 | The Seasons |  |
20
WINTER.
An Imitation of SPENSER.
I
The little Brook that erst my Cot did lave,And o'er its flinty Pavement sweetly sung,
Doth now forget to roll her wanton Wave,
For Winter Hoar her icy Chain has flung
And still'd the babbling Music of her Tongue.
The lonely Woodcock seeks the splashy Glen,
Each Mountain Head with fleecy Snow is hung;
The Snipe and Duck enjoy the moorish Fen,
Like Eremites they live, and shun the Sight of Men.
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II
The wareless Sheep no longer bite the Mead,No more the Plough-boy turns the stubborn Ground,
At the full Crib the horned Lab'rers feed,
Their Nostrils cast black Clouds of Smoak around;
A squalid Coat doth the lean Steed surround.
The wily Fox doth prowl abroad for Prey,
Rechless of Snares, or of th'avenging Hound;
And trusty Lightfoot, now no longer gay,
Sleeps at the Kitchen Hearth his cheerless Hours away.
III
Where erst the Boat, and slowly moving Barge,Did with Delight cut thro' the dimpling Plain,
Now wanton Boys, and Men do roam at large;
The River-Gods quit their usurp'd Domain,
And of the Wrong at Neptune's Court complain.
There mote you see mild Avon crown'd with Flow'rs,
And milky Wey withouten Spot or Stain;
There the fair Stream that washes Hampton's Bow'rs,
And Isis who with Pride beholds her learned Tow'rs.
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IV
Intent on Sport, the ever jocund ThrongQuit their warm Cots, and for the Game prepare;
Behold the restless Foot-ball whirls along,
Now near the Earth, now mounted high in Air.
Thus often Men, in Life's wild Lott'ry fare,
Who quit true Bliss to grasp an empty Toy.
Our honest Swains for Wealth nor Titles care,
But lusty Health in Exercise employ.
The distant Village hears the rude, tumultuous Joy.
V
The careful Hedger looks the Fields aroundTo see what Labour may his Skill demand;
He mends the Fence, repairs the sinking Mound,
Or in long Drains he cuts the lower Land,
That shall henceforth all sudden Floods withstand.
Mean while at Home his Dame, with Silver Hair,
Doth sit incircl'd by a goodly Band
Of lovely Maids, who various Works prepare,
All chaste as Jove's wise Child, as Cupid's Mother fair.
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VI
She them discourses not of Fashions nice,Nor of the trilling Notes which Eunuchs sing,
Allurements vain, that prompt the Soul to Vice!
Ne tells she them of Kesar or of King;
Too great the Subject for so mean a Ring.
Her Lessons teach to swell the Capon's Size;
To make the Hen a num'rous Offspring bring;
Or how the way-ward Mother to chastize
When from her vetchy Nest the weetless Vagrant hies.
VII
When glist'ring Spangles deck the Robe of Night,And all their Kine in Pens avoid the Cold,
The buxom Troops, still eager of Delight,
Round Damon's Eyne a Drapet white infold,
He darkling gropes 'till he some one can hold.
Next Corin hides his Head, and must impart
What wanton fair One smote his Hand so bold.
He Delia names, nor did from Truth depart;
For well he knew her Touch, who long had fir'd his Heart.
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VIII
Stay I conjure you by your Hopes of Bliss,Trust not, my Daphne, the rough-biting Air,
Let not rude Winds those Lips of Softness kiss,
Will Eurus stern, the Charms of Beauty spare?
No, he will hurt my rosy-featur'd Fair,
If aught so bright dares rugged Carl invade,
Too tender thou such rough Assaults to bear;
The Mountain Ash may stand tho' stripp'd of Shade,
But at the slightest Wound the silken Flow'r will fade
| The Seasons | |