No more the warbling waters roll :
Desarts of snow fatigue the eye;
Successive tempests bloat the sky,
And gloomy damps oppress the foul.
But let my drooping genius rife,
And hail the sun's remotest ray :
Now, now he climbs the northern skies.
To-morrow nearer than to-day..
Then, louder howl the stormy waste,
Be fand and ocean worse defac'd,
Yet brighter hours are on the wing,-
And fancy, through the wintery gloom,
Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom,
Already hails the emerging Spring.
O fountain of the golden day,
Could mortal vows but urge thy speed,
How foon, before the vernal ray,
Should each unkindly damp recede !
How foon each tempeft hovering fly,
That now, fermenting, loads the sky,
Prompt on our heads to burst amain,
To rend the forest from the steep,
And, thundering o'er the Baltic déep,
To 'whelm the merchant's hopes of gain!