Classic Poem

The Northern breath, that freezes Floods, he binds;
With all the race of Cloud-dispelling Winds:
The South he loos'd, who Night and Horror brings;
And Foggs are shaken from his flaggy Wings.
From his divided Beard, two Streams he pours,
His head and rhumy eyes, distill in showers.
With Rain his Robe and heavy Mantle flow;
And lazy mists, are lowring on his brow:
Still as he swept along, with his clench't fist
He squeez'd the Clouds, th' imprison'd Clouds resist:
The Skies from Pole to Pole, with peals resound;
And show'rs inlarg'd, come pouring on the ground.
Then, clad in Colours of a various dye,
Junonian Iris, breeds a new supply;
To feed the Clouds: Impetuous Rain descends;
The bearded Corn, beneath the Burden bends:
Defrauded Clowns, deplore their perish'd grain;
And the long labours of the Year are vain.
The Floods, by Nature Enemies to Land,
And proudly swelling with their new Command,
Remove the living Stones, that stopt their way,
And gushing from their Source, augment the Sea.
Then, with his Mace, their Monarch struck the Ground:
With inward trembling, Earth receiv'd the wound;
And rising streams a ready passage found.
Th' expanded Waters gather on the Plain:
They flote the Fields, and over-top the Grain;
Then rushing onwards, with a sweepy sway,
Bear Flocks and Folds, and lab'ring Hinds away.
Nor safe their Dwelling were, for, sap'd by Floods,
Their Houses fell upon their Household Gods.
The solid Piles, too strongly built to fall,
High o're their Heads, behold a watry Wall:
Now Seas and Earth were in confusion lost;
A World of Waters, and without a Coast.
One climbs a Cliff; one in his Boat is born;
And Ploughs above, where late he sow'd his Corn.
Others o're Chimney tops and Turrets row,
And drop their Anchors, on the Meads below:
Or downward driv'n, they bruise the tender Vine,
Or tost aloft, are knock't against a Pine.
And where of late, the Kids had cropt the Grass,
The Monsters of the deep, now take their place.
Insulting Nereids on the Cities ride,
And wondring Dolphins o're the Palace glide.
On leaves and masts of mighty Oaks they brouze;
And their broad Finns, entangle in the Boughs,
The frighted Wolf, now swims amongst the Sheep;
The yellow Lyon wanders in the deep:
His rapid force, no longer helps the Boar:
The Stag swims faster, than he ran before.
The Fowls, long beating on their Wings in vain,
Despair of Land, and drop into the Main.
Now Hills and Vales, no more distinction know;
And levell'd Nature, lies oppress'd below.
The most of Mortals perish in the Flood:
The small remainder dies for want of Food.