ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE. M. D.CC.XL. Mark Akenside 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. T124631 1073 K099398.000 Mendez, Moses. A collection of the most esteemed pieces of poetry: that have appeared for several years. With variety of originals, by the late Moses Mendez, Esq; and other contributors to Dodsley's collection. To which this is intended as a supplement. London printed for Richardson and Urquhart 1767 pp. 274-278. [8],320p. ; 8⁰.

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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 .