When now, unsparing as the scourge of war, Blasts follow blasts, and groves dismantled roar, Around their home the storm-pinch'd CATTLE lows, No nourishment in frozen pastures grows; Yet frozen pastures every morn resound With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground. For though on hoary twigs no buds peep out, And e'en the hardy bramble cease to sprout, Beneath dread WINTER'S level sheets of snow The sweet nutritious _Turnip_ deigns to grow. Till now imperious want and wide-spread dearth Bid Labour claim her treasures from the earth. On GILES, and such as Giles, the labour falls, To strew the frequent load where hunger calls. On driving gales sharp hail indignant flies, And sleet, more irksome still, assails his eyes; Snow clogs his feet; or if no snow is seen, The field with all its juicy store to screen, Deep goes the frost, till every root is found A rolling mass of ice upon the ground. No tender ewe can break her nightly fast, Nor heifer strong begin the cold repast, Till _Giles_ with pond'rous beetle foremost go, And scatt'ring splinters fly at every blow; When pressing round him, eager for the prize, From their mixt breath warm exhalations rise. If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray, While _Phoebus_ grants a momentary ray, Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene, And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen; And down the furrow'd oak's broad southern side Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide. THOUGH NIGHT approaching bids for rest prepare, Still the flail echoes through the frosty air, Nor stops till deepest shades of darkness come, Sending at length the weary laborer home. From him, with bed and nightly food supplied, Throughout the yard, hous'd round on every side, Deep-plunging Cows their rustling feast enjoy, And snatch sweet mouthfuls from the passing boy, Who moves unseen beneath his trailing load, Fills the tall racks, and leaves a scatter'd road; Where oft the swine from ambush warm and dry Bolt out, and scamper headlong to their sty, When _Giles_ with well-known voice, already there, Deigns them a portion of his evening care. _Him_, though the cold may pierce, and storms molest, Succeeding hours shall cheer with warmth and rest: [Illustration] Gladness to spread, and raise the grateful smile, He hurls the faggot bursting from the pile, And many a log and rifted trunk conveys, To heap the fire, and to extend the blaze That quiv'ring strong through every opening flies, Whilst smoaky columns unobstructed rise. For the rude architect, unknown to fame, (Nor symmetry nor elegance his aim) Who spread his floors of solid oak on high, On beams rough-hewn, from age to age that lie, Bade his _wide Fabric_ unimpair'd sustain _Pomona's_ store, and cheese, and golden grain; Bade from its central base, capacious laid, The well-wrought chimney rear its lofty head; Where since hath many a savoury ham been stor'd, And tempests howl'd, and Christmas gambols roar'd.