Ode II. On the Winter Solstice, MD.CC.XL
The radiant ruler of the year
At length his wintry goal attains,
Soon to reverse the long career,
And northward bend his golden reins.
Prone on Potosi's haughty brow
His fiery streams incessant flow,
Prone rush the fiery floods of light
Ripening the silver's ductile stores;
While, in the cavern's horrid shade,
The panting Indian hides his head,
And oft th'approach of eve implores.
But lo, on this deserted coast
How pale the light! how thick the air!
Lo, armed with whirlwind, hail, and frost,
Fierce winter desolates the year.
The fields resign their cheerful bloom;
No more the breezes waft perfume,
No more the warbling waters roll:
Deserts of snow fatigue the eye,
Black storms involve the louring sky,
And gloomy damps oppress the soul.
Now through the town promisuous throngs
Urge the warm bowl and ruddy fire:
Harmonious dances, festive songs
To charm the midnight hours conspire.
While mute and shrinking with her fears,
Each blast the cottage-martron hears,
As o'er the hearth she sits alone:
At morn her bridgroom went abroad,
The night is dark and deep the road;
She sighs and wishes him at home.
But thou, my lyre, awake, arise,
And hail the sun's remotest ray:
Now, now he climbs the northern skies,
To-morrow nearer than today.
Then louder howl the stormy waste,
Be land and ocean worse defac'd,
Yet brighter hours are on the wing;
And fancy thro' the wintry glooms,
All fresh with dews and opening blooms,
Already hails th' emerging spring.
O fountain of the golden day!
Could mortal vows but urge thy speed,
How soon before thy vernal ray
Should each unkindly damp recede!
How soon each hovering tempest fly,
that now fermenting loads the sky,
Prompt on our heads to burst amain,
To rend the forest from the steep,
Or thundering o'er the Baltic deep,
To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain!
But let not man's unequal views
Presume on nature and her laws:
'Tis his with grateful joy to use
Th' indulgence of the sov'reign cause;
Secure that health and beauty springs
Thro' this majestic frame of things,
Beyond what he can reach to know,
And that heav'n's all-subduing will,
With good the progeny of ill,
Attempers every state below.
How pleasing wears the wintry night,
Spent with the old illustrious dead!
While, by the taper's trembling light,
I seem those awful courts to tread
Where chiefs or legislators lie,
Whose triumphs move before my eye
With every laurel fresh-displayed;
While now I taste th' Ionian song,
Or bend to Plato's godlike tongue
Resounding through the olive shade.
But if the gay, well-natur'd friend
Bids leave the studious page awhile,
Then easier joys the foul unbend
And teach the brow a softer smile;
Then while the genial flass is paid
By each to her, that faires maid,
Whose radiant eyes his hopes obey,
What lucky vows his bosom warm!
While absence heightens every charm,
And love invokes returning May!
May! thou delight of heav'n and earth,
When will thy happy morn arise
When the dear place which gives her birth
Restore LUCINDA to my eyes?
There while she walks the wonted grove,
The seat of music and of love,
Bright as the one primeval fair,
Thither, ye silver-sounding lyres,
Thither, gay smiles and young desires,
Chast hope and mutual faith repair.
And if believing love can read
The wonted fortunes in her eye,
Then shall my fears, O charming maid,
And every pain of absence die:
Then ofter to thy name attun'd,
And rising to diviner sound,
I'll wake the free Horatian song:
Old Tyne shall listen to my tale,
And Echo, down the bordering vale,
The liquid melody prolong.
~~
Mark Akenside (1720-1773), 1740
from Odes on Several Subjects, 1745
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Mark Akenside biography
"On the Winter Solstice" read by Rocky. Courtesy Mal H.
