The text is taken from the first edition of 1726.
Winter, a Poem |
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| 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, | ||
| 5 | 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, | ||
| 10 | 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: | ||
| Or seen the deep, fermenting, Tempest brew’d, | ||
| In the red, evening, Sky. — Thus pass’d the Time, | ||
| 15 | 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; | ||
| 20 | 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; | ||
| 25 | 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 | ||
| 30 | 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, | ||
| 35 | To steal themselves from the degenerate Croud, | |
| And soar above this little Scene of Things: | ||
| To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their Feet: | ||
| To lay their Passions in a gentle Calm, | ||
| And woo lone Quiet, in her silent Walks. | ||
| 40 | 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, | ||
| 45 | 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. | ||
| 50 | 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, | ||
| 55 | 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 | ||
| 60 | 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. | ||
| The Year, yet pleasing, but declining fast, | ||
| 65 | 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: | ||
| 70 | 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; | ||
| 75 | 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. | ||
| 80 | 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, | ||
| 85 | Cluster the rolling Fogs, and swim along | |
| The dusky-mantled Lawn: then slow descend, | ||
| Once more to mingle with their Watry Friends. | ||
| The vivid Stars shine out, in radiant Files; | ||
| And boundless Ether glows, till the fair Moon | ||
| 90 | 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; | ||
| 95 | 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 | ||
| 100 | 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, | ||
| 105 | 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 | ||
| 110 | As wide as Nature works, disdains to sing, | |
| Returning to her nobler Theme in view — | ||
| For, see! where Winter comes, himself, confest, | ||
| Striding the gloomy Blast. First Rains obscure | ||
| Drive thro’ the mingling Skies, with Tempest foul; | ||
| 115 | 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, | ||
| 120 | 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; | ||
| 125 | 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, | ||
| 130 | 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 | ||
| 135 | 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, | ||
| Betwixt two meeting Hills, it bursts a Way, | ||
| 140 | 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, | ||
| 145 | 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. | ||
| 150 | 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? | ||
| 155 | 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 | ||
| 160 | Wears a bleak Circle round her sully’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, | ||
| 165 | With dreadful Rift: 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, | ||
| 170 | 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: | ||
| 175 | 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. | ||
| 180 | 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, | ||
| 185 | 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! | ||
| 190 | Wild Uproar lords it wide: the Clouds commixt, | |
| 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. | ||
| 195 | 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; | ||
| 200 | 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? | ||
| 205 | 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. | ||
| 210 | 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, | ||
| 215 | Sacred, substantial, never-fading Bliss! | |
| 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; | ||
| 220 | 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, | ||
| 225 | 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 | ||
| 230 | 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, | ||
| 235 | 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, | ||
| 240 | 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 | ||
| With Food, at will: lodge them below the Blast, | ||
| 245 | 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, | ||
| 250 | 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 | ||
| 255 | 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, | ||
| 260 | 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’inspiring Thought — I throw aside | ||
| The long-liv’d Volume, and, deep-musing, hail | ||
| 265 | 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, | ||
| 270 | Severely good, and him of rugged Rome, | |
| 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, | ||
| 275 | 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 | ||
| 280 | 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? | ||
| 285 | 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! | ||
| 290 | 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, | ||
| 295 | 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, | ||
| Save Lycidas, the Friend, with Sense refin’d, | ||
| Learning digested well, exalted Faith, | ||
| 300 | Unstudy’d Wit, and Humour ever gay. | |
| Clear Frost succeeds, and thro’ the blew Serene, | ||
| For Sight too fine, th’Ætherial Nitre flies, | ||
| To bake the Glebe, and bind the slip’ry Flood. | ||
| This of the wintry Season is the Prime; | ||
| 305 | 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, | ||
| 310 | 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, | ||
| 315 | 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, | ||
| 320 | 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. | ||
| 325 | 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, | ||
| 330 | 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 | ||
| 335 | 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; | ||
| 340 | 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, | ||
| 345 | 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, | ||
| 350 | And his unweildy Train, in horrid Sport, | |
| Tempest the loosen’d Brine; while, thro’ the Gloom, | ||
| Far, from the dire, unhospitable Shore, | ||
| The Lyon’s Rage, the Wolf’s sad Howl is heard, | ||
| And all the fell Society of Night. | ||
| 355 | 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, | ||
| 360 | 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, | ||
| 365 | Thy flow’ring Spring, thy short-liv’d Summer’s Strength, | |
| Thy sober Autumn, fading into Age, | ||
| And pale, concluding, Winter shuts thy Scene, | ||
| And shrouds Thee in the Grave — where now, are fled | ||
| Those Dreams of Greatness? those unsolid Hopes | ||
| 370 | 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, | ||
| 375 | 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, | ||
| 380 | 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 | ||
| 385 | 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 | ||
| 390 | 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, | ||
| 395 | 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! | ||
| 400 | 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, | ||
| 405 | Pure flowing Joy, and Happiness sincere. | |
The End. |