And patient of the flow-pac'd fwain's delay.
He from the ftack carves out th' accuftom'd load,
Deep-plunging, and again deep plunging oft
His broad keen knife into the folid mafs;
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant ftands, With fuch undeviating and even force He fevers it away: no needlefs care Left storms should overset the leaning pile Deciduous, or its own unbalanc'd weight. Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd The cheerful haunts of man, to wield the axe And drive the wedge in yönder forest drear, From morn to eve his folitary tafk.
Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears And tail cropp'd fhort, half lurcher and half cur, His dog attends him. Close behind his heel Now creeps he flow; and now with many a frisk Wide-fcamp'ring, snatches up the drifted fnow With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his snout; Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy.
Heedlefs of all his pranks, the sturdy churl
Moves right toward the mark; nor ftops for aught, But, now and then, with preffure of his thumb T'adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube That fumes beneath his nofe: the trailing cloud Streams far behind him, fcenting all the air.
Now from the rooft, or from the neighb'ring pale, Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam Of fmiling day, they goffip'd fide by fide, Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call The feather'd tribes domeftic. Half on wing, And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood, Conscious, and fearful of too deep a plunge. The fparrows peep, and quit the shelt'ring eaves To feize the fair occafion. Well they eye The scatter'd grain, and thievifhly refolv'd T'escape th' impending famine, often scar'd As oft retutn, a pert voracious kind.
Clean riddance quickly made, one only care Remains to each, the search of funny nook,
Or fhed impervious to the blaft. Refign'd To fad neceffity, the cock foregoes
His wonted strut, and wading at their head With well-confider'd steps, feems to resent His alter'd gait and stateliness retrench'd. How find the myriads, that in fummer cheer The hills and vallies with their ceaseless fongs, Due fuftenance, or where fubfift they now? Earth yields them nought: th' imprifon'd worm is fafe Beneath the frozen clod; all feeds of herbs
Lie cover'd close, and berry-bearing thorns
That feed the thrush (whatever some suppose) Afford the smaller minstrels no fupply.
The long protracted rigor of the year
Thins all their num'rous flocks. In chinks and holes
Ten thousand feek an unmolested end,
As instinct prompts; felf buried ere they die. The very rooks and daws forfake the fields, Where neither grub nor root nor earth-nut now Repays their labor more; and perch'd aloft
By the way-fide, or stalking in the path,
Lean pensioners upon the trav'llers track,
up their naufeous dole, though sweet to them, Of voided pulfe or half-digefted grain.
The streams are loft amid the fplendid blank, O'erwhelming all diftinction. On the flood, Indurated and fixt, the fnowy weight Lies undiffolv'd; while filently beneath, And unperceiv'd, the current steals away. Not fo, where scornful of a check it leaps The mill-dam, dashes on the restless wheel, And wantons in the pebbly guiph below: No froft can bind it there; its utmost force Can but arreft the light and smokey mist That in its fall the liquid fheet throws wide. And see where it has hung th' embroider'd banks With forms fo various, that no pow'rs of art, The pencil or the pen, may trace the scene! Here glitt'ring turrets rife, upbearing high (Fantasticmifarrangement!) on the roof
Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees And fhrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops
That trickle down the branches, faft congeal'd, Shoot into pillars of pellucid length,
And prop the pile they but adorn'd before.
Here grotto within grotto fafe defies
The fun-beam: there imbofs'd and fretted wild, The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes Capricious, in which fancy feeks in vain
The likeness of fome object feen before. Thus nature works as if to mock at art, And in defiance of her rival pow'rs; By these fortuitous and random strokes Performing fuch inimitable feats,
As fhe with all her rules can never reach. Lefs worthy of applaufe, though more admir'd, Because a novelty, the work of man, Imperial miftrefs of the fur-clad Rufs ! Thy moft magnificent and mighty freak,
The wonder of the North. No foreft fell
« НазадПродовжити » |