To Miss Seward

"WHENCE are these storms?"—an angry Poet cry'd,
Who saw his shady summer haunts defac'd;
Saw o'er his shatter'd grove black whirwinds ride,
And loud lamented this untimely waste.

He spoke, and Aeolus uprear'd his head:
Half his huge form, round which dark clouds were driv'n,
Rising from Ocean's broad and billowy bed,
Fill'd up the vast expanse from earth to heav'n.

As his fierce eye survey'd the rough profound,
From the stern god the voice of anger broke;
Air, earth, and sea, reverberate the sound,
And shrinking Nature shudder'd as he spoke:

"Know, thou vain Bard, within thy mansion dwells
"The wond'rous source of all this wild uproar;
"Thence round my cave the din of discord swells,
"And I my rebel offspring rule no more.

"To own my laws my mad'ning sons refuse,
"All, all are deaf to my paternal pow'r;
"Struggling alike to kiss that vagrant Muse,
"Who deigns to visit thy sequester'd bow'r.

"Rough Boreas, us'd in these still months to sleep,
"Starts from his cell, in passion's wild alarms;
"While dripping Auster rushes from the deep,
"To snatch the Fair-one from his brother's arms.

"Each other's fond ambition to destroy,
"Alike they struggle, merciless as death;
"See my young Zephyr, Nature's tender joy,
"Encounters Eurus with contentious breath.

"Cease, my rash sons, this cruel war to wage,
"Tho' tempting beauty gave your conflict birth,
"Lest Famine, waken'd by your frantic rage,
"Stalk in fell triumph o'er the blasted earth.

"See shiv'ring mortals mourn th' inverted year,
"While Ceres weeps her golden pride deprest:
"If ye no longer Nature's law revere,
"Yet mildly listen to your sire's request:—

"Let each in order taste the tempting bliss,
"For which these mutual wounds ye vainly bear;
"Each unmolested take one precious kiss,
"And freely clasp this phrenzy-kindling Fair."

He paus'd;—black Boreas, eldest of his race,
Whose stormy passion the chill Maiden shocks,
Binds her reluctant in his strong embrace,
And sports licentious in her auburn locks.

Eurus succeeds, of less disgusting mien,
Yet mad the trembling Fair-one to assail;
Beneath his pressure, more intensely keen,
The wounded ruby of her lip grows pale.

Next, with mild charms, and less tumultuous love,
By melting Auster see the Nymph carest;
He, with the softness of the murm'ring dove,
Waves his moist pinions o'er her softer breast.

Now, lively Zephyr, the sweet Muse is thine,
O long embrace her in our laughing skies!
And round her bid this joyous landscape shine,
Rich as her verse, and radiant as her eyes!