His struggling rays in horizontal lines,
Through the thick air, as, clothed in cloudy storm, Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky; And, soon descending, to the long dark night, Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 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 congealed. Heavy they roll the fleecy world along ;
And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. Through the hushed 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. The cherished fields Put on their winter-robe of purest white.
'Tis brightness all, save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their hoar head; 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, that buries wide The works of man. Drooping, the labourer-ox Stands covered o'er with snow, and then demands The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, Tamed by the cruel, season, crowd around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which Providence assigns them. One alone, The red-breast, sacred to the household gods, Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half-afraid, he first Against the window beats, then brisk alights On the warm hearth; then 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, Though timorous of heart, and hard beset By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, And more unpitying men, the garden seeks, Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kine Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, With looks of dumb despair: then, sad dispersed, Dig for the withered herb through heaps of snow.— 'Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends His desolate domain. Behold, fond Man! See here thy pictured life; pass some few years, Thy flowery Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, Thy sober Autumn, 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 shared thy life? All now are vanished! Virtue sole-survives, Immortal, never-failing friend of Man! His guide to happiness on high.
HOUGH now no more the musing ear Delights to listen to the breeze,
That lingers o'er the greenwood shade, I love thee, Winter! well.
Sweet are the harmonies of Spring, Sweet is the Summer's evening gale, Pleasant the Autumnal winds that shake The many-coloured grove.
And pleasant to the sobered soul The silence of the wintry scene, When Nature shrouds her in a trance In deep tranquillity.
Not undelightful now to roam
The wild heath sparkling on the sight; Not undelightful now to pace
The forest's ample rounds;
And see the spangled branches shine, And mark the moss of many a hue That varies the old tree's brown bark, Or o'er the gray stone spreads.
The clustered berries claim the eye O'er the bright holly's gay green leaves: The ivy round the leafless oak
Clasps its full foliage close.
So Virtue, diffident of strength, Clings to Religion's firmer aid, And, by Religion's aid upheld, Endures calamity.
Nor void of beauties now the spring, Whose waters, hid from Summer sun, Have soothed the thirsty pilgrim's ear With more than melody.
The green moss shines with icy glare; The long grass bends in spear-like form; And lovely is the silvery scene
When faint the sunbeams smile.
Reflection, too, may love the hour When Nature, hid in Winter's grave, No more expands the bursting bud, Or bids the floweret bloom.
For Nature, soon in Spring's best charms, Shall rise revived from Winter's grave, Again expand the bursting bud, And bid the floweret bloom.
ARK! 'twas dark Winter's sullen voice, That told the gloom that reigned; That bade the plains no more rejoice, And all the waves be chained.
And see! brown Autumn dies away! The pallid sire is come!
The plains his shivering rules obey,
And every wave is dumb!
Yet still with cheerful heart I pace The whitened vale below; And smile at every printed trace I leave upon the snow.
Thus, (soft I whisper to my breast,) Man treads life's weary waste; Each step that leads to better rest Forgot as soon as past!
For what is life and all its bliss? The splendour of a fly;
The breathings of a morning's kiss; A summer's flushing sky.
Dismantled lies the gaudy fly;
Morn droops at evening's frown; And Summer, though so gay her eye, Tempestuous terrors crown!
Yes, Lord, but shoots no gladdening day Through this nocturnal scene?
Decks not one gem of lively ray
Grief's darksome wave unseen?
How sweet the evergreen beguiles The gloom of yonder snow! Thus Virtue cheers, with endless smiles, Life's wintry waste of woe.
Howl then, ye storms! ye tempests, beat
Round this unshrinking head!
I know a sweet, a soft retreat,
In Virtue's peaceful shed!
Drive down, ye hails! pour, snows and winds, Pale terror where I stray !
My foot a path yet verdant finds,
Where Virtue smooths the way!
O Thou! by whose all-gracious hand The cherub Mercy stands, Smiling at each divine command, With fondness o'er the lands;
O let me ne'er, with marble eye,
Pale shivering Want reject;
Where mourns the long, the deep-drawn sigh,
The anguish of neglect !
While lordly pride and cushioned ease
Petition's tear despise,
O let this hand the mourner raise,
And wipe her streaming eyes!
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