O DE

For the WINTER SOLSTICE,,

N

DEC. 11, 1740 *.

I.

OW to the utmost fouthern goal"
The Sun has trac'd his annual way,
And backward now prepares to roll,
And blefs the North with earlier day.
Prone on Potofi's lofty brow,
Floods of fublimer fplendor flow,
Ripening the latent feeds of gold,
Whilft, panting in the lonely fhade,
The afflicted Indian hides his head,
Nor dares the blaze of noon behold..

II.

But lo! on this deserted coaft,
How faint the light! how chill the air!

Lo! arm'd with whirlwind, hail, and froft,
Fierce winter defolates the year.

The fields refign their cheerful bloom;

No more the breezes breathe perfume;

No

*This ode was afterwards entirely altered'; as may be feen in this volume, p. 191.---The reader will not be displeased to see it as it was originally written.

N.

No more the warbling waters roll:
Defarts of fnow fatigue the eye;
Succeffive tempests bloat the sky,
And gloomy damps oppress the foul.

III..

But let my drooping genius rife, And hail the fun's remotest ray : Now, now he climbs the northern fkies, To-morrow nearer than to-day. Then, louder howl the stormy waste, Be fand and ocean worfe defac'd, Yet brighter hours are on the wing, And fancy, through the wintery gloom,. Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom,, Already hails the emerging Spring.

IV.

O fountain of the golden day,. Could mortal vows but urge thy speed, How foon, before the vernal ray, Should each unkindly damp recede ! How foon each tempeft hovering fly, That now, fermenting, loads the sky, Prompt on our heads to burst amain, To rend the foreft from the steep, And, thundering o'er the Baltic deep, To 'whelm the merchant's hopes of gain!

V.

But let not man's imperfect views, Prefume to tax wife Nature's laws : 'Tis his with filent joy to use

The indulgence of the fovereign cause ;
Secure that from the whole of things
Beauty and good confummate springs,
Beyond what he can reach to know,
And that the Providence of heaven
Has fome peculiar bleffing given
To each allotted state below.

VI.

Ev'n now how sweet the wintery night
Spent with the old illustrious dead :
While, by the taper's trembling light,
I feem the awful course to tread;
Where chiefs and legislators lie,
Whofe triumphs move before my eye,
With every laurel fresh display'd:
While, charm'd, I rove in claffic song,
Or bend to Freedom's fearless tongue,
Or walk the academic shade.

CON