INTRODUCTION. Now burst, ye Winter clouds that lower, Fling from your folds the piercing shower; Sing to the tower and leafless tree, Ye cold winds of adversity; Your blights, your chilling influence shed, On wareless heart, and houseless head, Your ruth or fury I disdain, I've found my Mountain Lyre again. Come to my heart, my only stay! Companion of a happier day! Thou gift of Heaven, thou pledge of good, Harp of the mountain and the wood! |