Fraught with a transient, frozen shower
If a cloud should haply lower,
Sailing o’er the landscape dark,
Mute, on a sudden, is the lark;
But when gleams the sun again
O’er the pearl-besprinkled plain,
And from behind his watery vail
Looks through the thin descending hail;
She mounts, and, lessening to the sight,
Salutes the blithe return of light,
And high her tuneful track pursues
Through the rainbow’s melting hues.
THOMAS WARTON, 1728–1790.