| |
| HUMANITY, delighting to behold | |
| A fond reflection of her own decay, | |
| Hath painted Winter like a traveller old, | |
| Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day, | |
| In hooded mantle, limping o’er the plain, | 5 |
| As though his weakness were disturbed by pain; | |
| Or, if a juster fancy should allow | |
| An undisputed symbol of command, | |
| The chosen sceptre is a withered bough, | |
| Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. | 10 |
| These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn; | |
| But mighty Winter the device shall scorn. | |
| |
| For he it was,—dread Winter! who beset, | |
| Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net, | |
| That host, when from the regions of the Pole | 15 |
| They shrunk, insane ambition’s barren goal,— | |
| That host, as huge and strong as e’er defied | |
| Their God, and placed their trust in human pride! | |
| As fathers persecute rebellious sons, | |
| He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; | 20 |
| He called on Frost’s inexorable tooth, | |
| Life to consume in manhood’s firmest hold; | |
| Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs; | |
| For why,—unless for liberty enrolled | |
| And sacred home,—ah! why should hoary age be bold? | 25 |
| |
| Fleet the Tartar’s reinless steed, | |
| But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind, | |
| Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed, | |
| And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind, | |
| And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride, | 30 |
| And to the battle ride. | |
| No pitying voice commands a halt, | |
| No courage can repel the dire assault; | |
| Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and blind, | |
| Whole legions sink, and in one instant find | 35 |
| Burial and death: look for them, and descry, | |
| When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky, | |
| A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy! | |
| |
