From the bright regions of the cheerful sky,
So far the proud ascending rocks invade
Heaven’s upper realms, and cast a dreadful shade.
No spring, no summer, on the mountain seen,
Smiles with gay fruits or with delightful green,
But hoary winter, unadorned and bare,
Dwells in the dire retreat and freezes there,
There she assembles all her blackest storms,
And the rude hail or rattling tempests forms;
Thither the loud tumultuous winds resort,