SONNET XXVI.
Storm at Night, in a mountainous Country, contrasted
with Domestic and Fire-side comforts.
11th May, 1803.
How calm is my recess; and how the frost,
Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear
The silence, and the warmth enjoyed within.
Cowper's Task, Book iv.
Now howls the storm pent up amid the hills,
At distance heard; with still increasing roar
It sweeps along the flooded vale: no more
The mountain stream, fed from a thousand rills,
The poet's ear with soothing murmur thrills;
But swol'n, impetuous, rushing fiercely o'er,
With vexed surge, the bounds it knew before,
The tempest's solemn diapason fills.
Now stir the fire; while the drench'd windows shake,
And, borne on blasts of night, thick sheets of rain,
With shrill, swift crash burst on each rattling pane:
At eve's due hour where home-bred comforts wake,
Where music, books, and social converse reign,
The scene is dearer for the tempest's sake.