With the next sun. From numberless vast trunks,
Loosened, the crashing ice shall make a sound
Like the far roar of rivers, and the eve
Shall close o'er the brown woods as it was wont."
Winter, itself, has never been more happily impersonated than by dear old Spenser. We meant to close with his portrait of Winter, but, on second thoughts, we give, as more seasonable, his description of January. The fourth line can hardly fail to remind the reader of the second line of Shakspeare's song, and to suggest the query—whether Shakspeare borrowed from Spenser, Spenser from Shakspeare, or both from Nature?
"Then came old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blow his nayles to warme them if he may;
For they were numbed with holding all the day