POEMS BY CHARLES COTTON

There are not a few poems in [COTTON's Poems on Several Occasions, 1689] replete with every excellence of thought, image, and passion, which we expect or desire in the poetry of the milder muse.

COLERIDGE: Biographia Literaria, Ch. xix.

There is real lyric feeling in Cotton's Ode on Winter.

IB. Table Talk, Oct. 23, '33.

Hearty, cheerful Mr Cotton.-CHARLES LAMB.

I.-MISCELLANEOUS

WINTER

I

HARK, hark, I hear the North Wind roar,

See how he riots on the shore!

And with expanded wings at stretch,
Ruffles the billows on the beach.

II

Hark, how the routed waves complain,
And call for succour to the main,
Flying the storm as if they meant
To creep into the continent.

III

Surely all Æol's huffing brood
Are met to war against the flood,
Which seem surpris'd, and have not yet
Had time his levies to complete.

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IV

The beaten Barque, her rudder lost,

Is on the rolling billows tost;

Her keel now ploughs the ooze and soon

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Her top-mast tilts against the moon.

V

'Tis strange! the Pilot keeps his seat;
His bounding ship does so curvet,
Whilst the poor passengers are found,
In their own fears already drown'd.

VI

Now fins do serve for wings, and bear
Their scaly squadrons through the air;
Whilst the air's inhabitants do stain
Their gaudy plumage in the main.

VII

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Now stars concealed in clouds do peep
Into the secrets of the deep;

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And lobsters, spewed from the brine,
With Cancer constellations shine.

VIII

Sure Neptune's wat'ry kingdoms yet,
Since first their coral graves were wet,
Were ne'er disturb'd with such alarms,
Nor had such trial of their arms.

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