ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS,
EE, WINTER comes, to rule th' varied
Sullen and fad, with all his rifing train;
Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be these my theme,
Thefe! that exalt the foul to folemn thought,
And heav'nly mufing. Welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot,
Pleas'd have I, in my cheerful morn of life,
When nurs'd by carelefs folitude I liv'd,
And fung of Nature with unceafing joy,
Pleas'd have I wander'd thro' your rough domain; 10
Trode the pure virgin-fnows, myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst;
Or feen the deep fermenting tempest brew'd,
In the grim evening fky. Thus pass'd the time,
Till thro' the lucid chambers of the fouth
Look'd out the joyous SPRING, look'd out, and fmil'd.
To thee, the patron of her firft effay,
The Muse, O WILMINGTON ! renews her fong.
Since has fhe rounded the revolving year :
Skim'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne,
Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rife;
Then swept o'er Autumn with the fhadowy gale;
And now among the wintry clouds again,
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to foar;
To fwell her note with all the rufhing winds;
To fuit her founding cadence to the floods;
As is her theme, her numbers wildly great :
Thrice happy! could fhe fill thy judging ear
With bold defcription, and with manly thought.
Nor art thou skill'd in awful schemes alone,
And how to make a mighty people thrive :
But equal goodness, found integrity,
A firm unfhaken uncorrupted foul
Amid a fliding age, and burning strong,
Not vainly blazing for thy country's weal,
A fteady spirit regularly free;
Thefe, each exalting each, the statesman light
Into the patriot; thefe, the public hope
And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse
Record what envy dares not flatt'ry call.
Now when the cheerlefs empire of the sky
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields,
And fierce Aquarius, ftains th' inverted year
Hung o'er the fartheft verge of heav'n, the fun
Scarce fpreads thro' ether the dejected day.
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines,
Thro' the thick air; as cloth'd in cloudy storm,
Weak, wan, and broad, he fkirts the fouthern sky;
And, foon-defcending, to the long dark night,
Wide-fhading all, the proftrate world refigns.
Nor is the night unwifh'd; while vital heat,,
Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forfake.
Mean-time, in fable cincture, fhadows vaft,
Deep-ting'd and damp, and congregated clouds,
And all the vap'ry turbulence of heav'n,
Involve the face of things. Thus Winter falls,
A heavy gloom oppreffive o'er the world,
Thro' Nature fhedding influence malign,
And roufes up the feeds of dark disease.
The foul of Man dies in him, loathing life,
And black with more than melancholy views.
The cattle droop; and o'er the furrow'd land,
Fresh from the plough, the dun discolour'd flocks,
Untended spreading, crop the wholesome root.
Along the woods, along the moorish fens,
Sighs the fad Genius of the coming ftorm;
And up among the loofe disjointed cliffs,
And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook
And cave, prefageful, send a hollow moan,
Refounding long in lift'ning Fancy's ear.
THEN Comes the father of the tempeft forth, Wrapt in black glooms. Firft joylefs rains obfcure Drive thro' the mingling skies with vapour foul; Dash on the mountain's brow, and fhake the woods, That grumbling wave below. Th' unfightly plain 76 Lies a brown deluge; as the low-bent clouds Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted still Combine, and deep'ning into night fhut up The day's fair face. The wanderers of heav'n, Each to his home, retire; fave those that love
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