Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/206

 Recounts his simple frolic: much he talks, And much he laughs, nor recks the storm that blows Without, and rattles on his humble roof.

o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd. And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread, At last the rous'd-up river pours along: Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes, From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild, Tumbling thro' rocks abrupt, and sounding far; Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads, Calm, sluggish, silent; till again, constrain'd, Between two meeting hills, it bursts a way, Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream; There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep, It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders thro'.

! great parent! whose unceasing hand Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year, How mighty, how majestic, are thy works! With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul! That sees astonish'd! and astonish'd sings! Ye too, ye winds! that now begin to blow, With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you. Where are your stores, ye powerful beings! say, Where your aërial magazines reserv'd, To swell the brooding terrors of the storm? In what far-distant region of the sky, Hush'd in dead silence, sleep you when 'tis calm?

from the pallid sky the sun descends, With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red fiery streaks Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds Stagger with dizzy poise, as doubting yet Which master to obey: while rising slow, Blank,