When Horae’s icy sheets blanket the dale
And branches shed their frozen tears,
When Earth is covered with her icy veil,
We mortals run from Time’s cold sneers.
Yet let us not run from such cold deceived
As our tears turn to wintry pearls;
Let winter's denizens weather each mead,
Although no budding fruit unfurls.
For while Ida still wears her wintry veil
And hearths can heat but never warm,
Apollo’s burning car should freely sail
And light the laurel, however shorne.
Although in the wide wilderness cold stays
Earth's blooms and no sweet flowers show,
From Olympus, I hear a muse’s lays,
And see Helicon's streams still flow.
Horae: Goddesses of the seasons
Streams of Helicon: The streams flowing on Mount Helicon, the abode of the muses
Ida: Sacred mountain mentioned in Homer's Iliad and Virgil's Aeneid