Poems By the Rev. James Hurdis ... In Three Volumes |
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| II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| III. |
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| 1. |
| II. |
| III. | BOOK III. |
| IV. |
 | Poems |  |
104
BOOK III.
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK.
The pleasures of the favourite village during Winter—Amusing presages of stormy weather—The winter tempest described, as a cause of pleasure—the agitated sea—its invasion of the Parish-clerk—The pleasure of viewing the port and its mercantile labours—Reflections on the sun and moon—Pleasures of the Winter's morning—of the Winter's walk—the rainbow &c.—Frost and its pleasures—the clear-shining moon— the rime, and its thaw—boys sliding—Reflections on the power of frost—The fall of snow—its intermission—its final cessation—The pleasure of walking out when it has subsided, and observing various animals—Christmas and its pleasures —the boy singing carols—The return of fog and thaw—gradual disappearance of the snow—Pleasure of viewing the leafless wood—Agreeable symptoms of spring not far distant, seen in different flowers—in the improving warmth of the sun—in the length of the days. The pleasure of walking in the sunshine—and observing the first bloom that begins to appear.
105
Yet Winter has its pleasures. 'Tis delight
To mark the symptom of his frequent storm.
Not seldom, previous to the morrow's shower,
A flaky vapour the pure æther streaks;
As if some painter of gigantic arm
Had dipp'd his brush into the foamy wave,
Charg'd it with colour from the cliff, and dash'd
With wanton levity a milky bow
Across the dome of heav'n. Nor sometimes seems
His saucy hand with single stroke content,
But daubs with quick return the azure arch,
Upon the blessed canopy sublime
Vagaries flourishing, unsteady freaks,
Such, with her besom, round the morning hearth,
As giddy bar-maid fashions, trailing brisk
Her childish fancies o'er the sanded floor.
If yet the season to his race be kind,
Sharp stings the minor fly, chirurgeon keen,
With lancet petulant the manly shin
Provoking, oft repuls'd, nor slaking well
His thirst of blood, ere the vindictive hand
Of his vex'd patient fall, and with a frisk
The small phlebotomist indignant crush.
Forth from her haunt obscene, offensive sight!
Wanders Arachne, sable, filthy, vast.
Forth creeps the ling'ring snail; a silvery line,
Meand'ring devious o'er the plaister'd wall,
Marks his pituitous and slimy course.
With tardy shell and tender horn outstretch'd
He seeks the far-off leaf. Aloud and oft
The cock high-mounted with applauding wing
Sounds his clear trump, prophetic of the show'r;
While the daw people numerous, with plumes
Rapid and audible, the valley skim
Or flock-fed down, or round the steeple sail,
Startling by fits the meditating ear
With mingled outcry of ten thousand throats.
Tight stretch'd, where'er suspended, or in croft,
Or sunny garden, or contiguous field,
Appears the cord the busy laundress strains.
Far off resounds the shore-assailing deep,
Sweeping with rude concussion the loose beach
Harshly sequacious of his refluent surge.
Sails landward, high uplifted, the grey host
Of wide-wing'd sea-mews, in their gyrous flight
Oft intermingling, and repeating oft
Sounds which the distant inexperienc'd ear
Might deem the cry of eager hounds remote.
Loud on the brink of her foul puddle quacks
The clam'rous duck, while her more silent lord,
With his green glossy nape, assiduous oils
His shining beak, and spreads the thin defence
With nice precision o'er his thirsty plumes.
So falls the shower in vain, and he secure
Stalks in the deluge, and defies it all,
The fine dew trickling from his sides unfelt;
Nor needs, like chanticleer and his vex'd dames,
To hurry homeward when the flood descends,
To hang the tail, or seek the shed forlorn,
And shake the moisture from his madid wings.
Nothing impair'd, with clean and ruddy leg
Through ev'ry plash he wades, with chatt'ring beak
Fishes the miry shallow as he goes;
Or strays at large upon the dewy mead
In quest of snail, of slug, and winding worm;
Or, launching from the shore his feather'd fleet,
Pilots his dames along the flooded dyke.
To mark the symptom of his frequent storm.
Not seldom, previous to the morrow's shower,
A flaky vapour the pure æther streaks;
As if some painter of gigantic arm
Had dipp'd his brush into the foamy wave,
Charg'd it with colour from the cliff, and dash'd
With wanton levity a milky bow
Across the dome of heav'n. Nor sometimes seems
His saucy hand with single stroke content,
But daubs with quick return the azure arch,
Upon the blessed canopy sublime
106
Such, with her besom, round the morning hearth,
As giddy bar-maid fashions, trailing brisk
Her childish fancies o'er the sanded floor.
If yet the season to his race be kind,
Sharp stings the minor fly, chirurgeon keen,
With lancet petulant the manly shin
Provoking, oft repuls'd, nor slaking well
His thirst of blood, ere the vindictive hand
Of his vex'd patient fall, and with a frisk
The small phlebotomist indignant crush.
Forth from her haunt obscene, offensive sight!
Wanders Arachne, sable, filthy, vast.
Forth creeps the ling'ring snail; a silvery line,
Meand'ring devious o'er the plaister'd wall,
Marks his pituitous and slimy course.
With tardy shell and tender horn outstretch'd
He seeks the far-off leaf. Aloud and oft
The cock high-mounted with applauding wing
Sounds his clear trump, prophetic of the show'r;
While the daw people numerous, with plumes
Rapid and audible, the valley skim
107
Startling by fits the meditating ear
With mingled outcry of ten thousand throats.
Tight stretch'd, where'er suspended, or in croft,
Or sunny garden, or contiguous field,
Appears the cord the busy laundress strains.
Far off resounds the shore-assailing deep,
Sweeping with rude concussion the loose beach
Harshly sequacious of his refluent surge.
Sails landward, high uplifted, the grey host
Of wide-wing'd sea-mews, in their gyrous flight
Oft intermingling, and repeating oft
Sounds which the distant inexperienc'd ear
Might deem the cry of eager hounds remote.
Loud on the brink of her foul puddle quacks
The clam'rous duck, while her more silent lord,
With his green glossy nape, assiduous oils
His shining beak, and spreads the thin defence
With nice precision o'er his thirsty plumes.
So falls the shower in vain, and he secure
Stalks in the deluge, and defies it all,
The fine dew trickling from his sides unfelt;
108
To hurry homeward when the flood descends,
To hang the tail, or seek the shed forlorn,
And shake the moisture from his madid wings.
Nothing impair'd, with clean and ruddy leg
Through ev'ry plash he wades, with chatt'ring beak
Fishes the miry shallow as he goes;
Or strays at large upon the dewy mead
In quest of snail, of slug, and winding worm;
Or, launching from the shore his feather'd fleet,
Pilots his dames along the flooded dyke.
As, when the daw throng on the steeple perch,
Ambitious of its loftiest vane, and smoke
Shot upwards from the funnel mounts erect,
Fair day succeeds; so when the turbid stream,
That issues from the chimney, falls depress'd,
And travels fog-like o'er the dewy field,
While at a distance the loud western-bell
Distinctly sings, day foul and pluvious comes.
Dim the nocturnal sky; its feebler lights
Lost in the dense profound, its brighter gems
Obscurely visible. If chance the moon
Cross the quench'd Empyrean, her sad orb
Shines with abated beam, and seems to wear
A misty atmosphere. Far in the void
An ampler circle with capacious zone
Her central disc encloses. Spiritless
At his round table sits the farmer lord;
A drowsy yawn his pipe-inhaling jaws
Relaxes often. At his foot the cur
Sleeps on the hearth outstretch'd, and yelping dreams,
Or lifts his head, astonish'd at the dance
Of frisking puss, who on the sanded floor
Gambols excessive. Such ere close of day
Were the wild antics of the frantic herd,
(Alike prophetic of the morrow storm,)
Who leap'd and rac'd, and bellow'd in the mead,
And clash'd their horny foreheads, staring fierce.
Dim in the socket burns the sulky wick,
Nor heeds the trimming hand, which oft divides
The kindled fibres of its nape in vain,
And to the oil redundant, that would drown
Its feeble flame, relieving sluice affords.
Ambitious of its loftiest vane, and smoke
Shot upwards from the funnel mounts erect,
Fair day succeeds; so when the turbid stream,
That issues from the chimney, falls depress'd,
And travels fog-like o'er the dewy field,
While at a distance the loud western-bell
Distinctly sings, day foul and pluvious comes.
Dim the nocturnal sky; its feebler lights
Lost in the dense profound, its brighter gems
Obscurely visible. If chance the moon
109
Shines with abated beam, and seems to wear
A misty atmosphere. Far in the void
An ampler circle with capacious zone
Her central disc encloses. Spiritless
At his round table sits the farmer lord;
A drowsy yawn his pipe-inhaling jaws
Relaxes often. At his foot the cur
Sleeps on the hearth outstretch'd, and yelping dreams,
Or lifts his head, astonish'd at the dance
Of frisking puss, who on the sanded floor
Gambols excessive. Such ere close of day
Were the wild antics of the frantic herd,
(Alike prophetic of the morrow storm,)
Who leap'd and rac'd, and bellow'd in the mead,
And clash'd their horny foreheads, staring fierce.
Dim in the socket burns the sulky wick,
Nor heeds the trimming hand, which oft divides
The kindled fibres of its nape in vain,
And to the oil redundant, that would drown
Its feeble flame, relieving sluice affords.
At length the long-expected tempest comes.
His ancient phrenzy has the maniac deep
Seiz'd, and with loud reverberating foot
He dances rampant in his thund'ring hall.
His gloomy frown that darkens earth and heaven,
And foamy gnashing jaw, foretel ere long
Madness enormous to ensue. E'en now
He gnaws with keen exasperated tooth
The rock that holds him shorebound to his seat,
Buffets the pier and basis of the cliff,
Seizes the tilting triple-masted bark,
Light as a feather in his pow'rful grasp,
Kindles her sleeping thunder, and enjoys
Her frequent flashes of nocturnal woe.
Well nigh omnipotent, on the sunk reef,
Where roars the conflict of eternal storm,
And wave o'ertumbles wave in foamy fall,
He tosses furious her reluctant crew,
Snatches the quiver from the hand of heaven,
Scatters the glaring lightnings o'er their heads,
And pours the forceful thunder-peal around.
Pleas'd at her fate, he aggravates the storm,
Bellows profound, roars horrible delight,
And bids the billow oft repeat the blow,
Till with unchainable gigantic arm
He thrusts her headlong to the deepmost Hell.
110
Seiz'd, and with loud reverberating foot
He dances rampant in his thund'ring hall.
His gloomy frown that darkens earth and heaven,
And foamy gnashing jaw, foretel ere long
Madness enormous to ensue. E'en now
He gnaws with keen exasperated tooth
The rock that holds him shorebound to his seat,
Buffets the pier and basis of the cliff,
Seizes the tilting triple-masted bark,
Light as a feather in his pow'rful grasp,
Kindles her sleeping thunder, and enjoys
Her frequent flashes of nocturnal woe.
Well nigh omnipotent, on the sunk reef,
Where roars the conflict of eternal storm,
And wave o'ertumbles wave in foamy fall,
He tosses furious her reluctant crew,
Snatches the quiver from the hand of heaven,
Scatters the glaring lightnings o'er their heads,
And pours the forceful thunder-peal around.
Pleas'd at her fate, he aggravates the storm,
Bellows profound, roars horrible delight,
111
Till with unchainable gigantic arm
He thrusts her headlong to the deepmost Hell.
What greater pleasure, thou terrific deep,
Than when thy lifted tide proclaims aloud
The lunar orb renew'd, or at its hour
Of plenitude arriv'd, on thy bleak verge
To stand observant of the tumbling swell,
Enormous cataract from cliff to cliff
Thund'ring along indignant! High in air
Flashes the plunging downfall as it flies.
Its foamy vengeance to the topmost shore
Impetuous rushes, but ere long recedes,
Raking with harsh recoil the pebbly steep,
And scarce submitting to the monstrous surge
That next uplifts its overtumbling swell,
And flound'ring hurries o'er the wave relaps'd.
Feel'st thou no pleasure that thou sitt'st aloof
To whine and shudder, Frisk? There quake and pine,
Nor come obedient when thy master's lip
Kind invitation whistles, ill agreed
Sprawling aloft to meet the salient wave.
Not such thy spirit, when insulted puss
Scampers the garden path, and climbs alert
The high espalier, there to swell and swear,
Or, in close corner pent, upheaves her coat,
And blust'ring cuffs thee with vindictive claw.
Nor such thy spirit, when the nimble hare
Starts from her seat, and scuds along the down;
Or when thy delicate and busy sense
Traces the covey in the morning dew,
Which sudden rises, and with whirring wing
And chuckling outcry hurries down the vale.
Than when thy lifted tide proclaims aloud
The lunar orb renew'd, or at its hour
Of plenitude arriv'd, on thy bleak verge
To stand observant of the tumbling swell,
Enormous cataract from cliff to cliff
Thund'ring along indignant! High in air
Flashes the plunging downfall as it flies.
Its foamy vengeance to the topmost shore
Impetuous rushes, but ere long recedes,
Raking with harsh recoil the pebbly steep,
And scarce submitting to the monstrous surge
That next uplifts its overtumbling swell,
And flound'ring hurries o'er the wave relaps'd.
Feel'st thou no pleasure that thou sitt'st aloof
To whine and shudder, Frisk? There quake and pine,
Nor come obedient when thy master's lip
Kind invitation whistles, ill agreed
Sprawling aloft to meet the salient wave.
112
Scampers the garden path, and climbs alert
The high espalier, there to swell and swear,
Or, in close corner pent, upheaves her coat,
And blust'ring cuffs thee with vindictive claw.
Nor such thy spirit, when the nimble hare
Starts from her seat, and scuds along the down;
Or when thy delicate and busy sense
Traces the covey in the morning dew,
Which sudden rises, and with whirring wing
And chuckling outcry hurries down the vale.
The winter sea's insufferable fall
Who not admires, and his surmounting wave,
Proudly rebellious, when the sable reef
Or foamy shallow intercepts his march?
How wrestles with the rock the billowy tide!
How storms with wanton fury the worn cliff!
How on the solid everlasting shore
Pours its loud cataract of thunder down!
Oft in that perilous and stormy hour,
Upon the farthest pier, whose daring pile
Strides far into the flood, and braves the surge
Of the wild ocean in its angriest mood,
In tremulous enjoyment let me stand;
What time the gale with clamour-laden wing
Blows stiff and ill resisted, dashing fierce
The wave prodigious on his oaken breast,
Or smites oblique his everlasting side,
His chain of ribs enormous, show'r profuse
Of the vex'd waters on his lofty chest
Heavily pouring. Then who stands to see
Must ill-defended shrink within the verge
Of the strong work that shudders at the blow,
And undercreep the cope high overblown
Of vaulting waters, or abide ill-pleas'd
Bath instantaneous in a drown'd surtout.
Thou awful element, my soul adores
Thy furious hour, and with excessive joy
Marks thine invasion, when the grasp of God
Quits its restraint upon the turbid swell,
And pours almighty to the topmost strand
In deluge mountainous the milky surge.
How hurries headlong the tumultuous tide,
At that dread moment, through his foamy jaws
Into the mouth of Ouse! how spreads around
Its dying wave within the flooded port!
Forlorn and waterlock'd stands the lone mill
In the mid-lake apparent, close besieg'd,
By fearful inundation girded round.
Then with what joy, thou proud uplifted deep,
Turn I to look upon thy glorious wave,
That tumbles, foams, and thunders round the bay!
The mighty downfall, forcing from its seat
Th' incalculable pebble, piles it high,
Against it swells, and swelling upward heaves
With shoulder irresistible the mound,
Till the controlling moon bids haste away,
And rage indignant upon other shores.
Then leisurely withdraws the flound'ring surge,
And a chaste cestus of unsullied beach,
Of ev'ry feculence and foulness purg'd,
The waist of ocean girds. How battles then
The furious Ouse conflicting with the wave!
How rears his waters, and the saucy swell
Insulting buffets, overpow'rs his wrath,
And headlong hurries the disorder'd flood!
The main retiring plays along the shore;
As sports the giant whale with the salt wave,
Inhaling and again repelling quick
The life-supporting tide, so sucks the deep
With repercussion harsh the pebbly beach
Into his foamy jaws, and so dispels.
By the strong action of his forceful lungs
The flint itself, made sleek, becomes rotund,
And silky to the touch: the very rock,
Hard-hearted though he seem, is smooth'd without;
And the soft pebble, by collision worn,
No angular asperity betrays.
Who not admires, and his surmounting wave,
Proudly rebellious, when the sable reef
Or foamy shallow intercepts his march?
How wrestles with the rock the billowy tide!
How storms with wanton fury the worn cliff!
How on the solid everlasting shore
Pours its loud cataract of thunder down!
Oft in that perilous and stormy hour,
Upon the farthest pier, whose daring pile
Strides far into the flood, and braves the surge
113
In tremulous enjoyment let me stand;
What time the gale with clamour-laden wing
Blows stiff and ill resisted, dashing fierce
The wave prodigious on his oaken breast,
Or smites oblique his everlasting side,
His chain of ribs enormous, show'r profuse
Of the vex'd waters on his lofty chest
Heavily pouring. Then who stands to see
Must ill-defended shrink within the verge
Of the strong work that shudders at the blow,
And undercreep the cope high overblown
Of vaulting waters, or abide ill-pleas'd
Bath instantaneous in a drown'd surtout.
Thou awful element, my soul adores
Thy furious hour, and with excessive joy
Marks thine invasion, when the grasp of God
Quits its restraint upon the turbid swell,
And pours almighty to the topmost strand
In deluge mountainous the milky surge.
How hurries headlong the tumultuous tide,
At that dread moment, through his foamy jaws
114
Its dying wave within the flooded port!
Forlorn and waterlock'd stands the lone mill
In the mid-lake apparent, close besieg'd,
By fearful inundation girded round.
Then with what joy, thou proud uplifted deep,
Turn I to look upon thy glorious wave,
That tumbles, foams, and thunders round the bay!
The mighty downfall, forcing from its seat
Th' incalculable pebble, piles it high,
Against it swells, and swelling upward heaves
With shoulder irresistible the mound,
Till the controlling moon bids haste away,
And rage indignant upon other shores.
Then leisurely withdraws the flound'ring surge,
And a chaste cestus of unsullied beach,
Of ev'ry feculence and foulness purg'd,
The waist of ocean girds. How battles then
The furious Ouse conflicting with the wave!
How rears his waters, and the saucy swell
Insulting buffets, overpow'rs his wrath,
And headlong hurries the disorder'd flood!
115
As sports the giant whale with the salt wave,
Inhaling and again repelling quick
The life-supporting tide, so sucks the deep
With repercussion harsh the pebbly beach
Into his foamy jaws, and so dispels.
By the strong action of his forceful lungs
The flint itself, made sleek, becomes rotund,
And silky to the touch: the very rock,
Hard-hearted though he seem, is smooth'd without;
And the soft pebble, by collision worn,
No angular asperity betrays.
Not always innocent the stormy tide,
That thus, ascending from the chas'd abyss,
Bellows tremendous. In the watery flat,
Under the shelter of the mill-pool wall,
Behold yon humble and succinct abode.
There dwelt of late response-pronouncing sage,
The village-clerk parochial, nothing rich.
Forty long years he delv'd into the soil,
Threw up the crumbled bone and lipless scull,
Shap'd to the coffin his well-finish'd work,
And eas'd into the grave the silent corpse,
Commending dust to dust. Still sprang anew
The transient offspring of deciduous man,
And still by his all-overwhelming spade
Were shelter'd deep beneath the holy sward.
Thrice fell his pulpit lord, and he, who sheds
Now on each infant cheek baptismal dew,
In his long recollection was a child
Borne but a day since to the font himself.
There liv'd the sage, there died. But ere he died,
Strong blew the southern gale; the naked branch
Loud howling wrestled with the pow'rful gust,
And ocean wroth his terrifying voice
Utter'd profound. The shore-assailing wave
Uplifted swell'd prodigious, and his bound
With foamy far-shot indignation scal'd.
The practicable breach, by lunar aid,
O'erflowing Ouse in his surmounted wall
Ere long effected, and the valley swam.
Distress acute the pious houshold seiz'd,
To see their supellectile treasures float
In playful dance around, to see the flood
Yet rushing inward, and the hissing grate
Now quenching, filling now the mouth
Of oven seldom fed, and now the small
And lowly casement laving with its wave.
Despair of safety by ascent was there;
For ah! the low-roof'd messuage above earth
No story boasted, and no stair-way own'd.
Drown'd was the tenement, and almost drown'd
The holy habitant. But wreck was none,
Save of domestic chattels, here and there
In culinary whirlpool swimming few.
So battled ocean with the tuneful sage.
Not such thine enterprize, indignant flood,
When, by the resolute shore-shaking God
To battle summon'd, thine imperious surge
With tow'ring deluge the victorious host
Of stone-stunn'd Hector to his Troy repuls'd.
That thus, ascending from the chas'd abyss,
Bellows tremendous. In the watery flat,
Under the shelter of the mill-pool wall,
Behold yon humble and succinct abode.
There dwelt of late response-pronouncing sage,
The village-clerk parochial, nothing rich.
Forty long years he delv'd into the soil,
Threw up the crumbled bone and lipless scull,
Shap'd to the coffin his well-finish'd work,
116
Commending dust to dust. Still sprang anew
The transient offspring of deciduous man,
And still by his all-overwhelming spade
Were shelter'd deep beneath the holy sward.
Thrice fell his pulpit lord, and he, who sheds
Now on each infant cheek baptismal dew,
In his long recollection was a child
Borne but a day since to the font himself.
There liv'd the sage, there died. But ere he died,
Strong blew the southern gale; the naked branch
Loud howling wrestled with the pow'rful gust,
And ocean wroth his terrifying voice
Utter'd profound. The shore-assailing wave
Uplifted swell'd prodigious, and his bound
With foamy far-shot indignation scal'd.
The practicable breach, by lunar aid,
O'erflowing Ouse in his surmounted wall
Ere long effected, and the valley swam.
Distress acute the pious houshold seiz'd,
To see their supellectile treasures float
In playful dance around, to see the flood
117
Now quenching, filling now the mouth
Of oven seldom fed, and now the small
And lowly casement laving with its wave.
Despair of safety by ascent was there;
For ah! the low-roof'd messuage above earth
No story boasted, and no stair-way own'd.
Drown'd was the tenement, and almost drown'd
The holy habitant. But wreck was none,
Save of domestic chattels, here and there
In culinary whirlpool swimming few.
So battled ocean with the tuneful sage.
Not such thine enterprize, indignant flood,
When, by the resolute shore-shaking God
To battle summon'd, thine imperious surge
With tow'ring deluge the victorious host
Of stone-stunn'd Hector to his Troy repuls'd.
The sight of Winter's superb ocean left,
Me pleases much the bustle of the port;
The toil and clamour of the prosp'rous bark,
Safe landing on the wharf with brisk dispatch
Her sable cargo from the northern mine:
The neater vessel her capacious lap
Filling with grain, or (stowage ponderous)
The mealy sack of the contiguous mill,
Welcome supply to the far-distant camp,
Or wind-bound fleet of war; the slothful barge
Slug-like conveying from the sloop her deals,
Another from the sloven brig her load
Of nauseous grocery, abundant store
For ev'ry village on the banks of Ouse,
And chiefly for yon borough built in air,
Whose ancient castle lifts its brow sublime
To frown upon the flood they cross below.
Me pleases much the bustle of the port;
The toil and clamour of the prosp'rous bark,
Safe landing on the wharf with brisk dispatch
Her sable cargo from the northern mine:
118
Filling with grain, or (stowage ponderous)
The mealy sack of the contiguous mill,
Welcome supply to the far-distant camp,
Or wind-bound fleet of war; the slothful barge
Slug-like conveying from the sloop her deals,
Another from the sloven brig her load
Of nauseous grocery, abundant store
For ev'ry village on the banks of Ouse,
And chiefly for yon borough built in air,
Whose ancient castle lifts its brow sublime
To frown upon the flood they cross below.
Brief is the day, but, shorten'd as it is,
Sweet meditation to the muse affords.
Long on the sullen forehead of the morn
The frown of darkness dwells, prolonging night,
And gloomily reluctant breaks the dawn.
The cock, impatient, for the morning calls;
And now the dismal orb of slumb'ring day
With melancholy visage through the gloom
Scarce penetrates, and sickly twilight sheds.
Feeble the splendor of his moody smile,
And soon his race concludes. He seems at length,
Fatigued by journeying six thousand years,
To ask his promis'd sabbath, pants for rest,
And early seeks his inn. Not such the speed
And nightly progress of his sister orb;
She, cheerful and alert, soon as his ray
Is quench'd in ocean, rises from her bed,
And with affectionate protracted beam
Strives to compensate for his absent light.
Round the cerulean firmament of heaven
She walks, an ample circuit, second day,
Inferior hardly to the shorter first,
Through the long night dispensing. He his head
Lifts from his maritime cloud-curtain'd couch,
Surveys, disdaining competition still,
Her amiable effort, droops again,
And longer sleeps inert. And some there are,
Who, dwelling far remote on Arctic plains
Buried in snow eternal, his pure orb
See never now, or see but half emerge,
Recumbent ere it rise, or share alone
The feeble twilight of his disc depress'd,
Which once a day illuminates unseen
The horizontal verge of endless night.
To them the moon, immeasurably kind,
Sinks never, but with everlasting march,
Waxing and waning 'mid the stellar host,
The cynosure encircles. Heaven there
Seems a vast dome, whose change-performing orb
And brilliant host of ever-living gems,
Hung on the boreal star that shines alone
Fast-fix'd and vertical, swim round and round,
And never, weary of their whirling dance,
Quit the celestial cupola sublime,
To seek refreshment in the gelid wave.
Such vast benevolence, sweet orb, is thine.
Nor, trust me, can inferior love of man
Be to her brother orb imputed. Both
Are the sweet progeny of one above,
Whose name is Bounty, and inherit both,
Twin-born, the boundless goodness of their sire.
Their business here is to enlighten man,
Else void of eyesight, and his needful bread
Cherish with kind invigorating beam.
On this their gracious task intent toil both,
Incessant labourers, and never pause,
As fancy deems, o'erwearied with fatigue,
Or sleep, or ask relief. When he the zone,
That girds the waist of earth, with northward march
Crosses refulgent, and his sister meets,
He bids her with a smile this Arctic world
Quit, and illuminate the pole below,
Her day prolonging as he shortens his.
So when his blazing chariot flames on high
To rear the northern harvest, she depress'd
Lightens the frosty hemisphere beneath,
To us apparent little, long withdrawn.
She knows that summer's night needs not her beam,
Contracts her feeble day, and soon retires,
Because her ardent helpmate soon returns.
And when again with retrogressive car
He journeys southward, and the fancied belt
Of earth repasses, with fraternal kiss
He bids her hasten to the wint'ry north,
While he dispenses to Antarctic realms,
That will not mourn her absence, sweet return
Of blossom, foliage, fruit, and food. Such now
His task benevolent. To us alone
He seems subdued by sloth. For while on high
Her everlasting lamp his sister hangs,
To light a frozen world he seems to scorn
And visit with reluctance, he below
Reigns bountiful, and with indulgent beam
Bids plenty flourish to the farthest pole.
Such are thy bounteous children, bounteous sire,
Such thy twain dutiful obedient orbs,
Which thus to all mankind, by night, by day,
Whatever season rules whatever clime,
Distribute equal portions of thy love.
Sweet meditation to the muse affords.
Long on the sullen forehead of the morn
The frown of darkness dwells, prolonging night,
And gloomily reluctant breaks the dawn.
The cock, impatient, for the morning calls;
And now the dismal orb of slumb'ring day
With melancholy visage through the gloom
Scarce penetrates, and sickly twilight sheds.
Feeble the splendor of his moody smile,
119
Fatigued by journeying six thousand years,
To ask his promis'd sabbath, pants for rest,
And early seeks his inn. Not such the speed
And nightly progress of his sister orb;
She, cheerful and alert, soon as his ray
Is quench'd in ocean, rises from her bed,
And with affectionate protracted beam
Strives to compensate for his absent light.
Round the cerulean firmament of heaven
She walks, an ample circuit, second day,
Inferior hardly to the shorter first,
Through the long night dispensing. He his head
Lifts from his maritime cloud-curtain'd couch,
Surveys, disdaining competition still,
Her amiable effort, droops again,
And longer sleeps inert. And some there are,
Who, dwelling far remote on Arctic plains
Buried in snow eternal, his pure orb
See never now, or see but half emerge,
Recumbent ere it rise, or share alone
The feeble twilight of his disc depress'd,
120
The horizontal verge of endless night.
To them the moon, immeasurably kind,
Sinks never, but with everlasting march,
Waxing and waning 'mid the stellar host,
The cynosure encircles. Heaven there
Seems a vast dome, whose change-performing orb
And brilliant host of ever-living gems,
Hung on the boreal star that shines alone
Fast-fix'd and vertical, swim round and round,
And never, weary of their whirling dance,
Quit the celestial cupola sublime,
To seek refreshment in the gelid wave.
Such vast benevolence, sweet orb, is thine.
Nor, trust me, can inferior love of man
Be to her brother orb imputed. Both
Are the sweet progeny of one above,
Whose name is Bounty, and inherit both,
Twin-born, the boundless goodness of their sire.
Their business here is to enlighten man,
Else void of eyesight, and his needful bread
Cherish with kind invigorating beam.
121
Incessant labourers, and never pause,
As fancy deems, o'erwearied with fatigue,
Or sleep, or ask relief. When he the zone,
That girds the waist of earth, with northward march
Crosses refulgent, and his sister meets,
He bids her with a smile this Arctic world
Quit, and illuminate the pole below,
Her day prolonging as he shortens his.
So when his blazing chariot flames on high
To rear the northern harvest, she depress'd
Lightens the frosty hemisphere beneath,
To us apparent little, long withdrawn.
She knows that summer's night needs not her beam,
Contracts her feeble day, and soon retires,
Because her ardent helpmate soon returns.
And when again with retrogressive car
He journeys southward, and the fancied belt
Of earth repasses, with fraternal kiss
He bids her hasten to the wint'ry north,
While he dispenses to Antarctic realms,
That will not mourn her absence, sweet return
122
His task benevolent. To us alone
He seems subdued by sloth. For while on high
Her everlasting lamp his sister hangs,
To light a frozen world he seems to scorn
And visit with reluctance, he below
Reigns bountiful, and with indulgent beam
Bids plenty flourish to the farthest pole.
Such are thy bounteous children, bounteous sire,
Such thy twain dutiful obedient orbs,
Which thus to all mankind, by night, by day,
Whatever season rules whatever clime,
Distribute equal portions of thy love.
Not pleasureless the morn, when dismal fog
Rolls o'er the dewy plain, or thin mist drives;
When the lone timber's saturated branch
Drips freely, and with large redundant drop
The spread umbrella pelts, which the chill'd tooth
Screens, and o'ercanopies the languid lock.
Shorn of his glory, through the dim profound
With melancholy aspect looks the orb
Of stifled day, and while he strives to pierce
And dissipate the slow reluctant gloom,
Seems but a rayless globe, an autumn moon,
That gilds opaque the purple zone of eve,
Nor yet distributes of her thrifty beam.
Lo! now he conquers; now, subdued awhile,
Awhile subduing, the disparted mist
Yields us a brighter beam, or darker clouds
His crimson disc obscure. Through the thin veil
Of his foul mantle reads the bard, well-pleas'd,
A kindling glimpse of the pure azure field
Of heav'n's unbounded champain, and the hour
Of winter's noon serene with inward joy
Greets ere it bless his sight. To him who walks
Now in the shelter'd mead, loud roars above
Among the naked branches of the elm,
Still fresh'ning as the hurried cloud departs,
The strong Atlantic gale. Not louder falls
The foamy lasher's cataract superb
In fullest flood-time, when impatient Thames
Fights with the lock which chains him to his seat,
And strives to burst his manacles in vain.
Rolls o'er the dewy plain, or thin mist drives;
When the lone timber's saturated branch
Drips freely, and with large redundant drop
The spread umbrella pelts, which the chill'd tooth
Screens, and o'ercanopies the languid lock.
Shorn of his glory, through the dim profound
With melancholy aspect looks the orb
Of stifled day, and while he strives to pierce
123
Seems but a rayless globe, an autumn moon,
That gilds opaque the purple zone of eve,
Nor yet distributes of her thrifty beam.
Lo! now he conquers; now, subdued awhile,
Awhile subduing, the disparted mist
Yields us a brighter beam, or darker clouds
His crimson disc obscure. Through the thin veil
Of his foul mantle reads the bard, well-pleas'd,
A kindling glimpse of the pure azure field
Of heav'n's unbounded champain, and the hour
Of winter's noon serene with inward joy
Greets ere it bless his sight. To him who walks
Now in the shelter'd mead, loud roars above
Among the naked branches of the elm,
Still fresh'ning as the hurried cloud departs,
The strong Atlantic gale. Not louder falls
The foamy lasher's cataract superb
In fullest flood-time, when impatient Thames
Fights with the lock which chains him to his seat,
And strives to burst his manacles in vain.
Yet not devoid of pleasure is the field,
Howe'er the gale may buffet, nature still
Some grateful objects yielding to the sight.
Though brown the common with its wither'd fern,
And sad the valley with its leafless wood,
Yet crimson haws, and hips of ruddy hue,
And cluster'd privet-berries, dark as jet,
The cheerful hedge-row sprinkle. Lo! the plant,
Joy of the traveller yclep'd, or beard
Of old man seldom razor'd, lusty still,
Though neighbour'd by the prickly bramble, smiles,
The long lane whitening with its woolly tufts.
Beneath it mark a sear'd and cindery spot,
Which scatter'd straws encompass. There encamp'd
The last night's wearied vagrant, mumbled there
His mildew'd maintenance by whining earn'd;
There quaff'd the cup his tatter'd female brew'd,
And slept profound upon the musty truss.
Fool! to prefer such execrable fare,
Such vile accommodation, to the bread
Of pious toil, and comfortable hut,
Where Industry around the glimm'ring hearth
Her never-ailing progeny convenes,
And sober Labour, her well-wearied spouse,
His ev'ning meal enjoys, or sits refresh'd
And hums his rustic sonnet, as he jogs
The laughing little-one on either knee.
Fool! to be vagabond and rather beg,
While his loud hussey, in her cobbled suit
Of sulphur redolent and of the green
And sobbing ember of the smoky hearth,
Screams through the village miserable song,
Vendress of ballads and the bundled match.
124
Some grateful objects yielding to the sight.
Though brown the common with its wither'd fern,
And sad the valley with its leafless wood,
Yet crimson haws, and hips of ruddy hue,
And cluster'd privet-berries, dark as jet,
The cheerful hedge-row sprinkle. Lo! the plant,
Joy of the traveller yclep'd, or beard
Of old man seldom razor'd, lusty still,
Though neighbour'd by the prickly bramble, smiles,
The long lane whitening with its woolly tufts.
Beneath it mark a sear'd and cindery spot,
Which scatter'd straws encompass. There encamp'd
The last night's wearied vagrant, mumbled there
His mildew'd maintenance by whining earn'd;
There quaff'd the cup his tatter'd female brew'd,
And slept profound upon the musty truss.
Fool! to prefer such execrable fare,
Such vile accommodation, to the bread
Of pious toil, and comfortable hut,
Where Industry around the glimm'ring hearth
Her never-ailing progeny convenes,
125
His ev'ning meal enjoys, or sits refresh'd
And hums his rustic sonnet, as he jogs
The laughing little-one on either knee.
Fool! to be vagabond and rather beg,
While his loud hussey, in her cobbled suit
Of sulphur redolent and of the green
And sobbing ember of the smoky hearth,
Screams through the village miserable song,
Vendress of ballads and the bundled match.
Not distant far the river-swelling show'r,
If after blust'ring day come tranquil night,
And, ere the morning dawn, clothe marsh and mead
In the hoar coverlet of snowy frost.
Clear though the glowing orb of day ascend,
Pale watery radiance shall it shed around,
And soon be muffled by the creeping cloud,
That with it bears the tempest, wind and hail,
Or copious show'r aslant of pelting rain.
Oft though he smile, as often shall he frown;
And when at last he takes a sweet farewel,
And sinks into the blue and billowy main,
The beauteous bow shall, by his beam impress'd,
Glow on the bosom of the cloud that flies.
O beautiful display, rejoicing sight,
How elegant the pleasure drawn from thee!
If after blust'ring day come tranquil night,
And, ere the morning dawn, clothe marsh and mead
In the hoar coverlet of snowy frost.
Clear though the glowing orb of day ascend,
Pale watery radiance shall it shed around,
And soon be muffled by the creeping cloud,
That with it bears the tempest, wind and hail,
Or copious show'r aslant of pelting rain.
Oft though he smile, as often shall he frown;
And when at last he takes a sweet farewel,
And sinks into the blue and billowy main,
126
Glow on the bosom of the cloud that flies.
O beautiful display, rejoicing sight,
How elegant the pleasure drawn from thee!
Soft be the breath of heav'n, and through the clear
Transparent atmosphere distinctly shine
The beauteous landscape, its remotest hill
Unveiling of the blue ethereal mist,
Which distance o'er the faded prospect draws;
What surer symptom of approaching fall?
Of rains to be renew'd? But what if day
Should sob and whimper, and the sullen show'r
Draw its dense curtain o'er the dewy hill,
While glutted earth her quiv'ring puddle shews
Vex'd by the pattering show'r? While the soak'd thatch
Drips hasty from the barn, and while the shoot,
Gushing precipitous with bounding spout,
Its clinking reservoir the hollow pipe
Fills merrily, within from pen or page
Sweet satisfaction may the bard derive.
Meantime the hov'ring flood spreads wide his wings,
And, fix'd in firm array, with leafless heads,
In his mid-waters stand the root-bound files
Of wretched willow. Soon as morn returns,
The sportsman's tube, disglutted o'er the lake,
Pours a long echo pealing as it flies.
Transparent atmosphere distinctly shine
The beauteous landscape, its remotest hill
Unveiling of the blue ethereal mist,
Which distance o'er the faded prospect draws;
What surer symptom of approaching fall?
Of rains to be renew'd? But what if day
Should sob and whimper, and the sullen show'r
Draw its dense curtain o'er the dewy hill,
While glutted earth her quiv'ring puddle shews
Vex'd by the pattering show'r? While the soak'd thatch
Drips hasty from the barn, and while the shoot,
Gushing precipitous with bounding spout,
Its clinking reservoir the hollow pipe
Fills merrily, within from pen or page
Sweet satisfaction may the bard derive.
Meantime the hov'ring flood spreads wide his wings,
And, fix'd in firm array, with leafless heads,
127
Of wretched willow. Soon as morn returns,
The sportsman's tube, disglutted o'er the lake,
Pours a long echo pealing as it flies.
Keen blows the wind, and frosty night ensues.
The hearth burns clear, and a blue lambent flame
Plays round its glowing embers. Ill endures
The limb protruded its shin-piercing power,
And the scorch'd eyelid intervention asks
Of handkerchief uplifted, doubled news,
Hand ill at ease, or tipsey-footed screen.
The fev'rous kettle with internal coil
And ebullition totters on the bars,
Forth sending furious from its brazen lungs
Intense evaporation, fog and dew
Instinct with fire, to hand that dares approach
Intolerable as the parching gust
Sirocco, from the burning desert blown.
With folded feet inverted slumbers puss
The livelong ev'ning on the quilted hearth,
Or warmer knee, caress'd and often strok'd,
Till gratitude awakes and lulls the ear
With drowsy murmurs of internal praise.
Look but abroad, and lo! the cheerful moon,
Long since ascended from her cloudy couch,
High over head presides. Frost-loving Queen,
At winter's midnight how intense the grace
Which thy pure globe displays! The sullen sun,
How fled he discontent, a little curve
His hasty march describing, a few hours
Quenching his feeble beam! But thy clear orb
Delights to linger o'er a frozen world.
How sweetly rose it o'er yon woody hill,
How gaily smil'd upon the tranquil flood,
Seen from the bridge that overstrides the vale,
And now how glows it in the midst of heaven!
Methinks, I feel thy beam. My heart at least
Is warm'd, is melted by thy sovereign ray.
And oh! like thee, that ev'ry friend we own
Were most indulgent in an hour like this.
Beautiful art thou; and if thou art fair,
How fair is He whose wonder-working hand
Thy beauty fram'd! If to thy lovely orb
I almost bow and hail thee as divine,
What adoration would my soul o'erflow,
Might I the cloud that curtains Him around
Withdraw, and see him beauteous as he is?
Fountain of elegance, unseen thyself,
What limit owns thy beauty, when thy works
Seem to possess, to faculties like mine,
Perfection infinite? The merest speck
Of animated matter, to the eye
That studiously surveys the wise design,
Is a full volume of abundant art.
If to the spot invisible we strain
Our aching sight, and with microptic tube
Bring it at last within our feeble ken,
What beauty owns it not? what crowded grace?
No point to Thee so delicately fine
Can reason fancy, where thy curious hand
May not have couch'd innumerable charms,
Could we down stretch our slender faculty,
Our visual ray so feculent and dull,
And read the wonders microscopic eye
Has taught us never, and shall never learn.
The hearth burns clear, and a blue lambent flame
Plays round its glowing embers. Ill endures
The limb protruded its shin-piercing power,
And the scorch'd eyelid intervention asks
Of handkerchief uplifted, doubled news,
Hand ill at ease, or tipsey-footed screen.
The fev'rous kettle with internal coil
And ebullition totters on the bars,
Forth sending furious from its brazen lungs
Intense evaporation, fog and dew
Instinct with fire, to hand that dares approach
Intolerable as the parching gust
Sirocco, from the burning desert blown.
With folded feet inverted slumbers puss
The livelong ev'ning on the quilted hearth,
Or warmer knee, caress'd and often strok'd,
Till gratitude awakes and lulls the ear
128
Look but abroad, and lo! the cheerful moon,
Long since ascended from her cloudy couch,
High over head presides. Frost-loving Queen,
At winter's midnight how intense the grace
Which thy pure globe displays! The sullen sun,
How fled he discontent, a little curve
His hasty march describing, a few hours
Quenching his feeble beam! But thy clear orb
Delights to linger o'er a frozen world.
How sweetly rose it o'er yon woody hill,
How gaily smil'd upon the tranquil flood,
Seen from the bridge that overstrides the vale,
And now how glows it in the midst of heaven!
Methinks, I feel thy beam. My heart at least
Is warm'd, is melted by thy sovereign ray.
And oh! like thee, that ev'ry friend we own
Were most indulgent in an hour like this.
Beautiful art thou; and if thou art fair,
How fair is He whose wonder-working hand
Thy beauty fram'd! If to thy lovely orb
I almost bow and hail thee as divine,
129
Might I the cloud that curtains Him around
Withdraw, and see him beauteous as he is?
Fountain of elegance, unseen thyself,
What limit owns thy beauty, when thy works
Seem to possess, to faculties like mine,
Perfection infinite? The merest speck
Of animated matter, to the eye
That studiously surveys the wise design,
Is a full volume of abundant art.
If to the spot invisible we strain
Our aching sight, and with microptic tube
Bring it at last within our feeble ken,
What beauty owns it not? what crowded grace?
No point to Thee so delicately fine
Can reason fancy, where thy curious hand
May not have couch'd innumerable charms,
Could we down stretch our slender faculty,
Our visual ray so feculent and dull,
And read the wonders microscopic eye
Has taught us never, and shall never learn.
Is it no pleasure, when prevailing frost
Has harden'd earth's dank surface, and the foot
Treads upon rock where erst it sank absorb'd—
Is it no pleasure, ere the rising sun
Has drawn away the raw unwholesome fog
That dwells upon the vale, to venture forth
And mark the wonders of the midnight rime;
To pace it briskly o'er the plain, beset
With bents and rushes fear, erewhile erect
And little notic'd, nodding now, superb
As plumes upon the hearse, or rosy brow
Of beauty deck'd for conquest in the dance?
Where are the treasuries of water now?
Delicate element, wherever lodg'd,
How shuns thy fearful fluid the keen touch
Of arrow-breathing frost, o'er ev'ry plash,
And ev'ry furrow of the ploughing wheel,
And ev'ry socket which the pastern left
Erewhile impeded, a transparent plate,
Studded with beads or crystal spikes serene,
Relinquishing, and shrinking into earth!
The very flood, that but a fair day since
Spread wide his thin invasion, is constrain'd
Within his barrier. His arrested tide
In fragments hangs suspended o'er the dyke
Hollow beneath, and bursting with loud crash
Surprises oft both traveller and steed,
Startled alike at its immediate fall.
Touch'd by the genial orb, the scatter'd rime,
That whiten'd ev'ry meadow, steals away;
Save where the molehill intercepts the beam,
Or steepy brow, or intervening hedge,
Or furrow westward tending. On each blade
Of the flock-nibbled field it hangs serene
In brilliant dew-drops, twinkling bright as stars,
Another heav'n, which the clear orb of day
Not quenches but illumes, a dazzling shew
Of constellations kindled as we pass;
Reflecting some his introverted beam
Pure as deriv'd, his hue of orange some
Presenting only, sparks of amber deem'd.
130
Treads upon rock where erst it sank absorb'd—
Is it no pleasure, ere the rising sun
Has drawn away the raw unwholesome fog
That dwells upon the vale, to venture forth
And mark the wonders of the midnight rime;
To pace it briskly o'er the plain, beset
With bents and rushes fear, erewhile erect
And little notic'd, nodding now, superb
As plumes upon the hearse, or rosy brow
Of beauty deck'd for conquest in the dance?
Where are the treasuries of water now?
Delicate element, wherever lodg'd,
How shuns thy fearful fluid the keen touch
Of arrow-breathing frost, o'er ev'ry plash,
And ev'ry furrow of the ploughing wheel,
And ev'ry socket which the pastern left
Erewhile impeded, a transparent plate,
Studded with beads or crystal spikes serene,
Relinquishing, and shrinking into earth!
The very flood, that but a fair day since
Spread wide his thin invasion, is constrain'd
131
In fragments hangs suspended o'er the dyke
Hollow beneath, and bursting with loud crash
Surprises oft both traveller and steed,
Startled alike at its immediate fall.
Touch'd by the genial orb, the scatter'd rime,
That whiten'd ev'ry meadow, steals away;
Save where the molehill intercepts the beam,
Or steepy brow, or intervening hedge,
Or furrow westward tending. On each blade
Of the flock-nibbled field it hangs serene
In brilliant dew-drops, twinkling bright as stars,
Another heav'n, which the clear orb of day
Not quenches but illumes, a dazzling shew
Of constellations kindled as we pass;
Reflecting some his introverted beam
Pure as deriv'd, his hue of orange some
Presenting only, sparks of amber deem'd.
Again night passes, and severer frost
Binds fast impeded nature. Soon as morn
Kindles, the village younker tries his foot
Upon the frozen margin of the pool,
Fearful to venture on the slippery floor,
Lest, bursting with abrupt and hideous crash,
It drown his instep, and his naily shoe
Drench with the chilling element below.
Bold with success, he tries a daring stroke
Along its verge, and now magnanimous
Darts o'er the fragile center of the flood
His long resounding slide. Safe borne to shore,
He turns impatient, and with rushing heel
Shapes o'er the pond his parallel return.
Then round and round he leads his gliding team
Of school-mates well-assur'd, and panting sport
Glows with her effort, nor bestows a thought
Upon the lurking peril of her game.
Binds fast impeded nature. Soon as morn
Kindles, the village younker tries his foot
Upon the frozen margin of the pool,
132
Lest, bursting with abrupt and hideous crash,
It drown his instep, and his naily shoe
Drench with the chilling element below.
Bold with success, he tries a daring stroke
Along its verge, and now magnanimous
Darts o'er the fragile center of the flood
His long resounding slide. Safe borne to shore,
He turns impatient, and with rushing heel
Shapes o'er the pond his parallel return.
Then round and round he leads his gliding team
Of school-mates well-assur'd, and panting sport
Glows with her effort, nor bestows a thought
Upon the lurking peril of her game.
Oft let me ponder on thy strong control,
Thou wonder-working frost, that in a night
The miry way, impassable at eve,
Converts to iron, which nor foot, nor wheel,
Nor tool can penetrate—covers the lake,
E'en to the kicksey vulnerable erst,
With adamantine war-defying shield,
Which braves the pressure of a host unhurt—
Arrests the rivulet—the river binds—
Lays its imperious mandate on the gulph,
And fetters navigation to its shore—
In resolute embrace the whaler locks
Amid sea anchor'd, fearless of surprise—
And launches now a continent of ice
To wreck the war-ship in the midmost deep.
Thou wonder-working frost, that in a night
The miry way, impassable at eve,
Converts to iron, which nor foot, nor wheel,
Nor tool can penetrate—covers the lake,
E'en to the kicksey vulnerable erst,
With adamantine war-defying shield,
Which braves the pressure of a host unhurt—
133
Lays its imperious mandate on the gulph,
And fetters navigation to its shore—
In resolute embrace the whaler locks
Amid sea anchor'd, fearless of surprise—
And launches now a continent of ice
To wreck the war-ship in the midmost deep.
Wild flies the mid-day vapour dense and foul,
And soon shall come the fall. O'er the blue deep
Of beauteous ether trails the lazy cloud,
A sable fleece, repository dark
Of murky snows unwinnow'd, stooping low,
Lambent already of the topmost hill.
Few flakes of ev'ry size float through the air,
As undetermin'd or to rise or fall:
Caught by the circling eddy of the breeze,
Lo! now they mingle all in rapid dance,
And with a sweep descend. A feathery show'r
Of flakes enormous follows, 'lighting soft
As cygnet's down, or egret from the head
Of thistle ravish'd. Oft against the shower
Homeward returns the steeple-loving daw,
But, blinded still, with agitated wing
Down drops, struggling in vain, and to the branch,
Which midway meets him in his worried flight,
Retires defeated. To his early couch,
The golden lap of the vast western cloud
Which spreads beneath him its capacious bed,
Hastens the sun, or through the saffron skirt
Of the dark cloud that overtakes his orb
Snow-shedding, with dishevell'd beams aslant
Disorder'd smiles. In his pale watery ray
Glitters the distant vane and gilded clock.
Night follows, muffled in profoundest gloom.
The sullen gale howls in the dismal elm,
Or in the chimney groans, with sudden gust
Oft forcing downward a sulphureous puff
Noisome below. Against the window pelts,
Scarce heard, at intervals, the frozen show'r,
And, ev'ry crevice ent'ring, piles within
Drift unperceiv'd of its thrice-bolted flake.
And soon shall come the fall. O'er the blue deep
Of beauteous ether trails the lazy cloud,
A sable fleece, repository dark
Of murky snows unwinnow'd, stooping low,
Lambent already of the topmost hill.
Few flakes of ev'ry size float through the air,
As undetermin'd or to rise or fall:
Caught by the circling eddy of the breeze,
Lo! now they mingle all in rapid dance,
And with a sweep descend. A feathery show'r
Of flakes enormous follows, 'lighting soft
As cygnet's down, or egret from the head
Of thistle ravish'd. Oft against the shower
Homeward returns the steeple-loving daw,
134
Down drops, struggling in vain, and to the branch,
Which midway meets him in his worried flight,
Retires defeated. To his early couch,
The golden lap of the vast western cloud
Which spreads beneath him its capacious bed,
Hastens the sun, or through the saffron skirt
Of the dark cloud that overtakes his orb
Snow-shedding, with dishevell'd beams aslant
Disorder'd smiles. In his pale watery ray
Glitters the distant vane and gilded clock.
Night follows, muffled in profoundest gloom.
The sullen gale howls in the dismal elm,
Or in the chimney groans, with sudden gust
Oft forcing downward a sulphureous puff
Noisome below. Against the window pelts,
Scarce heard, at intervals, the frozen show'r,
And, ev'ry crevice ent'ring, piles within
Drift unperceiv'd of its thrice-bolted flake.
How chang'd the day-break! The bright yester sun
Led forth a peerless morn, and smiling scal'd
The still meridian of heav'n's ample dome,
Cloudless, and lin'd with an unspotted vest
Of purest blue; while laughing earth beneath
Shew'd no reluctant verdure, well content,
However keen the season, to expand
Her vernal mantle o'er the humid field.
Now breaks, in vapour wrapt, the piercing dawn.
Unusual light upon the ceiling thrown
Wakes from its slumber the suspicious eye,
And bids it look abroad on hill, and dale,
Cottage, and steeple, in the niveous stole
Of Winter trimly dress'd. The silent show'r,
Precipitated still, no breeze disturbs,
While fine as dust it falls. Deep on the face
Of the wide landscape lies the spotless flood
Accumulating still, a vast expanse,
Save where the frowning wood without a leaf
Rears its dark branches on the distant hill,
Or hedge-row, ill-discern'd, with dreary length
Strides o'er the vale encumber'd, or lone church
Stands vested weatherward in snowy pall,
Conspicuous half, half not to be discern'd.
The yester wain, that thunder'd as it pass'd,
Nor made impression on the rugged plain
With frozen sockets rough, now softly moves,
And labours silent through the feathery drift,
As if its every wheel and every hoof
Were shod with noiseless felt or stiller down.
How fair the deluge that enwraps the hill!
Its whiteness shames the murky cloud above,
Makes ocean turbid seem and doubly foul,
And to the sullied aspect of the cliff
Allows no neatness. What if the clear orb
Of night or day from the pure vault of heaven
Look unimpeded down! How glowing then
The thrice-bleach'd purity of earth beneath,
Wrapt like a spirit in a blaze of light!
And how excels her splendor, well oppos'd
By the deep azure of the heav'n above!
Led forth a peerless morn, and smiling scal'd
The still meridian of heav'n's ample dome,
135
Of purest blue; while laughing earth beneath
Shew'd no reluctant verdure, well content,
However keen the season, to expand
Her vernal mantle o'er the humid field.
Now breaks, in vapour wrapt, the piercing dawn.
Unusual light upon the ceiling thrown
Wakes from its slumber the suspicious eye,
And bids it look abroad on hill, and dale,
Cottage, and steeple, in the niveous stole
Of Winter trimly dress'd. The silent show'r,
Precipitated still, no breeze disturbs,
While fine as dust it falls. Deep on the face
Of the wide landscape lies the spotless flood
Accumulating still, a vast expanse,
Save where the frowning wood without a leaf
Rears its dark branches on the distant hill,
Or hedge-row, ill-discern'd, with dreary length
Strides o'er the vale encumber'd, or lone church
Stands vested weatherward in snowy pall,
Conspicuous half, half not to be discern'd.
The yester wain, that thunder'd as it pass'd,
136
With frozen sockets rough, now softly moves,
And labours silent through the feathery drift,
As if its every wheel and every hoof
Were shod with noiseless felt or stiller down.
How fair the deluge that enwraps the hill!
Its whiteness shames the murky cloud above,
Makes ocean turbid seem and doubly foul,
And to the sullied aspect of the cliff
Allows no neatness. What if the clear orb
Of night or day from the pure vault of heaven
Look unimpeded down! How glowing then
The thrice-bleach'd purity of earth beneath,
Wrapt like a spirit in a blaze of light!
And how excels her splendor, well oppos'd
By the deep azure of the heav'n above!
Short is the pleasure of the transient gleam.
The penetrating breeze, whose frozen gale,
Midway the seldom-breathing East between
And North of arrowy lungs, blows from a cave
Of everlasting ice redundant cloud
And the strong current of perpetual snow,
Sweeps from the hoary brow of shuddering earth
Her powder'd wreath, strips her broad shoulders bare,
And mingles with its fine and rapid shower
The flakes that settled on her breast in vain.
With insult riotous aloft in air
It lifts the deluge, from the summit swept,
And drifts it deep along the vale below.
How stings the gust, distressful to the face
And ill-defended ear, while o'er the plain,
Screen'd by no hedge-row, lies the bitter path!
And how delights the persecuted cheek
To meet the glowing shelter of high wood,
Or garden wall prolix, or endless pale!
Pure shines the flake we trample, crusted o'er
With icy plate, where'er the feeble ray
Of the short morning gleam dissolv'd awhile
Its dazzling treasures. Yet sustains it not
The tread of passenger alert, but, crush'd
And forcibly condens'd, complains aloud
Of the hard pressure of his froward foot.
Incessant frost prevails. In every nook,
Key-hole, and angle, howls the whiffling gust,
And quaintly imitates man's whisp'ring voice,
His sigh, and groan profound. Snow falls apace.
On either margin of the rippling brook
Appears a border of encroaching ice,
Which o'er its surface creeps. Under its wings,
Chastely transparent, merrily alive,
Glides unarrested still the living stream.
Fresh at the bottom, mindless of the storm,
Smiles the green cress aquatic; till at length,
Spike after spike advancing, in midstream
The furrowy surface closes. Ill-discern'd
And all unheard travels the brook beneath;
Nor seldom, by the ceaseless drift o'erwhelm'd,
Lives unperceiv'd, and the deep-plunging foot
Wraps without notice in suffusion chill.
Slow moves the torpid river: flakes of ice
Stoop from the bank to kiss his shrinking stream,
Which, lazily advancing, yet appears
To reek with labour. On his surface float
Isles desolate and horrid, snow-besprent,
Of his own frozen waters. Change is near.
Slow falls the weary flake, and yon dun cloud
Briskly ascending from the cottage hearth,
Pillar voluminous of lofty smoke,
Foretells that soon their idle lapse shall cease.
Lo! it subsides. The foul depending cloud
Draws ling'ring upward its apparent skirt,
And through its sever'd fleece shews ill-refin'd
The welcome azure. O'er the city swells
The cloud prodigious of uplifted smoke,
Wrapping her distant steeples in eclipse
Soon to be swept away. Yet ere the shut
Of evening comes, shall the departing beam
Of the low sun delight us, and the moon,
Soon as he disappears, in the fair east
Rise ample-orb'd upon a waste of snow.
The penetrating breeze, whose frozen gale,
Midway the seldom-breathing East between
And North of arrowy lungs, blows from a cave
Of everlasting ice redundant cloud
And the strong current of perpetual snow,
137
Her powder'd wreath, strips her broad shoulders bare,
And mingles with its fine and rapid shower
The flakes that settled on her breast in vain.
With insult riotous aloft in air
It lifts the deluge, from the summit swept,
And drifts it deep along the vale below.
How stings the gust, distressful to the face
And ill-defended ear, while o'er the plain,
Screen'd by no hedge-row, lies the bitter path!
And how delights the persecuted cheek
To meet the glowing shelter of high wood,
Or garden wall prolix, or endless pale!
Pure shines the flake we trample, crusted o'er
With icy plate, where'er the feeble ray
Of the short morning gleam dissolv'd awhile
Its dazzling treasures. Yet sustains it not
The tread of passenger alert, but, crush'd
And forcibly condens'd, complains aloud
Of the hard pressure of his froward foot.
Incessant frost prevails. In every nook,
Key-hole, and angle, howls the whiffling gust,
138
His sigh, and groan profound. Snow falls apace.
On either margin of the rippling brook
Appears a border of encroaching ice,
Which o'er its surface creeps. Under its wings,
Chastely transparent, merrily alive,
Glides unarrested still the living stream.
Fresh at the bottom, mindless of the storm,
Smiles the green cress aquatic; till at length,
Spike after spike advancing, in midstream
The furrowy surface closes. Ill-discern'd
And all unheard travels the brook beneath;
Nor seldom, by the ceaseless drift o'erwhelm'd,
Lives unperceiv'd, and the deep-plunging foot
Wraps without notice in suffusion chill.
Slow moves the torpid river: flakes of ice
Stoop from the bank to kiss his shrinking stream,
Which, lazily advancing, yet appears
To reek with labour. On his surface float
Isles desolate and horrid, snow-besprent,
Of his own frozen waters. Change is near.
Slow falls the weary flake, and yon dun cloud
139
Pillar voluminous of lofty smoke,
Foretells that soon their idle lapse shall cease.
Lo! it subsides. The foul depending cloud
Draws ling'ring upward its apparent skirt,
And through its sever'd fleece shews ill-refin'd
The welcome azure. O'er the city swells
The cloud prodigious of uplifted smoke,
Wrapping her distant steeples in eclipse
Soon to be swept away. Yet ere the shut
Of evening comes, shall the departing beam
Of the low sun delight us, and the moon,
Soon as he disappears, in the fair east
Rise ample-orb'd upon a waste of snow.
Meantime what pleasure yields the rural walk!
Delights it not to pass the thresher's close,
What time with instant wing from their scant meal
Of winnow'd draff the sparrow swarm upspring?
The mingled hurry of their sounding plumes
How startles it the ear, while they alert
Along the hedge-row show'r, or sit aloft,
And from the summit of the leafless elm
Excessive chirpings pour; fond parliament,
Where all are speakers, and none sits to hear!
Delights it not to pass the thresher's close,
What time with instant wing from their scant meal
Of winnow'd draff the sparrow swarm upspring?
The mingled hurry of their sounding plumes
How startles it the ear, while they alert
Along the hedge-row show'r, or sit aloft,
And from the summit of the leafless elm
140
Where all are speakers, and none sits to hear!
In thick and horrent coat, no longer sleek,
With heels unclipp'd, and shaggy mane promiss,
In his lone corner stands the leering colt,
At leisure relishing his scanty meal
Of thin up-shaken forage. To the cow,
That with a wishful look his feast surveys
At fearful distance fix'd, from his white eye
Revers'd he flashes indignation strong
And peremptory menace, crouching close,
And trampling loose on his vindictive heel,
With sullen down-laid ear. Not far remote,
Round the sweet remnant of the hoarded rick
Slic'd to a core, or solitary wain
In the still bottom of the shelter'd vale
For their subsistence plac'd, convenes the flock,
Of their approaching meal-time duly aware.
Eagerly throng they, as of yore they troop'd
In the dry summer's eve, with hurried bell
And dust-provoking tread, to village pool,
Or valley trough from the near well supplied.
With heels unclipp'd, and shaggy mane promiss,
In his lone corner stands the leering colt,
At leisure relishing his scanty meal
Of thin up-shaken forage. To the cow,
That with a wishful look his feast surveys
At fearful distance fix'd, from his white eye
Revers'd he flashes indignation strong
And peremptory menace, crouching close,
And trampling loose on his vindictive heel,
With sullen down-laid ear. Not far remote,
Round the sweet remnant of the hoarded rick
Slic'd to a core, or solitary wain
In the still bottom of the shelter'd vale
For their subsistence plac'd, convenes the flock,
Of their approaching meal-time duly aware.
Eagerly throng they, as of yore they troop'd
In the dry summer's eve, with hurried bell
And dust-provoking tread, to village pool,
Or valley trough from the near well supplied.
141
Subdued by hunger, the poor feathery tribes
Small dread of man retain, though wounded oft,
Oft slain, or scar'd by his resounding tube.
The fieldfare grey, and he of ruddier wing,
Hop o'er the field unheeding, easy prey
To him whose heart has adamant enough
To level thunder at their humbled race.
The sable bird melodious from the bough
No longer springs, alert and clamorous,
Short flight and sudden with transparent wing
Along the dyke performing, fit by fit.
Shudd'ring he sits, in horrent coat outswoln.
Despair has made him silent, and he falls
From his lov'd hawthorn, of its berry spoil'd,
A wasted skeleton, shot through and through
By the near-aiming sportsman. Lovely bird,
So end thy sorrows, and so ends thy song.
Never again in the still summer's eve,
Or early dawn of purple-vested morn,
Shalt thou be heard, or solitary song
Whistle contented from the watery bough,
What time the sun flings o'er the dewy earth
An unexpected beam, fringing with flame
The cloud immense, whose shower-shedding folds
Have all day dwelt upon a delug'd world.
No, thy sweet pipe is mute, it sings no more.
Small dread of man retain, though wounded oft,
Oft slain, or scar'd by his resounding tube.
The fieldfare grey, and he of ruddier wing,
Hop o'er the field unheeding, easy prey
To him whose heart has adamant enough
To level thunder at their humbled race.
The sable bird melodious from the bough
No longer springs, alert and clamorous,
Short flight and sudden with transparent wing
Along the dyke performing, fit by fit.
Shudd'ring he sits, in horrent coat outswoln.
Despair has made him silent, and he falls
From his lov'd hawthorn, of its berry spoil'd,
A wasted skeleton, shot through and through
By the near-aiming sportsman. Lovely bird,
So end thy sorrows, and so ends thy song.
Never again in the still summer's eve,
Or early dawn of purple-vested morn,
Shalt thou be heard, or solitary song
Whistle contented from the watery bough,
What time the sun flings o'er the dewy earth
142
The cloud immense, whose shower-shedding folds
Have all day dwelt upon a delug'd world.
No, thy sweet pipe is mute, it sings no more.
High on the topmost branches of the elm
In sable conversation sits the flock
Of social starlings, the withdrawing beam
Enjoying, supperless, of hasty day.
In sable conversation sits the flock
Of social starlings, the withdrawing beam
Enjoying, supperless, of hasty day.
Half-starv'd and petrified, the pigeon mopes
With bloated plumage on the dove-house tile,
And seems forgetful of his amorous bow
And note of love profound. No more he starts
With loud applauding wing from his hush'd cove,
Nor sweeps with swift career the snowy down.
With bloated plumage on the dove-house tile,
And seems forgetful of his amorous bow
And note of love profound. No more he starts
With loud applauding wing from his hush'd cove,
Nor sweeps with swift career the snowy down.
But most of all subdued, or fearful least
Of man's society, with ruddy breast
Against the window beats, sagacious bird,
The robin. At the door half open left
Or by the gale unlatch'd, or narrow pass
Of air-admitting casement, or (to him
Sufficient port) the splinter'd aperture
Of attic pane demolish'd, with a flirt
Enters the fledg'd intruder. He has left
His haunt divine, the woodhouse and the barn,
A feathery mendicant made bold by want,
And ev'ry little action asks aloud,
Alms the most indigent might well afford,
A drop of water and a crumb of bread.
Timid and sleek upon the floor he hops,
His ev'ry feather clutch'd, all ear, all eye,
And, springing swift at the first sound he hears,
Thumps for dismission on the healthy pane.
Sweet beggar, no. Impenetrable glass
Has clos'd around thee its transparent cage,
Escape denying. Satisfy thy need,
And, having fed, be free. Beneath my chair
Sit budge, a feathery bunch; upon its staves
Polish thy clatt'ring beak; with head revers'd
Dress ev'ry plume that decks thy plain surtout,
And either pinion of thy slender wing;
With bridled bill thy ruddy bosom smooth,
And, all perform'd, delight me, if thou wilt,
With a faint sample of contented song,
Concise and sweet. Then flit around the room,
Cheerful though silent, seizing with an air
Each crumb diminutive which the last meal
Dropt unperceiv'd, and the religious broom
Unconscious left upon the woven floor,
Or which the hand of charity lets fall
Not grudging. Banquet here, and sleep to-night,
And, when thy morning meal is finish'd, fly;
Nothing unwelcome if thou dare return,
And daily seek the hospitable feast,
Strew'd to invite thee on the casement ledge.
Of man's society, with ruddy breast
Against the window beats, sagacious bird,
The robin. At the door half open left
Or by the gale unlatch'd, or narrow pass
Of air-admitting casement, or (to him
Sufficient port) the splinter'd aperture
Of attic pane demolish'd, with a flirt
143
His haunt divine, the woodhouse and the barn,
A feathery mendicant made bold by want,
And ev'ry little action asks aloud,
Alms the most indigent might well afford,
A drop of water and a crumb of bread.
Timid and sleek upon the floor he hops,
His ev'ry feather clutch'd, all ear, all eye,
And, springing swift at the first sound he hears,
Thumps for dismission on the healthy pane.
Sweet beggar, no. Impenetrable glass
Has clos'd around thee its transparent cage,
Escape denying. Satisfy thy need,
And, having fed, be free. Beneath my chair
Sit budge, a feathery bunch; upon its staves
Polish thy clatt'ring beak; with head revers'd
Dress ev'ry plume that decks thy plain surtout,
And either pinion of thy slender wing;
With bridled bill thy ruddy bosom smooth,
And, all perform'd, delight me, if thou wilt,
With a faint sample of contented song,
Concise and sweet. Then flit around the room,
144
Each crumb diminutive which the last meal
Dropt unperceiv'd, and the religious broom
Unconscious left upon the woven floor,
Or which the hand of charity lets fall
Not grudging. Banquet here, and sleep to-night,
And, when thy morning meal is finish'd, fly;
Nothing unwelcome if thou dare return,
And daily seek the hospitable feast,
Strew'd to invite thee on the casement ledge.
Soon as eve closes, the loud-hooting owl,
That loves the turbulent and frosty night,
Perches aloft upon the rocking elm,
And hallooes to the moon. She mounting slow
Steers her wild voyage through a troubled sea
Of dissipated scud, apparent oft,
Oft intercepted by the billowy skirt
Of the fleet vapour, oft in part o'ercome,
Yet still victorious, be the storm how rude,
And nothing later at the port she seeks,
Retarded by the tide of adverse cloud.
That loves the turbulent and frosty night,
Perches aloft upon the rocking elm,
And hallooes to the moon. She mounting slow
Steers her wild voyage through a troubled sea
Of dissipated scud, apparent oft,
Oft intercepted by the billowy skirt
Of the fleet vapour, oft in part o'ercome,
Yet still victorious, be the storm how rude,
And nothing later at the port she seeks,
Retarded by the tide of adverse cloud.
Come, cheerful season, when the village-clerk
With slips of evergreen his long aisle decks,
When cottage maids alert their windows trim
With the red berry and the varnish'd leaf
Of holly never sear, and hang on high
The tufted misletoe. It wins me much;
And, childish as the sage may deem the toil,
My hand shall help to decorate the pane.
The peasant female now, with finger nice
And curious scissar, fashions for her child
The paper ornament, and crowns his brow
And decorates his skirt with fair device.
Proud of his honours, at the pastor's door
He sings and shudders, chanting carol rude
Of comfort and of joy. His labour'd song
Humanity within hears with a smile,
Admires the casual tremor of its tones,
And the loose halfpenny with glad consent
Upon the frozen quaverer bestows.
145
When cottage maids alert their windows trim
With the red berry and the varnish'd leaf
Of holly never sear, and hang on high
The tufted misletoe. It wins me much;
And, childish as the sage may deem the toil,
My hand shall help to decorate the pane.
The peasant female now, with finger nice
And curious scissar, fashions for her child
The paper ornament, and crowns his brow
And decorates his skirt with fair device.
Proud of his honours, at the pastor's door
He sings and shudders, chanting carol rude
Of comfort and of joy. His labour'd song
Humanity within hears with a smile,
Admires the casual tremor of its tones,
And the loose halfpenny with glad consent
Upon the frozen quaverer bestows.
Soon from the moist Antarctic breathes the gale,
And its ill-molten shower of arrowy sleet,
Storm fracture threat'ning of the pelted pane,
Scatters aslant and sloping to the breeze.
Awhile congealing on the trunk expos'd
Of the lone tree, or timber stretch'd at length,
Or stile unshelter'd, or storm-facing gate,
Or slippery surface of uncover'd rock,
An icy coat it spreads around serene,
With gelid welcome the protruded hand
Surprising unobserv'd, beguiling too
Ofttimes the foot unwary, and with fall
Disgraceful vexing the confounded man,
All overwhelm'd and flound'ring in the drift.
Partial and brief the shower; for now a mist
Draws o'er the distant hill its dusky veil,
Now hovers in the valley, now involves
The total landscape, leaving to the eye
Small hemisphere and dark, a little world
Few yards encompassing, a cloudy coop,
That with the mover moves, and coops him still.
Touch'd by the trailing fog the mountain snows
Dissolve, and, hast'ning to the vale below,
Unite their waters, till combin'd in one
They fret the midway hill and gully deep
His flinty side. Insufferably foul
The thicken'd torrent hurries down the vale,
And, every basin fill'd that stay'd its march,
Steers for the deep with still-increasing tide,
Till from the precipice abrupt it pours,
A foamy cataract that roars aloud,
And tinctures far beneath the decent vest
Of ocean fretful at its wild embrace.
The snowy pall from hill and dale slow thaw
At length removes, save where the tardy drift,
In dissolution ling'ring, last expires.
Ten thousand currents, tinctur'd by the soil
From whence they issue, hurry to the main.
E'en Ouse her silver purity has lost
And feminine deportment. Full of shame,
And wroth at her adulterated stream,
She flounces seaward, and complains aloud
To parent ocean of the wrong she feels.
Turbid and brown into the greedy deep,
Sated with feculence, the chider falls.
And its ill-molten shower of arrowy sleet,
Storm fracture threat'ning of the pelted pane,
Scatters aslant and sloping to the breeze.
146
Of the lone tree, or timber stretch'd at length,
Or stile unshelter'd, or storm-facing gate,
Or slippery surface of uncover'd rock,
An icy coat it spreads around serene,
With gelid welcome the protruded hand
Surprising unobserv'd, beguiling too
Ofttimes the foot unwary, and with fall
Disgraceful vexing the confounded man,
All overwhelm'd and flound'ring in the drift.
Partial and brief the shower; for now a mist
Draws o'er the distant hill its dusky veil,
Now hovers in the valley, now involves
The total landscape, leaving to the eye
Small hemisphere and dark, a little world
Few yards encompassing, a cloudy coop,
That with the mover moves, and coops him still.
Touch'd by the trailing fog the mountain snows
Dissolve, and, hast'ning to the vale below,
Unite their waters, till combin'd in one
They fret the midway hill and gully deep
His flinty side. Insufferably foul
147
And, every basin fill'd that stay'd its march,
Steers for the deep with still-increasing tide,
Till from the precipice abrupt it pours,
A foamy cataract that roars aloud,
And tinctures far beneath the decent vest
Of ocean fretful at its wild embrace.
The snowy pall from hill and dale slow thaw
At length removes, save where the tardy drift,
In dissolution ling'ring, last expires.
Ten thousand currents, tinctur'd by the soil
From whence they issue, hurry to the main.
E'en Ouse her silver purity has lost
And feminine deportment. Full of shame,
And wroth at her adulterated stream,
She flounces seaward, and complains aloud
To parent ocean of the wrong she feels.
Turbid and brown into the greedy deep,
Sated with feculence, the chider falls.
Scarce disappears the deluge, when the mole,
Close pris'ner long in subterraneous cell
Frost-bound, again the miner plays, and heaves
With treble industry the mellow mound
Along the swarded vale. The shepherd's eye
With unforgiving enmity surveys
The long concatenated sweep of hills,
Whose soft and crumbling soil abridges more
The scanty pittance of his hungry fold.
Full in the pathway of his buried foe
The hollow engine of surprise he plants,
Portcullis treacherous, deceitful noose,
Which oft with sudden insult from his cave
Th' unwary toiler plucks, and hangs aloft
On dismal gibbet, swinging to the wind.
Behold! where now he undersaps the sward,
And lifts the recent soil. The passing cur
His persevering industry detects,
And stands with prick'd-up ear and lifted paw
His labours watching. In the crumbled hill
He plunges sudden his impatient feet,
And far behind him showers the loose earth
Pluck'd hastily away. With nose deep-sunk
He sniffs inquisitive, but seizes not
The wily engineer, in time aware.
Close pris'ner long in subterraneous cell
Frost-bound, again the miner plays, and heaves
148
Along the swarded vale. The shepherd's eye
With unforgiving enmity surveys
The long concatenated sweep of hills,
Whose soft and crumbling soil abridges more
The scanty pittance of his hungry fold.
Full in the pathway of his buried foe
The hollow engine of surprise he plants,
Portcullis treacherous, deceitful noose,
Which oft with sudden insult from his cave
Th' unwary toiler plucks, and hangs aloft
On dismal gibbet, swinging to the wind.
Behold! where now he undersaps the sward,
And lifts the recent soil. The passing cur
His persevering industry detects,
And stands with prick'd-up ear and lifted paw
His labours watching. In the crumbled hill
He plunges sudden his impatient feet,
And far behind him showers the loose earth
Pluck'd hastily away. With nose deep-sunk
He sniffs inquisitive, but seizes not
The wily engineer, in time aware.
149
Such pleasure, such amusement Winter yields,
To him who loves with nature to converse,
And paint her image in immortal song.
E'en from the naked February wood,
Assemblage multitudinous of boughs,
He plucks contentment. There the giant oak
Uprears contorted its enormous arm,
Despoil'd of foliage, yet not unadorn'd
In the thin frippery of lichen dress'd
E'en to its utmost finger. There the birch
With fine-spun branch and silvery rind appears;
And there, retentive of its wither'd leaf,
The beech smooth-bodied, decorated oft
With names uncouth carv'd on its sinewy trunk.
At its foot thrives the winter-loving moss,
Luxuriant most when the bare branch above
Retains no verdure. During summer's heat,
However shelter'd, it grew sear and died,
Or seem'd to die; but, the dank hour arriv'd,
Lo! how it wraps about the wreathen root
Its shaggy mantle, flourishing profuse.
What loom e'er furnish'd for imperial floor
Tapis more rich, or grateful to the foot?
What hand ere spread upon the smooth settee
Cushion more gentle, plushy pile more soft?
Nor only on the beech-root recent smiles,
Or wall of ancient edifice or field,
Or thatch decay'd that clothes the peasant's cot,
But oft amid the lean and meager turf
Of the low lawn, or hill, looks sprightly forth
The prosp'rous moss; there to the fond eye spreads
Its welcome carpet of refreshing green,
And freely blossoms in the piercing gust.
To him who loves with nature to converse,
And paint her image in immortal song.
E'en from the naked February wood,
Assemblage multitudinous of boughs,
He plucks contentment. There the giant oak
Uprears contorted its enormous arm,
Despoil'd of foliage, yet not unadorn'd
In the thin frippery of lichen dress'd
E'en to its utmost finger. There the birch
With fine-spun branch and silvery rind appears;
And there, retentive of its wither'd leaf,
The beech smooth-bodied, decorated oft
With names uncouth carv'd on its sinewy trunk.
At its foot thrives the winter-loving moss,
Luxuriant most when the bare branch above
Retains no verdure. During summer's heat,
However shelter'd, it grew sear and died,
Or seem'd to die; but, the dank hour arriv'd,
Lo! how it wraps about the wreathen root
Its shaggy mantle, flourishing profuse.
What loom e'er furnish'd for imperial floor
150
What hand ere spread upon the smooth settee
Cushion more gentle, plushy pile more soft?
Nor only on the beech-root recent smiles,
Or wall of ancient edifice or field,
Or thatch decay'd that clothes the peasant's cot,
But oft amid the lean and meager turf
Of the low lawn, or hill, looks sprightly forth
The prosp'rous moss; there to the fond eye spreads
Its welcome carpet of refreshing green,
And freely blossoms in the piercing gust.
Bleak as it is, through day's severest gloom
Appears sweet promise of the milder year.
So testify the spurs ready to burst
And blossom gaily on the pear-tree bough;
And proves especially the forked branch
Of lilac, bearing at its either point
Twin buds protuberant: proves too, beneath,
Not venturesome in vain, the pendulous flower,
That, drooping, dares unveil its modest charms
E'en to the kiss of blossom-killing frost.
Pleas'd with her beauty, the tyrannic storm
Not mars her elegance with surly touch,
But wraps his snows around her beauteous head,
And names her his for ever. Lead the year,
Thou welcome harbinger of softer days,
Drop, which, more lovely than the winnow'd flake
Which strives to hide thy charms, in the cold ear
Of Winter beauteous hang'st, and sham'st the fall
Most pure that veils thee, and extends around
Its candid drift in competition vain.
White in the shrubbery, at every turn,
Thy verdant tuft its bevy delicate
Of fair tripetalous depending flowers
Displays, and dances in the froward breeze.
Appears sweet promise of the milder year.
So testify the spurs ready to burst
And blossom gaily on the pear-tree bough;
And proves especially the forked branch
Of lilac, bearing at its either point
Twin buds protuberant: proves too, beneath,
Not venturesome in vain, the pendulous flower,
That, drooping, dares unveil its modest charms
E'en to the kiss of blossom-killing frost.
Pleas'd with her beauty, the tyrannic storm
151
But wraps his snows around her beauteous head,
And names her his for ever. Lead the year,
Thou welcome harbinger of softer days,
Drop, which, more lovely than the winnow'd flake
Which strives to hide thy charms, in the cold ear
Of Winter beauteous hang'st, and sham'st the fall
Most pure that veils thee, and extends around
Its candid drift in competition vain.
White in the shrubbery, at every turn,
Thy verdant tuft its bevy delicate
Of fair tripetalous depending flowers
Displays, and dances in the froward breeze.
Protected snug beneath the southern fence,
Lily of Lent, with diadem superb,
The monarch daffodil, uprears his head,
Nor dreads the guillotine of the keen gale.
Green at his side, with arrow-headed leaf,
Spring his attendant court, his train of peers
And peeresses superb, Ladies and Lords;
So name the rural folk the speckled cowls
That sheath the tender arum, yet alive
And yet abundant, though the sable bird
Of sweetest melody the winter long
Dwelt here, and still with persevering beak
Harrow'd the soil, soon as the mid-day sun
The chains of frost unbound; keen democrat,
Making nobility his daily bread.
Lily of Lent, with diadem superb,
The monarch daffodil, uprears his head,
Nor dreads the guillotine of the keen gale.
Green at his side, with arrow-headed leaf,
Spring his attendant court, his train of peers
And peeresses superb, Ladies and Lords;
So name the rural folk the speckled cowls
That sheath the tender arum, yet alive
152
Of sweetest melody the winter long
Dwelt here, and still with persevering beak
Harrow'd the soil, soon as the mid-day sun
The chains of frost unbound; keen democrat,
Making nobility his daily bread.
Sweet is the foretaste of returning Spring,
When, after dismal weeks of gloom and fog,
Reluctant February lifts at last
The cloudy turban from his sullen brow,
And cheers us with a short unwilling smile.
How pleasant then th' appearance here and there
Of the blue zenith through the muffled heaven!
How welcome the sun's clear but transient beam!
Its comfortable warmth the shoulder owns,
And the fond eye rejoices to survey
The shadow human, once again impress'd
Upon the bladeless turf. But soon departs
Th' invigorating gleam, and o'er the down,
Nothing retarded by intreaty, flits.
It visits now the lark, and wakes his song,
Now cheers the shepherd and his pregnant flock,
Now climbs the mountain, and is seen no more.
When, after dismal weeks of gloom and fog,
Reluctant February lifts at last
The cloudy turban from his sullen brow,
And cheers us with a short unwilling smile.
How pleasant then th' appearance here and there
Of the blue zenith through the muffled heaven!
How welcome the sun's clear but transient beam!
Its comfortable warmth the shoulder owns,
And the fond eye rejoices to survey
The shadow human, once again impress'd
Upon the bladeless turf. But soon departs
Th' invigorating gleam, and o'er the down,
Nothing retarded by intreaty, flits.
It visits now the lark, and wakes his song,
Now cheers the shepherd and his pregnant flock,
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If haply the dense curtain all withdraw,
And leave unclouded the pure vault of heaven,
How pleasant to behold the glowing sun
A more extended curve from rise to fall
Describing daily, from his billowy couch
Ascending earlier, later to his rest,
And better-pleas'd retiring with a smile!
How sweet a train of pleasurable days
Are beckon'd hither, and how soon shall dance
Each after other over down and dale!
Soon shall the vanquish'd night her empire yield,
And share the scepter with victorious day.
Darkness shall reign inferior; heav'nly light
Upon her either boundary shall steal,
Shall gird her round with beams, and dart a ray
Through the sad mantle of her dunnest hour.
How cheerfully my heart the sweet return
Of bud and bloom presages, sees ere seen
The daisy-sprinkled mead, and flowery dell,
And coppice-shelter'd primrose yet unblown!
And leave unclouded the pure vault of heaven,
How pleasant to behold the glowing sun
A more extended curve from rise to fall
Describing daily, from his billowy couch
Ascending earlier, later to his rest,
And better-pleas'd retiring with a smile!
How sweet a train of pleasurable days
Are beckon'd hither, and how soon shall dance
Each after other over down and dale!
Soon shall the vanquish'd night her empire yield,
And share the scepter with victorious day.
Darkness shall reign inferior; heav'nly light
Upon her either boundary shall steal,
Shall gird her round with beams, and dart a ray
Through the sad mantle of her dunnest hour.
How cheerfully my heart the sweet return
Of bud and bloom presages, sees ere seen
The daisy-sprinkled mead, and flowery dell,
And coppice-shelter'd primrose yet unblown!
| Poems | |