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Fond o'er the river crowd, in various sport Raised o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk
Pure, quick, and sportful, is the wholesome day; Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north,
Drove martial horde on horde,t with fearful Or from the forest falls the clustered snow,
sweep Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam. Resistless rushing o'er the enfeebled south, Gay-twinkle as they scatter. Thick around And gave the vanquished world another form. Thunders the sport of those who with the gun, Not such the sons of Lapland: wisely they And dog impatient bounding at the shot, Despise the insensate barbarous trade of war; Worse than the Season, desolate the fields; They ask no more than simple Nature gives, And, adding to the ruins of the year,
They love their mountains, and enjoy their storms, Distress the footed or the feathered game. No false desires, no pride-created wants,
But what is this? our infant Winter sinks, Disturb the peaceful current of their time; Divested of his grandeur, should our eye And through the restless ever tortured maze Astonish'd shoot into the frigid zone;
Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage. Where, for relentless months, continual Night Their reindeer form their riches. These their Holds o'er the glittering waste her starry reign. tents, There, through the prison of unbounded wilds, Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth Barr'd by the hand of Nature from escape, Supply, their wholesome fare and cheerful cups. Wide roams the Russian exile. Nought around Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe Strikes his sad eye, but deserts lost in snow; Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift And heavy-loaded groves; and solid floods, O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse That stretch athwart the solitary waste, Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep Their icy horrors to the frozen main,
With a blue crust of ice unbounded glazed. And cheerless towns far distant, never bless'd, By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake Save when its annual course the caravan A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens, Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay,* And vivid moons, and stars that keener play With news of human-kind. Yet there life glows; With doubled lustre from the glossy waste, Yet cherish'd there beneath the shining waste, E'en in the depth of polar night, they find The furry nations harbour: tipp'd with jet, A wondrous day: enough to light the chase, Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press; Or guide their daring steps to Finland fairs. Sables of glossy black; and dark-embrown'd, Wish'd Spring returns; and from the hazy south, Or beauteous freak'd with many a mingled hue, While dim Aurora slowly moves before, Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. The welcome sun, just verging up at first, There, warm together press’d, the trooping deer By small degrees extends the swelling curve! Sleep on the new-fallen snows; and scarce his Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months, head
Still round and round, his spiral course he winds,
• The old name for China.
+ The wandering Scythian clans.
And as he nearly dips his flaming orb,
And bid to roar no more: a bleak expanse,
In these fell regions, in Arzina caught,
Still pressing on, beyond Tornea's lake, Each full exerted at his several task,
stream And, hovering o'er the wild stupendous scene, Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of men; Beholds new seas beneath another sky.I
And half enliven'd by the distant sun, Throned in his palace of cerulean ice,
That rears and ripens man, as well as plants, Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court;
Here human nature wears its rudest form. And through the airy hall the loud misrule Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves, Of driving tempest is for ever heard;
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer, Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath; They waste the tedious gloom. Immersed in furs, Here arms his winds with all subduing frost; Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest nor song, Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his Nor tenderness they know; nor aught of life, snows,
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without, With which he now oppresses half the globe. Till morn at length, her roses drooping all,
Thence winding eastward to the Tartar's coast, Shed a long twilight brightening o'er their fields, She sweeps the howling margin of the main; And calls the quiver'd savage to the chase. Where undissolving, from the first of time, What can not active government perform, Snows swell on snows, amazing to the sky; New-moulding man? Wide-stretching from these And icy mountains high on mountains piled, shores, Seem to the shivering sailor from afar,
A people savage from remotest time, Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds. A huge neglected empire, one vast mind, Projected huge, and horrid o'er the surge, By Heaven inspired, from gothic darkness callid. Alps frown on Alps; or rushing hideous down, Immortal Peter! first of monarchs! he As if old Chaos was again return'd,
His stubborn country tamed, her rocks, her fens, Wide-rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons; Ocean itself no longer can resist
And while the fierce barbarian he subdued, The binding fury: but, in all its rage
To more exalted soul he raised the man. Of tempest taken by the boundless frost, Ye shades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, Through long successive ages to build up
A labouring plan of state, behold at once * M. de Maupertius, in his book on the Figure of the Earth, The wonder done! behold the matchless prince! after having described the beautiful lake and mountain of Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then Niemi, in Lapland, says “From this height we had opportu. A mighty shadow of unreal power ; nity several times to see those vapours rise from the lake, Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts; which the people of the country call Halties, and which they And roaming every land, in every port deem to be the guardian epirits of the mountains. We had been frighted with stories of bears that haunted this place, but His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand saw none. It seemed rather a place of resort for fairies and Unwearied plying the mechanic tool, genii, than bears,"
Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts, 1 The same author observed, "I was surprised to see upon the banks of this river (the Tenglio) roses of as lively a red as any that are in our gardens.
* Sir Hugh Willoughby, sent by Queen Elizabeth to dis 1 The other hemisphere.
covor the north-cast passage.
Of civil wisdom, and of material skill.
See here thy pictured life; pass some few years, Charged with the stores of Europe home he goes! Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent Then cities rise amid the illumined waste;
strength, O’er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign; Thy sober Autumn fading into age, Far distant flood to flood is social join'd; And pale concluding Winter comes at last, The astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar; And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes With daring keel before; and armies stretch Of happiness? those longings after fame? Each way their dazzling files, repressing here Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? The frantic Alexander of the north,
Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons. thoughts, Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice, Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life? Of old dishonour proud: it glows around, Al now are vanish’d! Virtue sole survives, Taught by the Royal Hand that roused the whole, Immortal never-failing friend of man, One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade: His guide to happiness on high. And see ! For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforced, 'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth More potent still, his great example show'd. Of heaven and earth! awakening Nature hears
Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, The new creating word, and starts to life, Blow hollow blustering from the south. Subdued, In every heighten'd form, from pain and death The frost resolves into a trickling thaw, For ever free. The great eternal scheme, Spotted the mountains shine; loose sleet decends, Involving all, and in a perfect whole And floods the country round. The rivers swell, Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, To reason's eye refined clear up apace. O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, Ye vainly wise! ye blind presumptuous! now, A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once;
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power And, where they rush, the wide resounding plajn And Wisdom oft arraign'd: see now the cause, Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas, Why unassuming worth in secret lived, That wash'd the ungenial pole, will rest no more
And died, neglected: why the good man's share Beneath the shackles of the mighty north; In life was gaul and bittemess of soul: But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave: Why the lone widow and her orphans pined And hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs In starving solitude ; while luxury, Athwart the rifted deep: at once it bursts, In palaces, lay straining her low though And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds. To form unreal wants: why heaven-born truth, III fares the bark with trembling wretches charged, And moderation fairn wore the red marks That, toss'd amid the floating fragments, moors Of superstition's scourge: why licensed pain, Beneath the shelter of an icy isle,
That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks Embitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distress'd! More horrible. Can human force endure Ye noble few! who here unbending stand The assembled mischiefs that besiege them round? Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,
And what your bounded view, which only saw The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice, A little part, deem'd evil is no more: Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage,
The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. And one unbounded Spring encircle all. More to embroil the deep, leviathan And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, Tempest the loosen'd brine, while through the
HYMN. gloom, Far from the bleak inhospitable shore, These, as they change, Almighty Father, these Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl Are but the varied God. The rolling year Of famish'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring Yet Providence, that ever waking eye, Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. Looks down with pity on the feeble toil Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm: Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe, Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. And every sense and every heart is joy. "Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd Year. With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
Shoots full perfection through the rolling year: . How dumb the tuneful! horror wide extends And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks: His desolate domain. Behold, fond man! And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales | Great source of day!" best image here below
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine, Ye valleys raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
praise. Man marks not Thee, markš not the mighty hand Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres; At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence Crown the great hymn; in swarming cities vast, The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring: Assembled men, to the deep organ join Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear, Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth; At solemn pauses, through the swelling base; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, And, as each mingling flame increases each, With transport touches all the springs of life. In one united ardour rise to heaven.
Nature attend! Join, every living soul, Or if you rather choose the rural shade, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, And find a fane in every sacred grove; In adoration join; and, ardent, raise
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll! breathes:
For me, when I forget the darling theme, Oh, talk of Him in solitary glooms!
Whether the blossom blows, the summer-ray Where, o'er the rock the scarcely waving pine Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams; Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. Or Winter rises in the blackening east; And ye, whose bolder noté is heard afar, Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, Who shake the astonish'd world, lift high to heaven And; dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; Should fate command me to the farthest verge And let me catch it as I muse along.
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Ye softer floods, that lead the human maze Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me: A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Since God is ever present, ever felt, Sound His stupendous praise; whose greater voice In the void waste as in the city full; Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. And where He vital breathes there must be joy. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, When even at last the solemn hour shall come, In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, paints,
Will rising wonders sing: I can not go Ye forests bend, ye harvests, wave, to Him; Where Universal Love not smiles around, Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their sons; As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. From seeming Evil still educing Good, Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep And better thence again, and better still, Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, In infinite progression. But I lose Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Myself in Him, in Light ineffable! Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise.
SPECIMEN OF THE ALTERATIONS That Dark Perplexity, that Mystic maze, Made by Thomson in the early editions of the
Which Sight cou'd never trace, nor Heart conccive, Seasons.
To Reason's Eye, refin'd, clears up apace.
Angels, and Men, astonish'd pause--and dread Tis done!-dread Winter has subdu'd the Year, To travel thro' the Depths of Providence, And reigns, tremendous, o'er the desart plains ! Untry'd, unbounded. Ye vain learned! see, How dead the Vegetable Kingdom lies! And, prostrate in the Dust, adore that Power, How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends And Goodness, oft arraign'd. See now the cause, His solitary empire—now, fond Man!
Why conscious worth, oppress'd, in secret, long, Behold thy pictur'd life: Pass some few Years, Mourn'd, unregarded : why the good Man's share Thy flowering Spring, thy short-liv'd Summer's In Life, was Gall, and Bitterness of Soul: strength,
Why the lone Widow, and her Orphans, pin'd, Thy sober Autumn, fading into age,
In starving Solitude; while Luxury, And pale, concluding Winter shuts thy scene,
In Palaces, lay prompting her low thought And shrouds Thee in the Grave. Where now are To form unreal Wants: Why Heaven-born Faith, fled
And Charity, prime Grace, wore the red marks Those Dreams of Greatness ? those unsolid Hopes Of Persecution's Scourge: Why licens'd Pain Of Happiness ? those longings after Fame? That cruel Spoiler, that embosom'd Foe, Those restless Cares? those busy, bustling Days ? Imbitter'd all our Bliss. Ye Good Distrest! Those Nights of secret guilt? those veering Ye noble Few! that here, unbending, stand thoughts,
Beneath Life's Pressures-yet a little while, Fluttering 'twixt Good, and Ill, that shar’dthy Life? And all your woes are past. Time swiftly fleets, All, now, are vanish'd! Virtue, sole, survives And wish'd Eternity, approaching, brings Immortal, Mankind's never-fuiling Friend, Life undecaying, Love without Allay, His Guide to Happiness on high-and see! Pure flowing Joy, and Happiness sincere. *Tis come, the Glorious Morn! the second Birth Of Heaven and Earth !—awakening Nature hears The concluding lines of Winter, taken from the Th’ Almighty Trumpet's Voice, and starts to Life, 2nd Edit. 1726,—those words printed in italic show Renew'd, unfading. Now, th' Eternal Scheme, Thow much has been altered by the author.
The Castle of kndolence.
[This poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the liness which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect. And the style of that admirable poct, as well as the measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to all allegorical Poems writ in our language; just as in French, the style of Marol, who lived under Francis the First, has been used in tales, and familiar epistles, by the politest writers of the age of Louis the Fourteenth.)
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
Half prankt with spring, with summer half imO MORTAL man, who livest here by toil,
brown'd, Do not complain of this thy hard estate; A listless climate made, where sooth to say, That like an emmet thou must ever moil, No living wight could work, ne cared even for play. Is a sad sentence of an ancient date; And, certes, there is for it reason great ; For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and Was nought around but images of rest; wail,
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between, And curse thy star, and early drudge and late; And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest,
Withouten that would come a heavier bale, From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.