IN FRENCH FIELDS.
265
WATTEAU.
Parks noble, with long avenues of trees,
Thick hornbeam hedges, and broad flights of stairs,
Where people in rich dress, in groups or pairs,
Converse or move, all this my charmed eye sees.
Upon that last step see a gallant youth,
He leads a high-born lady to the grove;
Slowly they wend—he seems to talk of love,
And she deep blushes in her virgin truth.
And here, upon the garden's greenest grass,
Are loving couples negligently drest
In flashing shot-silks,—dance some, and some rest,
And some play on the viol, time to pass.
How calm is life! How happy all look here!
Music and sport hence banish every pain,
And Love and Leisure absolutely reign,
Love without mystery, Leisure without care!
