 | Poem addressed, by Philis (a young Affrican, of
surprising genius) to a gentleman of the navy, with his reply |  |
WINTER.
A pastoral Ballad.
WHEN the trees are all bear,
not a leaf to be seen,
And the meadows their beauty have lost;
When nature's ditrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the streams are fast bound with the frost.
While the peasant inactive stands shivering with cold
As bleak the winds northerly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for ease to the fold
With their fleeces besprinkled with snow.
In the yard, where the cattle are fodder'd with straw,
And they send forth their breath like a stream:
And the neat-looking dairy maid sees she must thaw
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream.
When the lads and the lasses for company join'd,
In a croud round the embers are met;
Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind,
And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat.
Heav'n grant in this season it may be my lot,
With a nymph whom I love and admire;
While the icicles hang from the eves of my cot,
I may hither in safety retire?
Where in neatness and quiet and free from surprize
We may live and no hardships endure;
Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
But such as each other may cure.
And the meadows their beauty have lost;
When nature's ditrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the streams are fast bound with the frost.
While the peasant inactive stands shivering with cold
As bleak the winds northerly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for ease to the fold
With their fleeces besprinkled with snow.
In the yard, where the cattle are fodder'd with straw,
And they send forth their breath like a stream:
And the neat-looking dairy maid sees she must thaw
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream.
When the lads and the lasses for company join'd,
In a croud round the embers are met;
Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind,
And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat.
Heav'n grant in this season it may be my lot,
With a nymph whom I love and admire;
While the icicles hang from the eves of my cot,
I may hither in safety retire?
Where in neatness and quiet and free from surprize
We may live and no hardships endure;
Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
But such as each other may cure.
| Poem addressed, by Philis (a young Affrican, of
surprising genius) to a gentleman of the navy, with his reply | |