And strews with thick-branched pines the mountain dells
He stoops to earth; the crash is heard around;
The depth of forests rolls the roar of sound.
The beasts their cowering tails with trembling fold,
And shrink and shudder at the gusty cold;
Thick is the hairy coat, the shaggy skin,
But that all-chilling breath shall pierce within.
Not his rough hide can then the ox avail;
The long-haired goat, defenseless, feels the gale;
Yet vain the northwind’s rushing strength to wound