Hard by thefe fhores, the last of mankind live;
And, fcarce enliven'd by the diftant fun,
(That rears and ripens man, as well as plants)
Here Human Nature just begins to dawn.
Deep form the piercing season funk in caves,
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous chear,
They wear the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs,
Lie the gross race. Nor fprightly jeft, nor fong,
Nor tenderness they know; nor ought of life,
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without.
Till long-expected morning looks at length
Faint on their fields (Where Winter reigns alone)
And calls the quiver'd favage to the chace.

Muttering, the winds at eve, with hoarfer voice Blow bluftering from the fouth. The froft fubdu'd, Gradual, refòlves into a trickling thaw.

Spotted the mountains fhine; loofe fleet defcends;

695

700

705

And floods the country round. The rivers fwell, 7910
Impatient for the day. Broke from the hills,

O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts
A thouand fnow-fed torrents fhoot at once;
And, where they rufh, the wide-refounding plain

Is left one flimy wafte. Thofe fullen feas,
That wash th' ungenial pole, will reft no more
Beneath the shackles of the mighty north;
But, roufing all their waves, refiftless heave-
And bark! the lengthening roar continuous runs
Athwart the rifted main: at once it bursts,

And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds.

Ill fares the bark, the wretch's laft resort,

That, loft amid the floating fragments, moors
Beneath the shelter of an icy ifle,

715

720

While night o'erwhelms the fea, and horror looks 725

More horrible. Can human force endure

Th'affembled mischiefs that besiege them round:

Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,

The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice,

Now ceafing, now renew'd with louder rage,

And in dire echoes bellowing round the main.
More to embroil the deep, Leviathan,

And his unweildy train, in horrid íport,

730

Tempeft the loofen'd brine; while thro' the gloom,

Far, from the bleak inhofpitable fhore,

735

Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl

Of famish'd monfters, there awaiting wrecks.

Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye,

Locks down with pity on the fruitless toil
Of mortals loft to hope, and lights them fafe,
Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of fate.

140

'Tis done! dread Winter has fubdu'd the year,

And reigns tremendous o'er the defart plains.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

740

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends

745

His folitary empire. Here, fond man!

Behold thy pictur'd life; pafs fome few years,

Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent ftrength,
Thy fober Autumn fading into age,

And pale concluding Winter comes at laft,

750

And fhuts the fcene. Ah! whither now are fled,

Thofe dreams of greatnefs? thofe unfolid hopes

Of happiness thofe longings after fame?

Those restless cares? thofe bufy bustling days?

754

Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering thoughts

Loft between good and ill, that fhar'd thy life?

All now are vanifh'd! Virtue fole furvives,
Immortal, mankind's never-failing friend,

His guide to happiness on high. And fee!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the fecond birth
Of heaven, and earth! Awakening nature hears
The new-creating word, and starts to life,

In every heighten'd form, from pain and death

For ever free. The great eternal scheme,

Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting, as the profpect wider fpreads,

To reafon's eye refin'd clears up apace.
Ye vainly wife! ye blind prefuming! now,
Confounded in the duft, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraign'd: fee now the caufe,
Why unaffuming Worth in fecret liv'd,

And dy'd, neglected: why the good man's fhare
In life was gall, and bitterness of soul:

Why the lone widow, and her orphans pin'd,
In ftarving folitude; while Luxury,

In palaces, lay prompting his low thought,

To form unreal wants: why heaven-born Truth,
And Moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of Superftition's fcourge: why licens'd Pain,
That cruel fpoiler, that embofom'd foe,
Imbitter'd all our blifs. Ye good diftreft!

Ye noble few! who here unbending stand

765

770

775

786

Thy Beauty walks, thy Tenderness and Love.

Wide-flush the fields; the foftening air is balm;

Echo the mountains round the forefts live;