Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/211

 And more unpitying Men, the garden seeks, Urg'd on by fearless want. The bleating kind Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, With looks of dumb despair: then, sad-dispers'd, Dig for the wither'd herb thro' heaps of snow.

, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind, Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens With food at will; lodge them below the storm, And watch them strict: for from the bellowing east, In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing Sweeps up the burthen of whole wintry plains In one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks, Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills, The billowy tempest whelms; 'till, upward urg'd, The valley to a shining mountain swells, Tipt with a wreath, high-curling in the sky.

thus the snows arise; and foul, and fierce, All Winter drives along the darkened air; In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend, Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes, Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain: Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid Beneath the formless wild; but wanders on From hill to dale, still more and more astray: Impatient flouncing thro' the drifted heaps, Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth In many a vain attempt. How sinks his soul! What black despair, what horror fills his heart! When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign'd His tufted cottage rising thro' the snow, He meets the roughness of the middle waste, Far from the track, and blest abode of Man: While