James Thomson (1700-1748)|
HOW chang'd the Scene! In blazing Height of Noon,
The Sun, oppress'd, is plung'd in thickest Gloom.
Still Horror reigns, a dreary Twilight round,
Of struggling Night and Day malignant mix'd.
For to the hot Equator crouding fast,
Where, highly rarefy'd, the yielding Air
Admits their Stream, incessant Vapours roll,
Amazing Clouds on Clouds continual heap'd;
Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty Wind,
Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow,
With the big Stores of streaming Oceans charg'd.
Meantime, amid these upper Seas, condens'd
Around the cold aërial Mountain's Brow,
And by conflicting Winds together dash'd,
The Thunder holds his black tremendous Throne,
From Cloud to Cloud the rending Lightnings rage;
Till, in the furious elemental War
Dissolv'd, the whole precipitated Mass
Unbroken Floods and solid Torrents pours.
The above excerpt from Thomson's The Seasons can be found in:
Thomson, James. The Seasons. James Sambrook, ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 1981.