On every branch from fretted hoar frost gleams;
Enchain’d and barr’d their former course to run,
In icy bonds are held the chrystal streams.
Each fairest work of lib’ral Nature dies,
Whene’er the proud imperious tempest bids;
With clouds becapt, to prop the lowering skies,
The snow-clad mountains lift their hoary heads.
Their leafy honours shed, the naked trees,
Stretch helpless forth their bare unshelter’d arms;
Imploring Spring, on wings of tepid breeze,