Winter

Oft times the wand'ring Muse by silence led, When pensive Night hath wrapt the world in sleep, By dewy lawns and warbling rills hath stray'd, Trod the green slope, or climb'd the craggy steep;

Or, by the margin of some weeping stream, Where spreads the sensitive its leafage fair, Watch'd the faint quiv'rings of the lunar beam, Or feeble glimmerings of some distant star;

Or, where some ragged cliff, with low'ring brow, Blackens the surface of the swelling deep, Where billows dash, and howling tempests blow, Where wizard shapes their nightly revels keep;

Or on the shelly shores, where spirits roam, Sounding their sorrows to the midnight gale, While round their steps the restless waters foam, And hollow caves respond the dismal wail.

There (as upon the flood floats the moon's rays, And rolling planets shed their silv'ry light;) There, wrapt in musings deep, and stedfast gaze, In solemn rapture hath she past the night.

But now the frighted Muse these scenes forsakes, Quits the gay forest and enamel'd plain, The shadowy vales, the smooth pellucid lakes, For Winter comes with all his blustering train—

He rolls his rapid storms along the skies; With tumult fraught, the raving tempest roars; O'er the broad beach the heaving surges rise, Groan in the winds, and foam along the shores.

With hasty wing the vernal season flies, Some happier clime, with smiles benign to charm, While the keen arctic whistles round our skies, And the tall forest nods before the storm.

Despotic Time, who guides the changing year, Blasts the fair scenes that rose at his command, And weeping Nature, desolate and drear, Owns the sad traces of his spoiling hand:

And yet, again shall this same hand unfold Winter's cold gates, and bid the fountains flow; Make rosy Spring profusely pour her gold, And bid her blossoms wear a richer glow.

The lark shall quit the solitary bush, Smooth her soft plumes, and tune her warbling tongue, While from some copse the late dejected thrush Cheers the glad vallies with a sprightly song.

Cease then, O Muse! to drop the useless tear, Ah! touch no more the melancholy string, Since Earth again the blooms of life shall wear, And wintry glooms give place to smiling Spring.