Such was the * BRITON's fate, 925
As with first prow, (what have not BRITONS dar'd!)
He for the paffage fought, attempted fince
So much in vain, and feeming to be fhut
By jealous Nature with eternal bars.
In these fell regions, in Arzina caught,
And to the ftony deep his idle fhip
Immediate feal'd, he with his hapless crew,
Each full exerted at his feveral tafk,
Froze into ftatues; to the cordage glued
The failor, and the pilot to the helm.
HARD by these fhores, where scarce his freezing ftream Rolls the wild Oby, live the laft of Men;
And half enlivened by the diftant fun,
That rears and ripens Man, as well as plants,
Here human Nature wears its rudest form.
Deep from the piercing season funk in caves,
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer,
They wafte the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs,
Doze the grofs race. Nor sprightly jeft, nor song,
Nor tenderness they know; nor aught of life,
* Sir HUGH WILLOUGHBY, fent by QUEEN ELIZABETH to dif
cover the North-Eaft Paffage.
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without.
Till morn at length, her roses drooping all,
Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields,
And calls the quivered favage to the chace.
WHAT cannot active government perform,
New-moulding Man? Wide-stretching from these fhores,
A people favage from remoteft time,
A huge neglected empire, ONE VAST Mind,
By HEAVEN infpir'd, from Gothic darkness call'd.
Immortal PETER! first of monarchs! He
His ftubborn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens,
Her floods, her feas, her ill-submitting sons ;
And while the fierce Barbarian he subdu'd,
To more exalted foul he rais'd the Man.
Ye fhades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd
Thro' long fucceffive ages to build up
A labouring plan of state, behold at once
The wonder done! behold the matchless prince!
Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then
A mighty fhadow of unreal power;
Who greatly spurn'd the flothful pomp of courts;
And roaming every land, in every port
His fceptre laid afide, with glorious hand
Unwearied plying the mechanic tool,
Gather'd the feeds of trade, of useful arts,
Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill.
Charg'd with the ftores of Europe home he goes!
Then cities rife amid the illumin'd wafte;
O'er joyless defarts smiles the rural reign;
Far-diftant flood to flood is focial join'd;
Th' aftonish'd Euxine hears the Baltick roar ;
Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd
With daring keel before; and armies ftretch
Each way their dazzling files, repreffing here
The frantic Alexander of the north,
And awing there ftern Othman's fhrinking fons,
Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice,
Of old difhonour proud: it glows around,
Taught by the ROYAL HAND that rous'd the whole,
One scene of arts, of arms, of rifing trade :
For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforc❜d,
More potent still, his great example shew'd.
MUTTERING, the winds at eve, with blunted point, Blow hollow-bluftering from the fouth. Subdu'd, The froft refolves into a trickling thaw.
Spotted the mountains fhine; loose fleet defcends,
And floods the country round. The rivers fwell,
Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills,
O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts,
A thousand fnow-fed torrents shoot at once;
And, where they rush, the wide-refounding plain
Is left one flimy wafte. Those fullen seas,
That wash'd th' ungenial pole, will reft no more
Beneath the fhackles of the mighty north;
But, roufing all their waves, refiftless heave.
And hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs
Athwart the rifted deep: at once it bursts,
And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds.
Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg'd,
That, toft amid the floating fragments, moors
Beneath the shelter of an icy ifle,
While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks
More horrible. Can human force endure
Th' affembled mischiefs that befiege them round?
Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,
The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice,
Now ceafing, now renew'd with louder rage,
And in dire echoes bellowing round the main.
More to embroil the deep, Leviathan
And his unweildy train, in dreadful sport,
Tempest the loofened brine, while thro' the gloom,
Far, from the bleak inhofpitable shore,
Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl
Of famifh'd monfters, there awaiting wrecks.
Yet PROVIDENCE, that ever-waking eye,
Looks down with pity on the feeble toil
Of mortals loft to hope, and lights them fafe,
Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of fate,
'Tis done! dread WINTER spreads his latest glooms,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 1025
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His defolate domain, Behold, fond Man!
See here thy pictur'd life; pafs fome few years,
Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent ftrength,
Thy fober Autumn fading into age,
And pale concluding Winter comes at last,
And fhuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Those dreams of greatness? thofe unfolid hopes:
Of happiness? thofe longings after fame ?
Those restless cares? thofe bufy bustling days?
Those gay-spent, festive nights? thofe veering thoughts
Loft between good and ill, that fhar'd thy life?
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