Where dews in vain bathe the naked rock,
Nor plant nor blade of grass takes root.
No bird’s soft carol here fills the sky,
All nature here seems a lifeless corse;
Naught is heard but the owl, which flitting by
Assails the ear with warnings hoarse.
’Twas night: the earth in frost was bound:
Thick flakes of snow from heaven descend:
Rising on every side around,
Huge ice-bergs seem their course to fend: