Roar’d with strong blasts, with mighty showers the floods:
All green was vanish’d, save of pine and yew,
That still displayed their melancholy hue;
Save the green holly with its berries red,
And the green moss that o’er the gravel spread.
To public views my Lord must soon attend;
And soon the ladies - would they leave their friend?
The time was fix’d - approach’d - was near - was come;
The trying time that fill’d his soul with gloom:
Thoughtful our poet in the morning rose,