on winter
Now gloomy winter shews his hoary head,
And nature’s face is with confusion spread;
Stern Boreas rambles forth with blust’ring sweep,
T’ explore the continent, and storm the deep:
A while he ranged with despotic sway,
Till vanquish’d by the genial lamp of day.
The forest now appears with rueful mien,
The groves display a like ungrateful scene:
No chearful verdure beautifies the field,
Nor can the vales their wonted odours yield:
The open lawns, with each dilated plain,
No semblance of their former bloom retain.
Now humid vapours, fogs and mists arise,
Which choak the air, and shade th’ envelopt skies;
Impetuous rains in fable streams descend,
And various meteors in the aether blend:
The rapid floods, which from the mountains pour,
With voice like thunder thro’ the vallies roar:
Whilst echo does the noisy din provoke,
And joins the discord from each vocal rock.
The silver ponds now shine in glittering mail,
And frozen clouds discharge the pattering hail;
A coverlead of fleecy snow o’erspread
The towering hills, and cloathes the naked meads.
No warblers now chant forth their sprightly strains,
Nor with soft notes divert the list’ning swains;
No pleasing object entertains the fight;
Nor rural walks nor sylvan shades invite:
No more we trace the mazes of the grove,
Tho’ once our calm retreat, and seat of love;
But now, with brisk wood fire and nut brown ale;
In friendly social mirth, ourselves regale.
New-Hampshire Gazette, Portsmouth NH; 12-24-1756, Issue 12, Page 3
