| Citation |
CJ-NH.774.004
28 Jan 1774:32 (328)
WINTER, AN ODE, INSCRIBED TO AN EMINENT DIVINE, LATE OF THIS
COLONY.
The earth is cover'd deep with snow,
The raging winds impetuous blow,
The gallant ships are rudely tost;
Rivers and brooks in fetters bound
Of ice and all the country round,
Declare how hard and how severe the frost.
He who has not laid in his store,
Will such improvidence deplore,
And long for that relief in vain;
Which summer offer'd to supply
When time was present, help was nigh,
For wholesome labour, and industrious pain.
Happy is he whose soft repose,
While the first tempest rudely blows
Is not disturb'd by want or fear,
Whose full supplies, in time prepar'd
Protect his own, the poor regard,
Secure their thanks, their blessing, and their prayer.
The village swain in time supplies,
A covert from inclement skies;
His cattle and his flocks to guard;
Then to his cottage he retires,
Fuel provides, renews his fires,
And in his prudent care finds his reward.
Kind sir, reflect and thou wilt see,
'Tis depth of winter now with thee,
Nor wish for any longer date'
Thy snowy head, and icy veins,
Thy trembling limbs, and frequent pains
Advise thee of thy near approaching fate.
When thou shall view th' eternal shore,
Which great and small have trod before,
And join the mighty numbers dead;
Of all the works that thou hast wrought
of all thy long laborious thought
Nought will remain, but dust and empty shade.
When thou art gone and sentence past,
When thou shalt once have breath'd thy last,
Remember there is no return;
Not all the books that thou hast read,
Nor all the fame that thou canst plead
Nor all thy virtues shall unseal thy urn.
Till that great day when nature's womb,
Parturient shall unclose the tomb,
And all the numerous dead explore
When blended atoms wond'rous strife!
Recall'd to form, inspir'd with life,
Shall rise, and live for ever more.
Stratford, Jan'ry 15, 1774. [signed] H.B.
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