POETRY. 641 



Man's heart alone no change of season knows^ 



v\nd proud ambition stoops not to repose ! 



The tyrants troops, regardless of tlie bla«t, 



Blacken with countless hoi'des tlie silvery waste. 



High on his Tartar steed the conqufror rude. 



And led his myriads o'er the frozen flood ; 



When io ! amid a realm of subject snows, 



In awlul pride, gigantic Winter rose. 



His hand, with arrows tilled, was lifted high, 



A ghastly gleam was in his frozen eye ; 



Like Si)me vast nioniitain his stupendous foi'n). 



His voice the howling of tlie Alpine storm. 



It lacked tiie melody of kving breath. 



And cliill'd tise spirit as the voice of Death. 



'■ Behold the mighty connieior, wiio dciies, 



" Not man akme, but these inclement skies. 



" 'i'et tliough thy d.'-e:ulfid waiiiois onward ride, 



'■■ Noi- fa^^ a the elenie its, to soocii thy piide, 



" Hound tliy v/uiai limbs n.y icy robe 1 cast. 



" I give thee to the snow, the hail, the blast; 



" Yon hill — the Spirit of the Storm is there, 



" And bids thc'e. tyrant, stop thy lasli career. 



" No longer shak thou wrap the world in flame , 



" .\\t tiiou a spirit of vengeance ? I the same. 



" Maves to subduo, we use our power alike, 



" When baneful stars in dire conjtinction strike. 



'■ How terrible ihrir force ! but on ! be bold ! 



•' Makf earth's best region desolate and cold, 



" Then in the imp(;ience of fjry pine, 



" 'I o find at 1. ngth thy blasts less keen than mine. 



" Il'tluni lanst gloiy \n unnun)bereil bands, 



" That waste, destroy, o'erwhelm the fairest lands, 



" Wit!i heavenly aid my storms as wiielv sweep, 



" Thy lance is keen, iny arrow strikes us deep ! 



" And on tiiy head, by Him that governs all, 



" The deadliest venom of my wrath shall f.dl, 



" Not A' t'ly fires, thyself, thine hosf shall save 



" From the cold sleep, the tempest's icy grave." 



TO BRITAIN. 



From " Thoughts on Wheels" a Poem by J. Montgomery. 



1 Lovi: Thee, O my native ISLK ! 

 D.aras my mother's earliest smile. 

 Sweet as my father's voice to me 

 Is all i Jiear and all 1 see j 

 \oL LMII. '■I'X When 



