Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/210

 Thick clouds ascend; in whose capacious womb A vapoury deluge lies, to snow congeal'd. Heavy they roll their fleecy world along; And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. Thro' the hush'd air the whitening shower descends, At first thin-wavering; 'till at last the flakes Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day, With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields Put on their winter-robe, of pureestpurest [sic] white. 'Tis brightness all; save where the new snow melts, Along the mazy current. Low, the woods Bow their hoar head; and, ere the languid sun Faint from the west emits his evening-ray, Earth's universal face, deep-hid, and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of Man. Drooping, the labourer-ox Stands cover'd o'er with snow, and then demands The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, Tam'd by the cruel season, croud around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which assigns them. One alone, The red-breast, sacred to the houshold gods, Wisely regardful of th' embroiling sky, In joyless fields, and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted Man His annual visit. Half-afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is: Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet. The foodless wilds Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, Tho' timorous of heart, and hard beset By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, And