That sweet shelter’d stands beneath, In convulsive eddies wreathe. Then while, tyrant-like, the storm Takes delight in doing harm. Down before him crushing all, Till his weapons useless fall; And as in oppression proud Peal his howlings long and loud, While the clouds, with horrid sweep, Give (as suits a tyrant’s trade) The sun a minute’s leave to peep, To smile upon the ruin’s made; And to make complete the blast, While the hail comes hard and fast, Rattling loud against the glass; And the snowy sleets, that pass, Driving up in heaps remain Close adhering to the pane, Stop the light and spread a gloom, Suiting sleep, around the room:-- Oh, how blest ’mid these alarms, I should bask in Fortune’s arms, Who, defying every frown, Hugs me on her drowny breast, Bids my head lie easy down, And on Winter’s ruins rest. So upon the troubled sea, Emblematic simile, Birds are known to sit secure, While the billows roar and rave, Slumbering in their safety sure, Rock’d to sleep upon the wave. So would I still slumber on, Till hour-telling clocks had gone, And, from the contracted day, One or more had click’d away. Then with sitting wearied out, I for change’s sake, no doubt, Just might wish to leave my seat, And, to exercise my feet, Make a journey to the door, Put my nose out, but no more: There to village taste agree; Mark how times are like to be; How the weather’s getting on; Peep in ruts where carts have gone; Or, by stones, a sturdy stroke, View the hole the boys have broke, Crizzling, still inclin’d to freeze;-- And the rime upon the trees. Then to pause on ills to come, Just look upward on the gloom; See fresh storms approaching fast, View them busy in the air, Boiling up the brewing blast, Still fresh horrors scheming there. Black and dismal, rising high, From the north they fright the eye: Pregnant with a thousand storms, Huddled in their icy arms, Heavy hovering as they come, Some as mountains seem--and some Jagg’d as craggy rocks appear Dismally advancing near: Fancy, at the cumbrous sight, Chills and shudders with affright, Fearing lest the air, in vain, Strive her station to maintain, And wearied, yeilding to the skies, The world beneath in ruin lies. So may Fancy think and feign; Fancy oft imagines vain: Nature’s laws, by wisdom penn’d, Mortals cannot comprehend; Power almighty Being gave, Endless Mercy stoops to save; Causes, hid from mortals’ sight, Prove “whatever is, is right.”