Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lowerd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Shakespeare.Richard III., Act I. Scene 1. (Gloster on his own deformities.)
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in. Cowper.The Task, Book IV. Line 36.