What of its tarnish'd honours yet remain;

Dafh'd down, and scattered, by the tearing wind's
Affiduous fury, its gigantic limbs.

Thus ftruggling thro the diffipated grove,

185

The whirling tempeft raves along the plain;
And on the cottage thatch'd, or lordly roof,
Keen-fastening, shakes them to the solid base.
Sleep frighted flies; and round the rocking dome,
For entrance eager, howls the favage blast.

190

Then too, they say, thro' all the burthen'd air,
Long groans are heard, fhrill founds, and distant fighs,
That, uttered by the Demon of the night,

Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death.

HUGE uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix'd With stars swift gliding sweep along the sky. All Nature reels. Till Nature's KING, who oft

196

Amid tempeftuous darkness dwells alone,

And on the wings of the careering wind

Walks dreadfully ferene, commands a calm;

200

Then ftraight air, fea and earth, are hufh'd at once.

As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, Slow-meeting, mingle into folid gloom.

Now, while the drowsy world lies loft in fleep,
Let me affociate with the serious Night,
And Contemplation her fedate compeer;
Let me fhake off th' intrufive cares of day,
And lay the meddling fenfes all afide.

WHERE now, ye lying vanities of life!
Ye ever-tempting ever-cheating train!

Where are you now? and what is your amount?
Vexation, difappointment, and remorse.
Sad, fickening thought! and yet deluded Man,
A scene of crude disjointed vifions past,

And broken flumbers, rifes ftill resolv'd,

With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round.

205

210

215

FATHER of light and life, thou GOOD SUPREME ! O teach me what is good! teach me THYSELF! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,

.

From every low pursuit! and feed my foul

220

With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; Sacred, fubftantial, never-fading blifs!

THE keener tempefts rife and fuming dun

From all the livid eaft, or piercing north,

Thick clouds afcend; in whofe capacious womb 225 A vapoury deluge lies, to fnow congeal'd.

230

Heavy they roll their fleecy world along;
And the sky faddens with the gathered ftorm.
Thro' the hufh'd air the whitening fhower defcends,
At first thin wavering; 'till at laft the flakes
Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day,
With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields
Put on their winter-robe of pureft white.
'Tis brightness all; fave where the new fnow melts
Along the mazy current. Low, the woods
235
Bow their hoar head; and, ere the danguid fun
Faint from the weft emits his evening ray,
Earth's univerfal face, deep hid, and chill,

Is one wild dazzling wafte, that buries wide
The works of Man. Drooping, the labourer-ox 240
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

Which PROVIDENCE affigns them. One alone, 245
The red-breast, facred to the houfhold gods,
Wifely regardful of th' embroiling sky,
In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves

His shivering mates, and pays to trusted Man
His annual vifit. Half-afraid, he first

Against the window beats; then, brifk, alights

250

On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the fmiling family afkance,

And pecks, and ftarts, and wonders where he is: 'Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs

255

Attract his flender feet. The foodlefs wilds

Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare,
Tho' timorous of heart, and hard beset

260

By death in various forms, dark fnares, and dogs,
And more unpitying Men, the garden feeks,
Urg'd on by fearless want. The bleating kind
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth,
With looks of dumb defpair; then, fad-difpers'd,
Dig for the withered herb thro' heaps of fnow.

Now, fhepherds, to your helplefs charge be kind, Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens

266

With food at will; lodge them below the storm,

And watch them ftrict: for from the bellowing eaft,
In this diré feafon, oft the whirlwind's wing
Sweeps up the burthen of whole wintry plains
At one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks,

270

Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills,
The billowy tempeft whelms; 'till, upward urg'd,
The valley to a shining mountain fwells,

Tipt with a wreath high-curling in the sky.

As thus the fnows arife; and foul, and fierce,
All Winter drives along the darkened air
In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain
Difafter'd ftands; fees other hills afcend,
Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes,
Of horrid profpect, fhag the trackless plain:
Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid
Beneath the formless wild; but wanders on
From hill to dale, ftill more and more aftray;
Impatient flouncing thro' the drifted heaps,

275

280

285

Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home
Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth
In many a vain attempt. How finks his foul!
What black despair, what horror fills his heart!
When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign'd
His tufted cottage rifing thro' the snow,
He meets the roughness of the middle waste,
Far from the track, and bleft abode of Man;
While round him night resistless closes faft,

290