Draweth down her curtain on them;
Then they leave the sylvan passes
To traverse the open valley,
Prowling after luckless surfeit,
Lurking by the lakes and rivers
For the panting prey which cometh
To allay its thirsty feelings
At their sweet and cooling waters.
There the owl at midnight whoopeth,
And the lions roar majestic,
And the many prowling wild brutes
Raise such divers sounds and noises,
That it gives a fearful grandeur
To the scene at hours of midnight.
To the rocky hills and mountains
We will next direct our journey,
Which with heathy robes are mantled,
And whose heads are ever wearing
Caps of snow of many ages.
These are in adorning climates,
Where the seasons bring their changes,
Where comes hoary-headed white frost,
And the plumy flakes of white snow,
Showered around in bounty's largess,
Lend the plains a pure white carpet,
And the hills a dazzling wrapper,
Which they don in princely grandeur,
Till the herald voice resoundeth
O'er the mountains, hills, and valleys,
From the orient regions coming:
"Haste ye, Winter, your departure,
And remove those chill adornments,
Fold those dreary garments quickly,
And begone unto your own land;
For our fairy queen approacheth,
Comes our gentle queen to claim her
Now the rule of this dominion.
Hark how sweet the songs she bringeth!
We shall give her welcome greetings."
Now the peaceful vales and pastures
All in beauty spread before us;
And the fragrant kine are grazing,
And the merry lambs run frisking
Mid the perfumes of the meadow,
From the odors of the Spring flowers;
And the Cashet dove is cooing
Love songs to its cherished mate;
And the shepherd boy is wooing
By the rustic cottage gate.
There the swains, in nature's freedom,
Pour their mirth around profusely;
And the aged people fondly
See the mirth they once partook of.
Now, from scenes so sweet and pleasant,
We must turn and journey onward;
From the mountains' rugged grandeur,
Where the chamois and the wild deer
Roam in constant freedom over;
Where the eagle soaring flyeth,
Scouting with a keen beholding;
And with thunders rolling by us,
And with lightnings trouling round us,
Seek for other scenes and fancies.
Thence away unto the regions,
Gliding o'er the restless billows,
Through the howling storms and tempests,
Unto scenes of snow and icelands,
Where the blocks of ice are dancing
Like huge hills amid the billows,
And the snows are ever sleeping,
And the frosts a