces of futurity , With earnest eye anticipate those scenes Of happiness , and wonder ; where the mind , In endless growth and infinite ascent , Rises from state to state , and world to world . And when with these the serious soul is foil'd , We , shifting for relief , would play the shapes Of frolic fancy ; and incessant form Unnumber'd pictures , fleeting o'er the brain . Yet rapid still renew'd , and pour'd immense Into the mind , unbounded without space : The great , the new , the beautiful ; or mix'd , Burlesque , and odd , the risible and gay ; Whence vivid Wit , and Humour , droll of face , Call laughter forth , deep-shaking every nerve . Mean-time the village rouzes up the sire ; While well attested , and as well believ'd , Heard solemn , goes the goblin-story round ; Till superstitious horror creeps o'er all . Or , frequent in the sounding hall , they wake The rural gambol . Rustic mirth goes round : The simple joke that takes the shepherd's heart , Easily pleas'd ; the long loud laugh , sincere ; The kiss , snatch'd hasty from the sidelong maid , On purpose guardless , or pretending sleep ; The leap , the slap , the haul ; and , shook to notes Of native music , the respondent dance . Thus jocund fleets with them the winter-night . The city swarms intense . The public haunt , Full of each theme , and warm with mixt discourse , Hums indistinct . The sons of riot flow Down the loose stream of false inchanted joy , To swift destruction . On the rankled soul The gaming fury falls ; and in one gulph Of total ruin , honour , virtue , peace , Friends , families , and fortune headlong sink . Rises the dance along the lighted dome , Mix'd , and evolv'd , a thousand sprightly ways . The glittering court effuses every pomp ; The circle deepens ; rain'd from radiant eyes , A soft effulgence o'er the palace waves : While , thick as insects in the summer-shine , The fop , light-fluttering , spreads his mealy wings . Dread o'er the scene the ghost of Hamlet stalks ; Othello rages ; poor Monimia mourns ; And Belvidera pours her soul in love . Assenting terror shakes ; the silent tear Steals o'er the cheek : or else the comic Muse Holds to the world the picture of itself , And raises sly the fair impartial laugh . Clear frost succeeds ; and thro' the blue serene , For sight too fine , th' ethereal nitre flies : Killing infectious damps , and the spent air Storing afresh with elemental life . Close crowds the shining atmosphere ; and binds Our strengthen'd bodies in its cold embrace , Constringent ; feeds , and animates our blood ; Refines our spirits , thro' the new-strung nerves , In swifter fallies darting to the brain ; Where sits the soul , intense , collected cool , Bright as the skies , and as the season keen . All nature feels the renovating force Of Winter only to the thoughtless eye In desolation seen . The vacant glebe Draws in , abundant vegetable soul , And gathers vigour for the coming year . A strong glow sits on the lively cheek Of ruddy fire : and luculent along The purer rivers flow ; their sullen deeps , Amazing , open to the shepherd's gaze , And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost . What art thou , Frost ? and whence are thy keen stores Deriv'd , thou secret all-invading Power , Whom even th' illusive fluid cannot fly ? Is not thy potent energy , unseen , Myriads of little salts , or hook'd , or shap'd Like double wedges , and diffus'd immense Thro' water , earth and ether ? Hence at eve , Steam'd eager from the red horizon round , With the still rage of Winter deep suffus'd , An icy gale , oft shifting , o'er the pool Breathes a blue film , and in its mid career Arrests the bickering stream . The loosen'd ice , Let down the flood , and half-dissolv'd by day , Rustles no more ; but to the sedgy bank Fast grows , or gathers round the pointed stone , A crystal pavement , by the breath of heaven Cemented firm ; till seiz'd from shore to shore , The whole detruded river growls below . Loud rings the frozen earth , and hard reflects A double noise ; while , at his evening watch , The village-dog deters the nightly thief ; The heifer lows ; the distant water-fall Swells in the breeze , and , with the hasty tread Of traveller , the many sounding plain Shakes from afar . The full ethereal round , Infinite worlds disclosing to the view , Shines out intensely keen ; and , all one cope Of starry glitter , glows from pole to pole . From pole to pole the rigid influence falls , Thro' the still night , incessant , heavy , strong , And seizes nature fast . It freezes on ; Till morn , late rising o'er the drooping world , Lifts her pale eye unjoyous . Then appears The various labour of the silent night : Prone from the dripping eave , and dumb cascade , Whose idle torrents only seem to roar , The pendant isicle ; the frost-work fair , Where transient hues , and fancy'd figures rise ; The liquid kingdom all to solid turn'd ; Wide-spouted o'er the brow , the frozen brook , A livid tract , cold gleaming on the morn ; The forest bent beneath the plumy wave ; And by the frost refin'd the whiter snow , Incrusted hard , and sounding to the tread Of early shepherd , as he pensive seeks His pining flock , or from the mountain-top , Pleas'd with the slippery surface , swift descends . On blithesome frolicks bent , the youthful swains , While every work of man is laid at rest , Fond o'er the river rush , and shuddering view The doubtful deeps below . Or where the lake And long canal the cerule plain extend , The city pours her thousands , swarming all , From every quarter ; and , with him who slides ; Or skating sweeps , swift as the winds , along , In circling poise ; or else disorder'd falls , His feet , illuded , sprawling to the sky , While the laugh rages round ; from end to end , Encreasing still , resounds the crowded scene . Pure , quick , and sportful , is the wholesome day ; But soon elaps'd . The horizontal sun , Broad o'er the south , hangs at his utmost noon ; And , ineffectual , strikes the gelid cliff . The mountain still his azure gloss maintains , Nor feels the feeble touch . Perhaps the vale Relents a while to the reflected ray ; Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow , Myriads of gem , that , by the breeze diffus'd , Gay-twinkle thro' the gleam . Heard thick around , Thunders the sport of those , who , with the gun , And dog impatient bounding at the shot , Worse than the season , desolate the fields ; And , adding to the ruins of the year , Distress the footed , or the feather'd game . But what is this ? these infant tempests what ? The mockery of Winter : should our eye Astonish'd shoot into the frozen zone ; Where more than half the joyless year is night ; And , failing gradual , life at last goes out . There undissolving , from the first of time , Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky ; And icy mountains there , on mountains pil'd , Seem to the shivering sailor from afar , Shapeless , and white , an atmosphere of clouds . Projected huge , and horrid , o'er the main , Alps frown on Alps ; or rushing hideous down , As if old Chaos was again return'd , Shake the firm pole , and make an ocean boil . Whence heap'd abrupt along the howling shore , And into various shapes ( as fancy leans ) Work'd by the wave , the crystal pillars heave , Swells the blue portico , the gothic dome Shoots fretted up ; and birds , and beasts , and men , Rise into mimic life , and sink by turns . The restless deep itself cannot resist The binding fury ; but in all its rage Of tempest taken by the boundless frost , Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd , And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse , Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks , chearless , and void Of every life , that from the dreary months Flies conscious southward . Miserable they ! Who , here entangled in the gathering ice , Take their last look of the descending sun ; While , full of death , and fierce with tenfold frost , The long long night , incumbent o'er their head , Falls horrible . Such was the Sir Hugh Willoughby , sent by Queen Elizabeth to discover the north-east passage . Briton's fate , As with first prow , ( What have not Britons dar'd ! ) He for the passage sought , attempted since So much in vain , and seeming to be shut By jealous nature with eternal bars . In these fell regions , in Arzina caught , And to the stony deep his idle ship Immediate seal'd , he with his hapless crew , Each full exerted at his several task , Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued The sailor , and the pilot to the helm . Hard by these shores , the last of mankind live ; And , scarce enliven'd by the distant sun , ( That rears and ripens man , as well as plants ) Here Human Nature just begins to dawn . Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves , Here by dull fires , and with unjoyous chear , They wear the tedious gloom . Immers'd in furs , Lie the gross race . Nor sprightly jest , nor song , Nor tenderness they know ; nor ought of life , Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without . Till long-expected morning looks at length Faint on their fields ( where Winter reigns alone ) And calls the quiver'd savage to the chase . Muttering , the winds at eve , with hoarser voice Blow blustering from the south . The frost subdu'd , Gradual , resolves into a trickling thaw . Spotted the mountains shine ; loose sleet descends , And floods the country round . The rivers swell , Impatient for the day . Broke from the hills , O'er rocks and woods , in broad brown cataracts , A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once ; And , where they rush , the wide-resounding plain Is left one slimy waste . Those sullen seas , That wash th' ungenial pole , will rest no more Beneath the shackles of the mighty north ; But , rousing all their waves , resistless heave — And hark ! the lengthening roar continuous runs Athwart the rifted main : at once it bursts , And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds . Ill fares the bark , the wretch's last resort , That , lost amid the floating fragments , moors Beneath the shelter of an icy isle , While night o'erwhelms the sea , and horror looks More horrible . Can human force endure Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round : Heart-gnawing hunger , fainting weariness , The roar of winds and waves , the crush of ice , Now ceasing , now renew'd with louder rage , And in dire echoes bellowing round the main . More to embroil the deep , Leviathan , And his unwieldy train , in horrid sport , Tempest the loosen'd brine ; while thro' the gloom ; Far , from the bleak inhospitable shore , Loading the winds , is heard the hungry howl Of famish'd monsters , there awaiting wrecks . Yet Providence , that ever-waking eye , Looks down with pity on the fruitless toil Of mortals lost to hope , and lights them safe , Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of fate . 'Tis done ! — dread Winter has subdu'd the year , And reigns tremendous o'er the desart plains . How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends His solitary empire . Here , fond man ! Behold thy pictur'd life ; pass some few years , Thy flowering Spring , thy Summer's ardent strength , Thy sober Antumn fading into age , And pale concluding Winter comes at last , And shuts the scene . Ah ! whither now are fled , Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? Those restless cares ? those busy bustling days ? Those gay-spent , festive nights ? those veering thoughts , Lost between good and ill , that shar'd thy life ? All now are vanish'd ! Virtue sole survives , Immortal , mankind's never-failing friend , His guide to happiness on high . — And fee ! 'Tis come , the glorious morn ! the second birth Of heaven , and earth ! Awakening nature hears The new-creating word , and starts to life , In every heighten'd form , from pain and death For ever free . The great eternal scheme , Involving all , and in a perfect whole Uniting , as the prospect wider spreads , To reason's eye refin'd clears up apace . Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presuming ! now , Confounded in the dust , adore that Power , And Wisdom oft arraign'd : see now the cause , Why unassuming Worth in secret liv'd , And dy'd , neglected : why the good man's share In life was gall , and bitterness of soul : Why the lone widow , and her orphans pin'd , In starving solitude ; while Luxury , In palaces , lay prompting his low thought , To form unreal wants : why heaven-born Truth , And Moderation fair , wore the red marks Of Superstition's scourge : why licens'd Pain , That cruel spoiler , that embosom'd foe , Imbitter'd all our bliss . Ye good distrest ! Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand Beneath life's pressure , yet a little while , And what you reckon evil is no more ; The storms of Wintry time will quickly pass , And one unbounded SPRING encircle all . The END