And the loud Tyrant of the dying Year
Stript OTHER Groves, made OTHER Forests fear;
For Needwood to his sway disdain’d to yield;
His polish’d umbrage an unfailing shield,
Those numerous hollies on his breast and brow,
That thrust their scarlet clusters thro’ the snow,
Or spread their glossy leaves to transient rays
The rebel Glory of the icy days.
Nor if, ere yet arisen, dim Morning heard
Your lightheel’d Coursers paw the dewy swerd,