ELEGY. WRITTEN AT THE APPROACH OF WINTER. John Scott Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 265-268. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ELEGY . WRITTEN AT THE APPROACH OF WINTER . BY THE SAME . THE sun far southward bends his annual way , The bleak north-east wind lays the forest bare , The fruit ungather'd quits the naked spray , And dreary Winter reigns o'er earth and air . No mark of vegetable life is seen , No bird to bird repeats his tuneful call ; Save the dark leaves of some rude ever-green , Save the lone red-breast on the moss-grown wall , Where are the sprightly scenes by Spring supply'd , The May-flower'd hedges scenting every breeze ; The white flocks scattering o'er the mountain side , The woodlarks warbling on the blooming trees ? Where is gay Summer's sportive insect train , That in green fields on painted pinions play'd ; The herd at morn wide-pasturing o'er the plain , Or throag'd at noon-tide in the willow shade ? Where is brown Autumn's evening mild and still , What time the ripen'd corn fresh fragrance yields , What time the village peoples all the hill , And loud shouts echo o'er the harvest fields ? To former scenes our fancy thus returns , To former scenes that little pleas'd when here ! Our Winter chills us , and our Summer burns ; Yet we dislike the changes of the year . To happier lands then restless fancy flies , Where Indian streams thro' green Savannahs flow ; Where brighter suns and ever tranquil skies Bid new fruits ripen and new flowrets blow . Let Truth these fairer happier lands survey , There half the year descends in watry storms ; Or Nature sickens in the blaze of day , And one brown hue the sun-burnt plain deforms . There oft as toiling in the mazy fields , Or homeward passing on the shadeless way , His joyless life the weary labourer yields , And instant drops beneath the deathful ray . Who dreams of nature free from nature's strife ? Who dreams of constant happiness below ? The hope-flush'd enterer on the stage of life ; The youth to knowledge unchastis'd by woe . For me , long toil'd on many a weary road , Led by false hope in search of many a joy ; I find in earth's bleak clime no blest abode , No place , no season sacred from annoy : For me , while Winter rages round the plains , With his dark days I'll human life compare ; Not those who fraught with clouds and winds and rains , Than this with pining pain and anxious care . O whence this wonderous turn of mind our fate ! Whate'er the season or the place possest , We ever murmur at our present state , And yet the thought of parting breaks our rest : Why else , when heard in evening's solemn gloom , Does the sad knell , that sounding o'er the plain Tolls some poor lifeless body to the tomb , Thus thrill my breast with melancholy pain ? The voice of Reason echoes in my ear , Thus thou ere long must join thy kindred clay ; No more these " nostrils breathe the vital air , " No more these eyelids open on the day . O Winter , round me spread thy joyless reign , Thy threatning skies in dusky horrors drest ; Of thy dread rage no longer I'll complain , Nor ask an Eden for a transient guest . Enough has heaven indulg'd of joy below , To tempt our tarriance in this lov'd retreat ; Enough has heaven ordain'd of useful woe , To make us languish for a happier seat . There is , who deems all climes , all seasons fair , There is , who knows no restless passion's strife ; Contentment smiling at each idle care ; Contentment thankful for the gift of life ; She finds in Winter many a scene to please ; The morning landscape fring'd with frost-work gay , The sun at noon seen thro' the leafless trees , The clear calm aether at the close of day : She marks th' advantage storms and clouds bestow , When blustering Caurus purifies the air , When moist Aquarius pours the fleecy snow , That makes th' impregnate glebe a richer harvest bear ; She bids for all our grateful praise arise , To him whose mandate spake the world to form ; Gave Spring's gay bloom , and Summer's chearful skies , And Autumn's corn-clad field , and Winter's sounding storm