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ODE TO WINTER.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

WHEN first the fiery-mantled Sun
His heavenly race began to run,
Round the earth and ocean blue,
His children four, the Seasons, flew:
First in green apparel dancing,

Smiled the Spring with angel face;
Rosy Summer next advancing,

Rushed into her sire's embrace-
Her bright-haired sire, who bade her keep
For ever nearest to his smiles-
On Calpe's olive-shaded steep,

Or India's citron-covered isles.
More remote and buxom brown

The

queen of vintage bowed before his throne: A rich pomegranate gemmed her crown,

A ripe sheaf bound her zone.

But howling Winter fled afar

To hills that prop the polar star,
And loves on deer-borne car to ride,
With barren Darkness by his side,

Round the shore where loud Lo foden
Whirls to death the roaring whale,
Round the pole where Runic Odin
Howls his war-song to the gale:
Save when down the ravaged globe
He travels on his native storm,
Deflowering Nature's grassy robe,
And trampling on her faded form;
Till light's returning lord assume

The shaft that drives him to the northern field,

Of power to pierce his raven plume,
And crystal-covered shield.

O, sire of storms! whose savage ear
The Lapland drum delights to hear,
When Phrenzy, with her blood-shot eye,
Implores thy dreadful deity-
Archangel power of desolation,

Fast descending as thou art,
Say, hath mortal invocation

Spells to touch thy stony heart? Then sullen Winter, hear my prayer, And gently rule the ruined year; Nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare, Nor freeze the wretch's falling tear;

To shivering Want's unmantled bed,

Thy horror breathing agues cease to lend And mildly on the orphan head

Of Innocence descend!

But chiefly spare, O King of Clouds,

The sailor on his airy shrouds

When wrecks and beacons strew the steep,

And spectres walk along the deep;

Milder yet thy snowy breezes
Breathe on yonder tented shores,
Where the Rhine's bright billow freezes,
Where the dark-brown Danube roars!
O, winds of Winter! list
ye there
To many a deep and dying groan?
Or start ye, dæmons of the midnight air,
At shrieks and thunders louder than
Alas! e'en your unḥallowed breath
May spare the victim fallen low:
But man will ask no truce to death-
No bound to human woe!

your own?

MARTIAL EPIGRAM 35. Book viii.

TRANSLATED.

PAIR'D in wedlock, pair'd in life;
Husband suited to thy wife:

Worthless thou, and worthless she;

Strange it is ye can't agree!

TO THE MYRTLE.

UNFADING branch of verdant hue,
In modest sweetness dress'd,
Shake off thy pearly tears of dew,
And decorate my breast.

Dear emblem of the constant mind,
Truth's consecrated tree,

Stiil shall thy trembling blossoms find
A faithful friend in me.

Nor chilling breeze, nor drizzling rain,
Thy glossy leaves can spoil,

Their sober beauties fresh remain
In every varying soil.

If e'er this aching heart of mine
A wandering thought should prove,
O let thy branches round it twine,
And bind it fast to Love.

For ah! the little fluttering thing
Amidst life's tempest rude,
Has felt Affliction's sharpest sting,
Yet triumphs unsubdued.

Like thee it braves the wintery wind,
And mocks the storm's fierce power,
Tho' from its hopes the blast unkind
Has torn each promis'd flower.

Tho' round its fibres, barbarous Fate
Has twin'd an icy spell,

Still in its central fires elate,

The purest passions dwell.

MRS. ROBINSON.

TO HENRY.

AH! tell me not, that jealous fear
Betrays a weak, suspicious mind,
Were I less true, and thou less dear,
I should be blest, and thou be kind.

But while by giddy Fancy led,

In search of joy you wildly rove,
Say, can my mind be free from dread,
When every sense is chain'd by love?

Yet soon my anxious fears shall cease,
Since I am doom'd from thee to part,
That day will give me lasting peace,
For oh! that day will break my heart.

EMMA.

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