 | Poems |  |
19
THE VOICE OF WINTER,
SUGGESTED BY MRS. HEMAN'S “VOICE OF SPRING.”
“Now comes the father of the tempests forth
Wrapp'd in black gloom.”
Thompson.
Wrapp'd in black gloom.”
Thompson.
I come, I come from my hoar domains,
From snow-clad mountains, and icy plains;
I come from the forests of gloomy pine,
From lands where the glittering ice-bergs shine,
Where the high Alps lift their heads to the sky,
Where the lammer-geyer and the eagle fly.
From snow-clad mountains, and icy plains;
I come from the forests of gloomy pine,
From lands where the glittering ice-bergs shine,
Where the high Alps lift their heads to the sky,
Where the lammer-geyer and the eagle fly.
20
I have passed o'er the waves of the northern sea,
Where the whale careers in his pastime free,
And the waters froze in my stormy path,
And the Greenland bear for his prey rush'd forth,
And the wild wolves howl'd from their caves on high,
And the vulture scream'd in the darken'd sky.
Where the whale careers in his pastime free,
And the waters froze in my stormy path,
And the Greenland bear for his prey rush'd forth,
And the wild wolves howl'd from their caves on high,
And the vulture scream'd in the darken'd sky.
Ye may trace my course o'er the raging main,
By the bark which strives with the storm in vain;
By the rending mast, and the shatter'd sail,
By the shrieks which blend with the howling gale,
By the mangled form and the livid face,
My path of destruction ye may trace.
By the bark which strives with the storm in vain;
By the rending mast, and the shatter'd sail,
By the shrieks which blend with the howling gale,
By the mangled form and the livid face,
My path of destruction ye may trace.
I have pass'd o'er Circassia's radiant clime,
And wither'd the boughs of the golden lime;
I have blighted the pride of the amaranth flower,
And stripp'd the bloom from the orange bower;
Now the panther prowls in the leafless brakes,
And the wild-fowl soars from the frozen lakes.
And wither'd the boughs of the golden lime;
I have blighted the pride of the amaranth flower,
And stripp'd the bloom from the orange bower;
Now the panther prowls in the leafless brakes,
And the wild-fowl soars from the frozen lakes.
21
I have pass'd o'er temple and ruin'd shrine,
On the plains of the old Athenian clime;
All things have bow'd to my stormy wrath,
Column and pillar have strew'd my path,
And the wreaths I have trampled beneath my tread,
That girt the tombs of the warrior dead.
On the plains of the old Athenian clime;
All things have bow'd to my stormy wrath,
Column and pillar have strew'd my path,
And the wreaths I have trampled beneath my tread,
That girt the tombs of the warrior dead.
I am the lord of the desert lands,
And the storms go forth at my dread commands;—
I speak! and the drifting snow descends,
And the forest-monarch lowly bends;
I speak, and the rushing whirlwind's sweep
Lashes to fury the foaming deep.
And the storms go forth at my dread commands;—
I speak! and the drifting snow descends,
And the forest-monarch lowly bends;
I speak, and the rushing whirlwind's sweep
Lashes to fury the foaming deep.
Hence! hence! from my presence all things of mirth,
While I speed o'er the darken'd and desolate earth;
Hence! hence away to the festive board,
Where the cates are spread and the bright wine pour'd
Where the red fires blaze on the glowing hearth—
Hence! hence! from my presence all things of mirth!
While I speed o'er the darken'd and desolate earth;
Hence! hence away to the festive board,
Where the cates are spread and the bright wine pour'd
Where the red fires blaze on the glowing hearth—
Hence! hence! from my presence all things of mirth!
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