WINTER.
A POEM.
[]SEE! WINTER comes, to rule the varied Year,
Sullen, and ſad; with all his riſing Train,
Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms: Be theſe my Theme,
Theſe, that exalt the Soul to ſolemn Thought,
And heavenly muſing. Welcome kindred Glooms!
Wiſh'd, wint'ry, Horrors, hail!—With frequent Foot,
Pleas'd, have I, in my cheerful Morn of Life,
When, nurs'd by careleſs Solitude, I liv'd,
And ſung of Nature with unceaſing Joy,
Pleas'd, have I wander'd thro' your rough Domains;
Trod the pure, virgin, Snows, my ſelf as pure:
Heard the Winds roar, and the big Torrent burſt:
[2] Or ſeen the deep, fermenting, Tempeſt brew'd,
In the red, evening, Sky.—Thus paſs'd the Time,
Till, thro' the opening Chambers of the South,
Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and ſmil'd.
THEE too, Inſpirer of the toiling Swain!
Fair AUTUMN, yellow rob'd! I'll ſing of thee,
Of thy laſt, temper'd, Days, and ſunny Calms;
When all the golden Hours are on the Wing,
Attending thy Retreat, and round thy Wain,
Slow-rolling, onward to the Southern Sky.
BEHOLD! the well-pois'd Hornet, hovering, hangs,
With quivering Pinions, in the genial Blaze;
Flys off, in airy Circles: then returns,
And hums, and dances to the beating Ray.
Nor ſhall the Man, that, muſing, walks alone,
And, heedleſs, ſtrays within his radiant Liſts,
Go unchaſtis'd away.—Sometimes, a Fleece
Of Clouds, wide-ſcattering, with a lucid Veil,
Soft, ſhadow o'er th' unruffled Face of Heaven;
And, thro' their dewy Sluices, ſhed the Sun,
With temper'd Influence down. Then is the Time,
For thoſe, whom Wiſdom, and whom Nature charm,
To ſteal themſelves from the degenerate Croud,
And ſoar above this little Scene of Things:
To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their Feet:
[3] To lay their Paſſions in a gentle Calm,
And woo lone Quiet, in her ſilent Walks.
NOW, ſolitary, and in penſive Guiſe,
Oft, let me wander o'er the ruſſet Mead,
Or thro' the pining Grove; where ſcarce is heard
One dying Strain, to chear the Woodman's Toil:
Sad Philomel, perchance, pours forth her Plaint,
Far, thro' the withering Copſe. Mean while, the Leaves,
That, late, the Foreſt clad with lively Green,
Nipt by the drizzly Night, and Sallow-hu'd,
Fall, wavering, thro' the Air; or ſhower amain,
Urg'd by the Breeze, that ſobs amid the Boughs.
Then liſt'ning Hares forſake the ruſling Woods,
And, ſtarting at the frequent Noiſe, eſcape
To the rough Stubble, and the ruſhy Fen.
Then Woodcocks, o'er the fluctuating Main,
That glimmers to the Glimpſes of the Moon,
Stretch their long Voyage to the woodland Glade:
Where, wheeling with uncertain Flight, they mock
The nimble Fowler's Aim.—Now Nature droops;
Languiſh the living Herbs, with pale Decay:
And all the various Family of Flowers
Their ſunny Robes reſign. The falling Fruits,
Thro' the ſtill Night, forſake the Parent-Bough,
That, in the firſt, grey, Glances of the Dawn,
Looks wild, and wonders at the wintry Waſte.
[4]
THE Year, yet pleaſing, but declining faſt,
Soft, o'er the ſecret Soul, in gentle Gales,
A Philoſophic Melancholly breathes,
And bears the ſwelling Thought aloft to Heaven.
Then forming Fancy rouſes to conceive,
What never mingled with the Vulgar's Dream:
Then wake the tender Pang, the pitying Tear,
The Sigh for ſuffering Worth, the Wiſh prefer'd
For Humankind, the Joy to ſee them bleſs'd,
And all the Social Off-ſpring of the Heart!
OH! bear me then to high, embowering, Shades;
To twilight Groves, and viſionary Vales;
To weeping Grottos, and to hoary Caves;
Where Angel-Forms are ſeen, and Voices heard,
Sigh'd in low Whiſpers, that abſtract the Soul,
From outward Senſe, far into Worlds remote.
NOW, when the Weſtern Sun withdraws the Day,
And humid Evening, gliding o'er the Sky,
In her chill Progreſs, checks the ſtraggling Beams,
And robs them of their gather'd, vapoury, Prey,
Where Marſhes ſtagnate, and where Rivers wind,
Cluſter the rolling Fogs, and ſwim along
The dusky-mantled Lawn: then ſlow deſcend,
Once more to mingle with their Watry Friends.
[5] The vivid Stars ſhine out, in radiant Files;
And boundleſs Ether glows, till the fair Moon
Shows her broad Viſage, in the crimſon'd Eaſt;
Now, ſtooping, ſeems to kiſs the paſſing Cloud:
Now, o'er the pure Cerulean, rides ſublime.
Wide the pale Deluge floats, with ſilver Waves,
O'er the sky'd Mountain, to the low-laid Vale;
From the white Rocks, with dim Reflexion, gleams,
And faintly glitters thro' the waving Shades.
ALL Night, abundant Dews, unnoted, fall,
And, at Return of Morning, ſilver o'er
The Face of Mother-Earth; from every Branch
Depending, tremble the tranſlucent Gems,
And, quivering, ſeem to fall away, yet cling,
And ſparkle in the Sun, whoſe riſing Eye,
With Fogs bedim'd, portends a beauteous Day.
NOW, giddy Youth, whom headlong Paſſions fire,
Rouſe the wild Game, and ſtain the guiltleſs Grove,
With Violence, and Death; yet call it Sport,
To ſcatter Ruin thro' the Realms of Love,
And Peace, that thinks no Ill: But Theſe, the Muſe,
Whoſe Charity, unlimited, extends
As wide as Nature works, diſdains to ſing,
Returning to her nobler Theme in view—
[6]
FOR, ſee! where Winter comes, himſelf, confeſt,
Striding the gloomy Blaſt. Firſt Rains obſcure
Drive thro' the mingling Skies, with Tempeſt foul;
Beat on the Mountain's Brow, and ſhake the Woods,
That, ſounding, wave below. The dreary Plain
Lies overwhelm'd, and loſt. The bellying Clouds
Combine, and deepening into Night, ſhut up
The Day's fair Face. The Wanderers of Heaven,
Each to his Home, retire; ſave thoſe that love
To take their Paſtime in the troubled Air,
And, skimming, flutter round the dimply Flood.
The Cattle, from th' untaſted Fields, return,
And ask, with Meaning low, their wonted Stalls;
Or ruminate in the contiguous Shade:
Thither, the houſhold, feathery, People croud,
The creſted Cock, with all his female Train,
Penſive, and wet. Mean while, the Cottage-Swain
Hangs o'er th' enlivening Blaze, and, taleful, there,
Recounts his ſimple Frolic: Much he talks,
And much he laughs, nor recks the Storm that blows
Without, and rattles on his humble Roof.
AT laſt, the muddy Deluge pours along,
Reſiſtleſs, roaring; dreadful down it comes
From the chapt Mountain, and the moſſy Wild,
Tumbling thro' Rocks abrupt, and ſounding far
Then o'er the ſanded Valley, floating, ſpreads,
Calm, ſluggiſh, ſilent; till again conſtrain'd,
[7] Betwixt two meeting Hills, it burſts a Way,
Where Rocks, and Woods o'erhang the turbid Stream.
There gathering triple Force, rapid, and deep,
It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders thro'.
NATURE! great Parent! whoſe directing Hand
Rolls round the Seaſons of the changeful Year,
How mighty! how majeſtick are thy Works!
With what a pleaſing Dread they ſwell the Soul,
That ſees, aſtoniſh'd! and, aſtoniſh'd ſings!
You too, ye Winds! that now begin to blow,
With boiſterous Sweep, I raiſe my Voice to you.
Where are your Stores, ye viewleſs Beings! ſay?
Where your aerial Magazines reſerv'd,
Againſt the Day of Tempeſt perilous?
In what untravel'd Country of the Air,
Huſh'd in ſtill Silence, ſleep you, when 'tis calm?
LATE, in the louring Sky, red, fiery, Streaks
Begin to fluſh about; the reeling Clouds
Stagger with dizzy Aim, as doubting yet
Which Maſter to obey: while riſing, ſlow,
Sad, in the Leaden-colour'd Eaſt, the Moon
Wears a black Circle round her fully'd Orb.
Then iſſues forth the Storm, with loud Control,
And the thin Fabrick of the pillar'd Air
O'erturns, at once. Prone, on th' uncertain Main,
Deſcends th' Etherial Force, and plows its Waves,
[8] With dreadful Riſt: from the mid-Deep, appears,
Surge after Surge, the riſing, wat'ry, War.
Whitening, the angry Billows rowl immenſe,
And roar their Terrors, thro' the ſhuddering Soul
Of feeble Man, amidſt their Fury caught,
And, daſh'd upon his Fate: Then, o'er the Cliff,
Where dwells the Sea-Mew, unconfin'd, they fly,
And, hurrying, ſwallow up the ſteril Shore.
THE Mountain growls; and all its ſturdy Sons
Stoop to the Bottom of the Rocks they ſhade:
Lone, on its Midnight-Side, and all aghaſt,
The dark, way-faring, Stranger, breathleſs, toils,
And climbs againſt the Blaſt—
Low, waves the rooted Foreſt, vex'd, and ſheds
What of its leafy Honours yet remains.
Thus, ſtruggling thro' the diſſipated Grove,
The whirling Tempeſt raves along the Plain;
And, on the Cottage thacht, or lordly Dome,
Keen-faſtening, ſhakes 'em to the ſolid Baſe.
Sleep, frighted, flies; the hollow Chimney howls,
The Windows rattle, and the Hinges creak.
THEN, too, they ſay, thro' all the burthen'd Air,
Long Groans are heard, ſhrill Sounds, and diſtant Sighs,
That, murmur'd by the Demon of the Night,
Warn the devoted Wretch of Woe, and Death!
Wild Uproar lords it wide: the Clouds commixt,
[9] With Stars, ſwift-gliding, ſweep along the Sky.
All Nature reels.—But hark! the Almighty ſpeaks:
Inſtant, the chidden Storm begins to pant,
And dies, at once, into a noiſeleſs Calm.
AS yet, 'tis Midnight's Reign; the weary Clouds,
Slow-meeting, mingle into ſolid Gloom:
Now, while the drouſy World lies loſt in Sleep,
Let me aſſociate with the low-brow'd Night,
And Contemplation, her ſedate Compeer;
Let me ſhake off th' intruſive Cares of Day,
And lay the medling Senſes all aſide.
AND now, ye lying Vanities of Life!
You ever-tempting, ever-cheating Train!
Where are you now? and what is your Amount?
Vexation, Diſappointment, and Remorſe.
Sad, ſickening, Thought! and yet, deluded Man,
A Scene of wild, disjointed, Viſions paſt,
And broken Slumbers, riſes, ſtill reſolv'd,
With new-fluſh'd Hopes, to run your giddy Round.
FATHER of Light, and Life! Thou Good Supreme!
O! teach me what is Good! teach me thy ſelf!
Save me from Folly, Vanity and Vice,
From every low Purſuit! and feed my Soul,
With Knowledge, conſcious Peace, and Vertue pure,
Sacred, ſubſtantial, never-fading Bliſs!
[10]
LO! from the livid Eaſt, or piercing North,
Thick Clouds aſcend, in whoſe capacious Womb,
A vapoury Deluge lies, to Snow congeal'd:
Heavy, they roll their fleecy World along;
And the Sky ſaddens with th' impending Storm.
Thro' the huſh'd Air, the whitening Shower deſcends,
At firſt, thin-wavering; till, at laſt, the Flakes
Fall broad, and wide, and faſt, dimming the Day,
With a continual Flow. See! ſudden, hoar'd,
The Woods beneath the ſtainleſs Burden bow,
Blackning, along the mazy Stream it melts;
Earth's univerſal Face, deep-hid, and chill,
Is all one, dazzling, Waſte. The Labourer-Ox
Stands cover'd o'er with Snow, and then demands
The Fruit of all his Toil. The Fowls of Heaven,
Tam'd by the cruel Seaſon, croud around
The winnowing Store, and claim the little Boon,
That Providence allows. The foodleſs Wilds
Pour forth their brown Inhabitants; the Hare,
Tho' timorous of Heart, and hard beſet
By Death, in various Forms, dark Snares, and Dogs,
And more unpitying Men, the Garden ſeeks,
Urg'd on by fearleſs Want. The bleating Kind
Eye the bleak Heavens, and next, the gliſtening Earth,
With Looks of dumb Deſpair; then ſad, diſpers'd,
Dig, for the wither'd Herb, thro' Heaps of Snow.
NOW, Shepherds, to your helpleſs Charge be kind;
Baffle the raging Year, and fill their Penns
[11] With Food, at will: lodge them below the Blaſt,
And watch them ſtrict; for from the bellowing Eaſt,
In this dire Seaſon, oft the Whirlwind's Wing
Sweeps up the Burthen of whole wintry Plains,
In one fierce Blaſt, and o'er th' unhappy Flocks,
Lodg'd in the Hollow of two neighbouring Hills,
The billowy Tempeſt whelms; till, upwards urg'd,
The Valley to a ſhining Mountain ſwells,
That curls its Wreaths amid the freezing Sky.
NOW, all amid the Rigours of the Year,
In the wild Depth of Winter, while without
The ceaſeleſs Winds blow keen, be my Retreat
A rural, ſhelter'd, ſolitary, Scene;
Where ruddy Fire, and beaming Tapers join
To chaſe the chearleſs Gloom: there let me ſit,
And hold high Converſe with the mighty Dead,
Sages of ancient Time, as Gods rever'd,
As Gods beneficent, who bleſt Mankind,
With Arts, and Arms, and humaniz'd a World.
Rous'd at th' inſpring Thought—I throw aſide
The long-liv'd Volume, and, deep-muſing, hail
The ſacred Shades, that, ſlowly-riſing, paſs
Before my wondering Eyes—Firſt, Socrates,
Truth's early Champion, Martyr for his God:
Solon, the next, who built his Commonweal,
On Equity's firm Baſe: Lycurgus, then,
Severely good, and him of rugged Rome,
[12] Numa, who ſoften'd her rapacious Sons.
Cimon ſweet-ſoul'd, and Ariſtides juſt.
Unconquer'd Cato, virtuous in Extreme;
With that attemper'd * Heroe, mild, and firm,
Who wept the Brother, while the Tyrant bled.
Scipio, the humane Warriour, gently brave,
Fair Learning's Friend; who early ſought the Shade,
To dwell, with Innocence, and Truth, retir'd.
And, equal to the beſt, the Theban, He
Who, ſingle, rais'd his Country into Fame.
Thouſands behind, the Boaſt of Greece and Rome,
Whom Vertue owns, the Tribute of a Verſe
Demand, but who can count the Stars of Heaven?
Who ſing their Influence on this lower World?
But ſee who yonder comes! nor comes alone,
With ſober State, and of majeſtic Mien,
The Siſter-Muſes in his Train—'Tis He!
Maro! the beſt of Poets, and of Men!
Great Homer too appears, of daring Wing!
Parent of Song! and, equal, by his Side,
The Britiſh Muſe, join'd Hand in Hand, they walk,
Darkling, nor miſs their Way to Fame's Aſcent.
Society divine! Immortal Minds!
Still viſit thus my Nights, for you reſerv'd,
And mount my ſoaring Soul to Deeds like yours.
Silence! thou lonely Power! the Door be thine:
See, on the hallow'd Hour, that none intrude,
[13] Save Lycidas, the Friend, with Senſe refin'd,
Learning digeſted well, exalted Faith,
Unſtudy'd Wit, and Humour ever gay.
CLEAR Froſt ſucceeds, and thro' the blew Serene,
For Sight too fine, th' Aetherial Nitre flies,
To bake the Glebe, and bind the ſlip'ry Flood.
This of the wintry Seaſon is the Prime;
Pure are the Days, and luſtrous are the Nights,
Brighten'd with ſtarry Worlds, till then unſeen.
Mean while, the Orient, darkly red, breathes forth
An Icy Gale, that, in its mid Career,
Arreſts the bickering Stream. The nightly Sky,
And all her glowing Conſtellations pour
Their rigid Influence down: It freezes on
Till Morn, late-riſing, o'er the drooping World,
Lifts her pale Eye, unjoyous: then appears
The various Labour of the ſilent Night,
The pendant Iſicle, the Froſt-Work fair,
Where thouſand Figures riſe, the cruſted Snow,
Tho' white, made whiter, by the fining North.
On blithſome Frolics bent, the youthful Swains,
While every Work of Man is laid at Reſt,
Ruſh o'er the watry Plains, and, ſhuddering, view
The fearful Deeps below: or with the Gun,
And faithful Spaniel, range the ravag'd Fields,
And, adding to the Ruins of the Year,
Diſtreſs the Feathery, or the Footed Game.
[14]
BUT hark! the nightly Winds, with hollow Voice,
Blow, bluſtering, from the South—the Froſt ſubdu'd,
Gradual, reſolves into a weeping Thaw.
Spotted, the Mountains ſhine: looſe Sleet deſcends,
And floods the Country round: the Rivers ſwell,
Impatient for the Day.—Thoſe ſullen Seas,
That waſh th' ungenial Pole, will reſt no more,
Beneath the Shackles of the mighty North;
But, rouſing all their Waves, reſiſtleſs heave,—
And hark!—the length'ning Roar, continuous, runs
Athwart the rifted Main; at once, it burſts,
And piles a thouſand Mountains to the Clouds!
Ill fares the Bark, the Wretches' laſt Reſort,
That, loſt amid the floating Fragments, moors
Beneath the Shelter of an Icy Iſle;
While Night o'erwhelms the Sea, and Horror looks
More horrible. Can human Hearts endure
Th' aſſembled Miſchiefs, that beſiege them round:
Unliſt'ning Hunger, fainting Wearineſs,
The Roar of Winds, and Waves, the Cruſh of Ice,
Now, ceaſing, now, renew'd, with louder Rage,
And bellowing round the Main: Nations remote,
Shook from their Midnight-Slumbers, deem they hear
Portentous Thunder, in the troubled Sky.
More to embroil the Deep, Leviathan,
And his unweildy Train, in horrid Sport,
Tempeſt the looſen'd Brine; while, thro' the Gloom,
Far, from the dire, unhoſpitable Shore,
[15] The Lyon's Rage, the Wolf's ſad Howl is heard,
And all the fell Society of Night.
Yet, Providence, that ever-waking Eye
Looks down, with Pity, on the fruitleſs Toil
Of Mortals, loſt to Hope, and lights them ſafe,
Thro' all this dreary Labyrinth of Fate.
'TIS done!—Dread WINTER has ſubdu'd the Year,
And reigns, tremenduous, o'er the deſart Plains!
How dead the Vegetable Kingdom lies!
How dumb the Tuneful! Horror wide extends
His ſolitary Empire.—Now, fond Man!
Behold thy pictur'd Life: paſs ſome few Years,
Thy flow'ring SPRING, thy ſhort-liv'd SUMMER'S
Thy ſober AUTUMN, fading ito Age,
And pale, concluding, WINTER ſhuts thy Scene, Strength,
And ſhrouds Thee in the Grave—where now, are fled
Thoſe Dreams of Greatneſs? thoſe unſolid Hopes
Of Happineſs? thoſe Longings after Fame?
Thoſe reſtleſs Cares? thoſe buſy, buſtling Days?
Thoſe Nights of ſecret Guilt? thoſe veering Thoughts,
Flutt'ring 'twixt Good, and Ill, that ſhar'd thy Life?
All, now, are vaniſh'd! Vertue, ſole, ſurvives,
Immortal, Mankind's never-failing Friend,
His Guide to Happineſs on high—and ſee!
'Tis come, the Glorious Morn! the ſecond Birth
Of Heaven, and Earth!—awakening Nature hears
Th' Almighty Trumpet's Voice, and ſtarts to Life,
[16] Renew'd, unfading. Now, th' Eternal Scheme,
That Dark Perplexity, that Myſtic Maze,
Which Sight cou'd never trace, nor Heart conceive,
To Reaſon's Eye, refin'd, clears up apace.
Angels, and Men, aſtoniſh'd, pauſe—and dread
To travel thro' the Depths of Providence,
Untry'd, unbounded. Ye vain Learned! ſee,
And, proſtrate in the Duſt, adore that Power,
And Goodneſs, oft arraign'd. See now the Cauſe,
Why conſcious Worth, oppreſs'd, in ſecret long
Mourn'd, unregarded: Why the Good Man's Share
In Life, was Gall, and Bitterneſs of Soul:
Why the lone Widow, and her Orphans, pin'd,
In ſtarving Solitude; while Luxury,
In Palaces, lay prompting her low Thought,
To form unreal Wants: why Heaven-born Faith,
And Charity, prime Grace! wore the red Marks
Of Perſecution's Scourge: why licens'd Pain,
That cruel Spoiler, that emboſom'd Foe,
Imbitter'd all our Bliſs. Ye Good Diſtreſt!
Ye Noble Few! that, here, unbending, ſtand
Beneath Life's Preſſures—yet a little while,
And all your Woes are paſt. Time ſwiftly fleets,
And wiſh'd Eternity, approaching, brings
Life undecaying, Love without Allay,
Pure flowing Joy, and Happineſs ſincere.
The END.