"Enough! enough! they cry'd" — Strait, from the Croud,
The better Sort on Wings of Transport fly.
As when amid the lifeless Summits proud
Of  Cliffs, where to the gelid Sky
Snows pil'd on Snows in wintry Torpor lie,
The Rays divine of vernal  play;
Th' awaken'd Heaps, in Streamlets from on high,
Rous'd into Action, lively leap away,
Glad-warbling through the Vales, in their new Being gay.