Forbear thy fury, Winter fierce, forbear; Lay down thy wrath, and let the tranquil air With inspiration mild soothe the stern year: This time deserves it, and occasion dear. The wild North-wind may rage and wildly bluster; The gusty South its rainy clouds may muster; Yet here at least, if thou but will it so, Neither wild North nor gusty South will blow. For were it seemly, when events so bright Exalt us, and the universal light Of joy and vernal pleasure thrills the soul, Grim lines of battling tempest-clouds should roll Through all the air, and drown the year with rain? Better old Winter should bright youth regain, And turn at once to Spring; with tumult sweet Hasten his purple stores, and joyful greet With all his outpour'd heart this shining Day, And bid its fragrant hours for ever stay; Making a radiant wealth of flowers abound Where in her cradle that sweet Child is found, Her tender limbs caress and softly compass round. She comes! Once more are heard those blessèd cries Within the palace. See a glory rise-- A star-like glory added to the other, A charming sister to a rosy brother! To this she stretches out her tiny arms, Fair Boy--for thee displays the winsome charms Of her sweet smiles, and checks her gentle tears, And coos and prattles to delight thine ears, Or fondly hangs upon thy neck. Such grace Pleases the eye, when, their stalks joined, you place Lilies with roses to combine their splendour. And then appears such lustrous glory tender, When in the midst of heaven, at dewy eve, Two stars their gentle radiance interweave. Nor loftier grace that beauteous union show'd When from her egg the fairest Helen glow'd Betwixt her starry brothers, and display'd Her tender brow with new delights array'd. So mix your common beam, thou brother fair And sister mild. Such joys your father share And mother dear! And when, as seasons roll, He moves with head erect and princely soul Amid his proper triumphs, and shall learn Himself by his own deeds, thou shalt discern A riper flame within thee, heavenly dower, And star full-orb'd shalt shine, and full-grown flower; While a soft beauty bathes thy lustrous eyes, And rays of majesty the world surprise. Then O how oft, but that thou art more fair, Will some imaginary Phœbus swear That thou art his own Phœbe! or again But that thou art more chaste, some Mars in vain Will swear thou art his Venus, love's soft strain! Ah, happy he, to whom nor Mars will dream Nor golden Phœbus he can equal seem, Who with a wife so sweet, so fair is blest, And all the fond affection of thy breast, And tender, pure endearments; who alone Can call thy eyes and kisses all his own; And while he quaffs such nectar'd wine of love, Feels like a god, and scorns the feasts above.