Farewell Frost, or Welcome Spring

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear

Reclothed in fresh and verdant diaper;

Thaw'd are the snows; and now the lusty Spring

Gives to each mead a neat enamelling;

The palms put forth their gems, and every tree

Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry.

The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings

With warbling notes her Terean sufferings.

— What gentle winds perspire! as if here

Never had been the northern plunderer

To strip the trees and fields, to their distress,

Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.

And look how when a frantic storm doth tear

A stubborn oak or holm, long growing there, —

But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze

That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees;

So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil

Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine, and oil,

Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast

His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,

The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,

Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of Peace.