Classic Poem

I.

Bless me, 'tis cold! how chill the Air!
How naked does the World appear!
But see (big with the Off-spring of the North)
The teeming Clouds bring forth:
A Show'r of soft and fleecy Rain
Falls, to new-cloath the Earth again.
Behold the Mountain-Tops, around,
As if with Fur of Ermins crown'd:
And lo! how by degrees
The universal Mantle hides the Trees,
In hoary Flakes, which downward fly,
As if it were the Autumn of the Sky:
Trembling the Groves sustain the Weight, and bow
Like aged Limbs, which feebly go
Beneath a venerable Head of Snow.

II.

Diffusive Cold does the whole Earth invade,
Like a Disease, through all its Veins 'tis spread,
And each late living Stream is num'd and dead.
Let's melt the frozen Hours, make warm the Air;
Let cheerful Fires Sol 's feeble Beams repair;
Fill the large Bowl with sparkling Wine;
Let's drink, 'till our own Faces shine,
'Till we like Suns appear,
To light and warm the Hemisphere.
Wine can dispence to all both Light and Heat,
They are with Wine incorporate:
That pow'rful Juice, with which no Cold dares mix,
Which still is fluid, and no Frost can fix;
Let that but in abundance flow,
And let it storm and thunder, hail and snow,
'Tis Heav'n's Concern; and let it be
The Care of Heaven still, for me.
Those Winds, which rend the Oaks and plough the Seas,
Great Jove can, if he please,
With one commanding Nod appease.

III.

Seek not to know to morrow's Doom;
That is not ours, which is to come.
The present Moment's all our Store:
The next, should Heav'n allow,
Then this will be no more:
So all our Life is but one Instant Now .
Look on each Day you've past
To be a mighty Treasure won:
And lay each Moment out in haste;
We're sure to live too fast,
And cannot live too soon.
Youth does a Thousand Pleasures bring,
Which from decrepit Age will fly;
(Sweets that wanton i'th' Bosome of the Spring)
In Winter's cold Embraces dye.

IV.

Now Love, that everlasting Boy , invites
To revel, while you may, in soft Delights:
Now the kind Nymph yields all her Charms,
Nor yields in vain to youthful Arms .
Slowly she promises at Night to meet,
But eagerly prevents the Hour with swifter Feet,
To gloomy Groves and Shades obscure she flies,
There vails the bright Confession of her Eyes.
Unwillingly she stays,
Would more unwillingly depart,
And in soft Sighs conveys
The Whispers of her Heart.
Still she invites, and still denies,
And vows she'll leave you if y'are rude;
Then from her Ravisher she flies,
But flies to be purfu'd:
If from his Sight she does herself convey,
With a feign'd Laugh she will herself betray,
And cunningly instruct him in the Way.