PREFACE. XXVH 



least beauteous of the seasons, though for many of 

 our home-loving countrymen, it has, perhaps, more 

 comfort* than any other season. Philips expatiates 

 warmly upon the fantastic freaks of winter's frost, 

 in his Letter from Copenhagen : 



" And yet but lately have I seen, even here, 

 The winter in a lovely dress appear. 

 Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow, 

 Or winds began through hazy skies to blow, 

 At ev'ning a keen eastern breeze arose, 

 And the descending rain unsullied froze. 

 Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, 

 The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view 

 The face of nature in a rich disguise, 

 And brightened every object to my eyes : 

 For every shrub, and every blade of grass, 

 And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass ; 

 In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, 

 While through the ice the crimson berries glow ; 

 The thick-sprung reeds which watery marshes yield 

 Seem polished lances in a hostile field ; 

 The stag, in limpid currents, with surprise, 

 Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise ; 

 The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine, 

 Glazed over, in the freezing aether shine ; 

 The frighted birds the rattling branches shun, 

 Which wave and glitter in the distant sun : 

 When if a sudden gust of wind arise, 

 The brittle forest into atoms flies ; 

 The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends, 

 And in a spangled shower the prospect ends." 



