ON
THE
WINTER
SOLSTICE
.
M.
D.CC.XL
.
BY
DR.
AKENSIDE
.
THE
radiant
ruler
of
the
year
At
length
his
wint'ry
goal
attains
,
Soon
to
reverse
the
long
career
,
And
northward
bend
his
golden
reins
.
Prone
on
Potosi's
haughty
brow
His
fiery
streams
incessant
flow
,
Ripening
the
silver's
ductile
stores
;
While
,
in
the
cavern's
horrid
shade
,
The
panting
Indian
hides
his
head
,
And
oft
th'
approach
of
eve
explores
.
But
lo
,
on
this
deserted
coast
How
faint
the
light
!
how
thick
the
air
!
Lo
,
arm'd
with
whirlwind
,
hail
and
frost
,
Fierce
winter
desolates
the
year
.
The
fields
resign
their
chearful
bloom
:
No
more
the
breezes
waft
perfume
;
No
more
the
warbling
waters
roll
:
Deserts
of
snow
fatigue
the
eye
,
Black
storms
involve
the
louring
sky
,
And
gloomy
damps
oppress
the
soul
.
Now
thro'
the
town
promiscuous
throngs
Urge
the
warm
bowl
and
ruddy
fire
;
Harmonious
dances
,
festive
songs
,
To
charm
the
midnight
hours
conspire
.
While
mute
and
shrinking
with
her
fears
,
Each
blast
the
cottage-matron
hears
,
As
o'er
the
hearth
she
sits
alone
:
At
morn
her
bridegroom
went
abroad
,
The
night
is
dark
,
and
deep
the
road
;
She
sighs
,
and
wishes
him
at
home
.
But
thou
,
my
lyre
,
awake
,
arise
,
And
hail
the
sun's
remotest
ray
;
Now
,
now
he
climbs
the
northern
skies
,
To-morrow
nearer
than
to-day
.
Then
louder
howl
the
stormy
waste
,
Be
land
and
ocean
worse
defac'd
,
Yet
brighter
hours
are
on
the
wing
;
And
fancy
thro'
the
wintry
glooms
,
All
fresh
with
dews
and
opening
blooms
,
Already
hails
th'
emerging
spring
.
O
fountain
of
the
golden
day
!
Could
mortal
vows
but
urge
thy
speed
,
How
soon
before
thy
vernal
ray
Should
each
unkindly
damp
recede
!
How
soon
each
hovering
tempest
fly
,
That
now
fermenting
loads
the
sky
,
Prompt
on
our
heads
to
burst
amain
,
To
rend
the
forest
from
the
steep
,
Or
thundering
o'er
the
Baltic
deep
To
whelm
the
merchant's
hopes
of
gain
!
But
let
not
man's
unequal
views
Presume
on
nature
and
her
laws
;
'Tis
his
with
grateful
joy
to
use
Th'
indulgence
of
the
sovereign
cause
;
Secure
that
health
and
beauty
springs
,
Thro'
this
majestic
frame
of
things
,
Beyond
what
he
can
reach
to
know
,
And
that
heav'n's
all-subduing
will
,
With
good
the
progeny
of
ill
,
Attempers
every
state
below
.
How
pleasing
wears
the
wint'ry
night
,
Spent
with
the
old
illustrious
dead
!
While
,
by
the
taper's
trembling
light
,
I
seem
those
awful
courts
to
tread
Where
chiefs
and
legislators
lie
,
Whose
triumphs
move
before
my
eye
With
every
laurel
fresh
display'd
;
While
charm'd
I
taste
th'
Ionian
song
,
Or
bend
to
Plato's
god-like
tongue
Resounding
thro'
the
olive
shade
.
But
if
the
gay
,
well-natur'd
friend
Bids
leave
the
studious
page
awhile
,
Then
easier
joys
the
soul
unbend
,
And
teach
the
brow
a
softer
smile
;
Then
while
the
genial
glass
is
paid
By
each
to
her
,
that
fairest
maid
,
Whose
radiant
eyes
his
hopes
obey
,
What
lucky
vows
his
bosom
warm
!
While
absence
heightens
every
charm
,
And
love
invokes
returning
May
.
May
!
thou
delight
of
heav'n
and
earth
,
When
will
thy
happy
morn
arise
?
When
the
dear
place
which
gave
her
birth
Restore
Lucinda
to
my
eyes
?
There
while
she
walks
the
wonted
grove
,
The
seat
of
music
and
of
love
,
Bright
as
the
one
primaeval
fair
,
Thither
,
ye
silver-sounding
lyres
,
Thither
,
gay
smiles
and
young
desires
,
Chaste
hope
and
mutual
faith
,
repair
.
And
if
believing
love
can
read
The
wonted
softness
in
her
eye
,
Then
shall
my
fears
,
O
charming
maid
,
And
every
pain
of
absence
die
:
Then
oftner
to
thy
name
attun'd
,
And
rising
to
diviner
sound
,
I'll
wake
the
free
Horatian
song
:
Old
Tyne
shall
listen
to
my
tale
,
And
echo
,
down
the
bordering
vale
,
The
liquid
melody
prolong
.