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The Land of the Muses

a poem, In the Manner of Spenser. With Poems on several Occasions. By Hugh Downman
Downman, Hugh (1740-1809)

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SONNET II.

[Though here almost eternal Winter reigns]

Though here almost eternal Winter reigns,
And piercing deep the womb of Nature chills;
Though born far off under a milder sky,
The northern blast e'en through my marrow thrills,
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And freezes up the life-blood in my veins;
The hardy natives o'er the mountains high,
Trace out the step of Health amid the snow;
Or where o'er the gray moss her bare feet stray:
Hence active nerves, and scorn of danger flow;
Hence when of late, call'd forth to mortal fray,
At their approach, Revenge more furious grew,
War smil'd, while triple Rage new steel'd his heart,
Pale bloodless Fear turn'd to a ghastlier hue,
And Death more dreadful shook his pointed dart.
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