Classic Poem

A Cold-weather Poem

The bleak Norwest begins his dreaded Reign,
The Forest Chiefs his pow'rful Presence know,
And, bending, cast their faded Honours down;
A patch-work Veil Earth's mournful Face o'erspreads,
While the fierce Tyrant strips her Offspring bare.
Close in their well-provided Hives the Bees,
And deep within-ground, or in porous Wood,
Th' industrious Emmets lie; and Men secure,
Warm hous'd, elude the Terrors waiting round;
All but wan Poverty's distressful Sons.
Then 'tis that they, made desp'rate by their Wants,
And grievous Prospect of worse Penury,
Go shud'ring forth in early Hours and late,
Excluded from the Pleasure of Sol's Beams,
And Friendship of Mankind, whose Sight they fear
More than the piercing Winds they constant feel
At num'rous Inlets, wounding Trunk and Limbs.
Their creaking Barrows oft their Fears encrease,
Loaden with interdicted Posts and Rails.
And when a Splinter prominent appears,
(Predestinated to be torn away,
In Autumn's or in Winter's hoary Reign,
By frugal Palatine , or poor Hibernian ,
Or British Convict; or a native born
Whom Rum and Strumpets have to Darkness doom'd,
Or who by Injuries unshunable
Has thus been driven to save a wretched Life,)
How does the wary Stroller look around
(Lest watching some pickthank Informer stand,
Or jealous Cowherd from his Pasture hears,)
And when with sudden Force he rives it off,
How loud he hems, the rending Crack to drown!
What Fates attend on Crookedness and Age!
Not mortal Man alone may thus complain,
But Nature's Products, and the Architect's
Politest, and most nervous Labours too.
Bald antiquated Oaks, and Bark-shed Gums,
Mansions untenable, dismantled Barns,
Storm-shaken Fences, thin broad Rails oblique,
Distorted Posts, Gates clad with dismal Moss,
And rotten rooted Stumps; all bear the Marks
Of needy Thieves Perdition. On first Sight
They judge those odd Materials for their own;
But care not boldly in broad Day to seize,
Twilight or Moonshine suits the Execution.
That these poor Wights, whose arbitrary Wills,
And griping Indigence thus drives them on,
To wrong their richer Neighbours, should be d — — d,
Great Heaven forbid: Do they not act by Rules?
Tho' not indeed well ratified by Law;
There lies the Failure. Thus self-reasoning they.
What if the op'lent Man from his full Table
Let fall the Crums and Offals to be trod on,
Or gather'd up by Dogs, and I observing
Softly collect those Morsels for my self,
Who's injur'd by't? So when a Tenement
Stands ticklish on an old decay'd Foundation,
And tott'ring Fences are beyond Repair,
I may determine that this House is dang'rous
And grown unfit for its great Owner's Use,
Whom to oblige I'll pull it piece-meal down,
And take it for my Pains, without disturbing
His Worship with the Bargain. And this Fence,
Were it remov'd a new one would be rais'd,
And Ground improv'd; what Lab'rer but my self
For so small Wages as th' old Stuff would do't?
Yet were I to propose it to the Landlord,
He would despise my Figure and Proposal,
And set me Terms injurious to us both,
Below his Character, too hard for mine;
Therefore as I'm acquainted with such Matters,
And best know how to judge, I'll judge alone;
The Work will please both Parties when 'tis done.
But with what Sophistry can Rogues excuse,
How justify their Pillage, who make Breaches
In lonely Buildings and unwatch'd Enclosures,
Where neither Time nor Use have yet impair'd
The solid Timbers nor defac'd the Form?
Thy Pasture, S — — n , with sad Eyes I view:
Oft with thy Slaves and Team, in early Spring,
Thou dost repair and circumscribe the Whole,
And soon a verd'rous Crop begins to rise;
But e'er the Scythe is sharpen'd, 'tis too late,
For num'rous Kine have there a common Range;
One Entrance or a few, by Villains made,
Destroy thy Hopes. So lies neglected then,
The Cultivation. When cool Autumn comes,
Parts here and there, most easily remov'd,
Creep off the Ground, as if they could not bear
The Storms approaching, but in vilest Hovels
Chuse to be cramm'd. —
And as dire Winter boistrously alarms,
Each frighted Pannel follows to the Flames.
So when great Rains a River's Waters raise,
Its Meadows Banks, where loosly crown'd or low,
Admit the Floods, and no bold Engineer
At hand to help, th' increasing Deluge wears
Breach into Breach, and levels all the Bounds.