64 WINTER'S FETE.
Do sport their diadems, as if, forsooth,
Our plain republic in a single night
Put forth such growth of aristocracy
That no plebeian in the land was left
Uncoroneted. Broider'd frost-work wraps
Yon stunted pear-tree, whose ne'er ripen'd fruit,
Acid and hitter, every truant-boy
Blam'd with set teeth. Lo ! while I speak, its crown
Kindleth in bossy crimson, and a stream
Of Tyrian purple, blent with emerald spark,
Floats round its rugged arms ; while here and there
Gleams out a living sapphire, 'mid a knot
Of trembling rubies, whose exquisite ray
O'erpowers the astonish 'd sight.
One arctic queen,
For one ice-palace, rear'd with fearful toil, And soon dissolving, scrupled not to pay Her vassal's life; and emperors of old Have drain 'd their coffers for the people's gaze, Though but a single amphitheatre Compress'd the crowd. But thou, whose potent wand Call'd forth such grand enchantment, swift as thought, And silent as a vision, and- canst spread Its wondrous beauty to each gazing eye, Nor be the poorer, thou art scorn 'd and bann'd 'Mid all thy beauty. Summer scantly sheds A few brief dew-drops for the sun to dry,
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