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sp;                                  Copenhagen, March 9, 1709. 
    From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
    From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
    What present shall the muse to Dorset bring;
    Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing? 
    The hoary winter here conceals from sight
    All pleasing objects that to verse invite. 
    The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
    The flowery plains, and silver streaming floods,
    By snow disguised, in bright confusion lie,
    And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.

    No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
    No birds within the desert region sing. 
    The ships unmoved the boisterous winds defy,
    While rattling chariots o’er the ocean fly. 
    The vast leviathan wants room to play,
    And spout his waters in the face of day. 
    The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
    And to the moon in icy valleys howl. 
    For many a shining league the level main
    Here spreads itself into a glassy plain: 
    There solid billows of enormous size,
    Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.

    And yet but lately have I seen e’en here,
    The winter in a lovely dress appear;
    Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow,
    Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow. 
    At evening a keen eastern breeze arose;
    And the descending rain unsullied froze. 
    Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
    The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view
    The face of nature in a rich disguise,
    And brightened every object to my eyes. 
    For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
    And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass,
    In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
    While through the ice the crimson berries glow. 
    The thick-sprung reeds the watery marshes yield,
    Seem polished lances in a hostile field. 
    The stag in limpid currents with surprise,
    Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise. 
    The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine,
    Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine. 
    The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
    That wave and glitter in the distant sun.

    When if a sudden gust of wind arise,
    The brittle forest into atoms flies: 
    The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
    And in a spangled shower the prospect ends. 
    Or if a southern gale the region warm,
    And by degrees unbind the wintry charm;
    The traveller a miry country sees,
    And journeys sad beneath the dropping trees.

    Like some deluded peasant, Merlin leads
    Through fragrant bowers, and through delicious meads;
    While here enchanted gardens to him rise,
    And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
    His wandering feet the magic