When Winter's stormy Season is begun,
And piercing Cold mocks the declining Sun,
Vext by the Winds the angry Billows rise,
And would revenge themselves upon the Skies.
Dash'd Floods loud echo from the plaining Shore,
The Tempest rattles, and the Surges roar.
Such Din the Scaly Natives dread to hear,
Lurk in the Sands, or to the Caves repair;
There trembling lie; or sink to Depths below,
Where all the Mother-Waters silent flow;
The distant Threats of low'ring Storms despise,
Nor fear the clouded Changes of the Skies.
The deepest Waves, and fiercest Wind that blows,
Can't reach those Depths, or raise the settled Ooze;
Eternal Calms protect the peaceful Plain,
While Tempests rage, and Waters beat in vain.
Warm in old Ocean's Lap they rest secure,
While noisy Storms and wintry Colds endure;
Till stronger Rays the thawing Frost subdue,
And Nature the decaying World renew.
When smiling Hours lead in the blooming Year,
And Groves and Meads in gayer Dress appear;
While soothing Pleasaunce sits on all the Sea;
Fishes the kinder Summons will obey,
Throng to the Shore, and bound in joyous Play.