Worfe than the feafon defolate the fields,
And, adding to the ruins of the year,
Diftrefs the footed or the feathered game.
But what is this? Our infant Winter finks,
Divefted of his grandeur, fhould our eye
Aftonish'd fhoot into the Frigid zone,
Where, for relentless months, continual Night
Holds o'er the glittering waste her starry reign.
There, thro' the prifon of unbounded wilds,
Barr'd by the hand of Nature from escape,
Wide roams the Ruffian exile. Nought around
Strikes his fad eye, but deferts loft in fnow,
And heavy-loaded groves, and folid floods,
That ftretch, athwart the folitary vast,
Their icy horrors to the frozen main,
And cheerless towns far-diftant, never blefs'd,
Save when its annual courfe the caravan
Bends to the golden coaft of rich Cathay*,
With news of human-kind: yet there life glows;
Yet, cherish'd there, beneath the fhining wafte, 810
The furry nations harbour: tipt with jet
Fair ermines, fpotlefs as the fnows they prefs,
Sables of gloffy black; and dark-embrown'd,
Or beauteous freakt with many a mingled hue,
Thousands befides, the coftly pride of courts. 815
There, warm together prefs'd, the trooping deer
Sleep on the new-fall'n fnows; and, fcarce his head
* The old name for China.
Rais'd o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk
Lies flumb'ring, fullen, in the white abyss.
The ruthlefs hunter wants nor dogs nor toils,
Nor with the dread of founding bows he drives
The fearful flying race; with ponderous clubs,
As weak againft the mountain-heaps they pufh
Their beating breaft in vain, and piteous bray,
He lays them quivering on th' enfanguin'd fnows, 825
And with loud fhouts rejoicing bears them home.
There thro' the piny foreft half-abforpt,
Rough tenant of thefe fhades, the fhapelefs bear,
With dangling ice all horrid, ftalks forlorn;
Slow-pac'd, and fourer as the forms increafe, 830
He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift,
And, with ftern patience, fcorning weak complaint,
Hardens his heart againft affailing want.
Wide o'er the fpacious regions of the North,
That fee Bootes urge his trady wain,
A boisterous race, by frofty Caurus * pierc'd,
Who little pleafure know, and fear no pain,
Prolific fwarm. They once relum'd the flame
Of loft mankind in polish'd flavery funk,
Drove martial horde on horde +, with dreadful fweep
Refiftlefs rufhing o'er th' enfeebled South,
And gave the vanquifh'd world another form.
Not fuch the fons of Lapland; wifely they
The North-weft wind.
The wandering Scythian clans.
Despise th' infenfate barbarous trade of war;
They ask no more than fimple Nature gives;
845
They love their mountains and enjoy their storms.
No false defires, no pride-created wants,
Disturb the peaceful current of their time;
And thro' the reftlefs ever-tortur'd maze
Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage.
Their rein-deer form their riches: these their tents,
Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth,
Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups.
Obfequious at their call the docile tribe
Yield to the fled their necks, and whirl them fwift855
O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanfe
Of marbled fnow, as far as eye can sweep,
With a blue cruft of ice unbounded glaz'd.
By dancing meteors then, that ceafelefs fhake
A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens,
And vivid moons, and ftars that keener play
With doubled luftre from the gloffy waste,
Even in the depth of Polar Night, they find
A wondrous day; enough to light the chafe,
Or guide their darting steps to Finland fairs.
Wish'd Spring returns, and from the hazy South,
While dim Aurora flowly moves before,
The welcome fun, juft verging up at firft,
By fmall degrees extends the fwelling curve,
Till feen at last for gay rejoicing months,
Still round and round his spiral course he winds,
And as he nearly dips his flaming orb,
Wheels up again, and reafcends the sky.
In that glad feafon from the lakes and floods
Where pure Niemi's * fairy-mountains rise,
And fring'd with rofes, Tenglio + rolls his stream,
They draw the copious fry. With thefe, at eve,
They, cheerful-loaded, to their tents repair,
Where, all day long in useful cares employ'd,
Their kind unblemish'd wives the fire prepare. 880
Thrice happy race! by poverty fecur'd
From legal plunder and rapacious power;
In whom fell Interest never yet has fown
The feeds of vice; whofe fpotlefs fwains ne'er knew
Injurious deed, nor, blafted by the breath
885
Of faithlefs Love, their blooming daughters woc.
Still preffing on beyond Tornêa's lake,
And Hecla flaming thro' a waste of snow,
And farthest Greenland, to the Pole itself,
Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 890
The Muse expands her folitary flight,
*M. de Maupertuis, in his book on the figure of the earth, after having defcribed the beautiful lake and mountain of Niemi in Lapland, fays,--" From this height we had opportunity fe"veral times to fee thofe vapours rife from the lake which the "people of the country call Haltios, and which they deem to "be the guardian spirits of the mountains. We had been frighted " with ftories of bears that haunted this place, but faw none. It "feemed rather a place of refort for Fairies and Genii than "bears."
+ The fame author obferves,--"I was furprised to fee, upon "the banks of this river (the Tenglio), roles of as lively a red as 61 any that are in our gardens."
And, hovering o'er the wild ftupendous fcene,
Beholds new feas beneath another sky*.
Thron'd in his palace of cerulean ice,
Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court,
And thro' his airy hall the loud mifrule
Of driving Tempest is for ever heard:
Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath,
Here arms his winds with all-fubduing frost,
Moulds his fierce hail, and treafures up his fnows, goo
With which he now oppreffes half the globe.
Thence winding eastward to the Tartar's coaft,
She fweeps the howling margin of the main,
Where undiffolving, from the first of time,
Snows fwell on fnows amazing to the fky,
And icy mountains, high on mountains pil❜d,
Seem to the fhivering failor from afar,
Shapelefs and white, an atmosphere of clouds.
Projected huge and horrid o'er the furge,
Alps frown on Alps, or rushing hideous down, 910
As if old Chaos was again return'd,
Wide-rend the deep, and shake the folid pole.
Ocean itself no longer can refift
The binding fury, but in all its rage
Of tempeft taken by the boundless froft,
Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd,
And bid to roar no more: a bleak expanse,
Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless, and void
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