for a season. It is possible, a peace will give
leisure to put these matters under new regulations; but at present, all
the assistance we can see towards our recovery, is as far from giving us
help, as a poultice is from performing what can be done only by the
Grand Elixir.

Will's Coffee-house, May 6.

According to our late design in the applauded verses on the
Morning,[187] which you lately had from hence, we proceed to improve
that just intention, and present you with other labours, made proper to
the place in which they were written. The following poem comes from
Copenhagen, and is as fine a winter-piece as we have ever had from any
of the schools of the most learned painters. Such images as these give
us a new pleasure in our sight, and fix upon our minds traces of
reflection, which accompany us whenever the like objects occur. In
short, excellent poetry and description dwell upon us so agreeably, that
all the readers of them are made to think, if not write, like men of
wit. But it would be injury to detain you longer from this excellent
performance, which is addressed to the Earl of Dorset by Mr.
Philips,[188] the author of several choice poems in Mr. Tonson's new
Miscellany.[189]

_Copenhagen, March 9_, 1709.
From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
What present shall the muse to Dorset bring;
Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing?
The hoary winter here conceals from sight
All pleasing objects that to verse invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flowery plains, and silver streaming floods,
By snow disguised, in bright confusion lie,
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.

No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
No birds within the desert region sing.
The ships unmoved the boisterous winds defy,
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
The vast leviathan wants room to play,
And spout his waters in the face of day.
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
And to the moon in icy valleys howl.
For many a shining league the level main
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain:
There solid billows of enormous size,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.

And yet but lately have I seen e'en here,
The winter in a lovely dress appear;
Ere yet the clouds let fall th