Even  speaks thy power; whose every blast,
O'ercast with tempest, or severely sharp
With breathing frost, is eloquent of thee,
And makes us languish for thy vernal gleams.
Shot to the bowels of the teeming earth,
The ripening ore confesses all thy power.
Hence Labour draws his tools; hence waving War
Flames on the day; hence busy Commerce binds
The round of nations in a golden chain;
And hence the sculptur'd palace, sumptuous, shines
With glittering silver, and refulgent gold.