 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
342
THE WINTER'S EVENING.
FROM THE GREEK.
“Κοπτομενη πνοιαις τε και αρρηκτοισι χαλαζαις.”
Theocr.
The sun is sinking in the fiery west;
The clouds are rushing on their wild, wet wings;
The lightning, like an eagle from its nest,
In dazzling circles round the mountain springs;
The groaning forest in the whirlwind swings,
Strewing the marble cliffs with branches hoar;
With cries of startled wolves the valley rings:
And when the sullen sounds of earth are o'er,
Ocean lifts up his voice, and thunders on the shore.
The clouds are rushing on their wild, wet wings;
The lightning, like an eagle from its nest,
In dazzling circles round the mountain springs;
The groaning forest in the whirlwind swings,
Strewing the marble cliffs with branches hoar;
With cries of startled wolves the valley rings:
And when the sullen sounds of earth are o'er,
Ocean lifts up his voice, and thunders on the shore.
343
Now close the portal!—'Tis the hour of hours!
Though ancient Winter lords it o'er the sky,
And the snow thickens on our leafless bowers;
For now the few we love on earth are nigh.
Ianthe! shall the livelong eve pass by
Without one song from that red lip of thine?
Come, fill the bowls, and heap the faggots high!
To birds and flowers let Summer's morning shine,
To nobler man alone the Winter eve's divine.
Though ancient Winter lords it o'er the sky,
And the snow thickens on our leafless bowers;
For now the few we love on earth are nigh.
Ianthe! shall the livelong eve pass by
Without one song from that red lip of thine?
Come, fill the bowls, and heap the faggots high!
To birds and flowers let Summer's morning shine,
To nobler man alone the Winter eve's divine.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |