Thomson and Pollok: containing The seasons, by James Thomson, and The course of time, by Robert Pollok, A. M.

WINTER. 131
While in the land of Liberty, the lana 365
Whose every street and public meeting glow
With open freedom, little tyrants raged;
Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth:
Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed;
E'en robb'd them of the last of comforts, sleep; 370
The freeborn Briton to the dungeon chain'd,
Or, as the lust of cruelty prevail'd,
At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes;
And crush'd out lives, by secret barbarous ways,
That for their country would have toil'd or bled. 375
O great design if executed well,
With patient care, and wisdom-temper'd zeal.
Ye sons of Mercy! yet resume the search;
Drag forth the regal monsters into light,
Wrench from their hands Oppression's iron rod, 380
And bid the cruel feel the pains they give.
Much still untouch'd remains; in this rank age,
Much is the patriot's weeding hand required.
The toils of law (what dark insidious men
Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, 385
And lengthen simple justice into trade,)
How glorious were the day! that saw these broke
And every man within the reach of right.
By wintry famine roused, from all the tract
Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 390
And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees,
Branch out stupendous into distant lands;
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave!
Burning for blood! buy.-.an..gamntand grimj
Assemb1n wolves in rin opsd descend; 39ti
And, pouring c'er the country, bear along
Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow.
All is their prize. They fasten on the steed,
Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart.
Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 400
Or shake the murdering savages away.->
Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly,