62
CLYDE;
Familiar redbreast warbles softly clear;
The wren's shrill chattering charms the distant ear;
While doves in deeper notes express their loves,
And with their amorous cooing fill the murmuring groves.
Love wakes the melody, their voices tunes,
Swells every note, each brightening pinion prunes.
Through all the dancing air the music floats;
The wanton breezes waft the lingering notes,
Which softly sport along the listening floods, 600
And waft the fragrance from the vocal woods:
Our sympathising breasts dissolve in love,
And all the force of vernal transports prove.
When Phœbus flaming bright in cloudless skies,
Pours all his splendours on my labouring eyes,
In these sweet groves let me at ease recline,
While o'er my head the trembling branches twine,
Which wanton breezes shake in sportive play,
While shades and sunshine shift in chequered day;
Or when their heads, with tempests struggling, nod, 610
And cast the dancing shadows far abroad.
As languid on the banks I lie reclined,
Half-formed ideas melting in my mind;
The maddening cattle hurry to the wood,
Or, stung with swarming infects, seek the flood.
The wren's shrill chattering charms the distant ear;
While doves in deeper notes express their loves,
And with their amorous cooing fill the murmuring groves.
Love wakes the melody, their voices tunes,
Swells every note, each brightening pinion prunes.
Through all the dancing air the music floats;
The wanton breezes waft the lingering notes,
Which softly sport along the listening floods, 600
And waft the fragrance from the vocal woods:
Our sympathising breasts dissolve in love,
And all the force of vernal transports prove.
When Phœbus flaming bright in cloudless skies,
Pours all his splendours on my labouring eyes,
In these sweet groves let me at ease recline,
While o'er my head the trembling branches twine,
Which wanton breezes shake in sportive play,
While shades and sunshine shift in chequered day;
Or when their heads, with tempests struggling, nod, 610
And cast the dancing shadows far abroad.
As languid on the banks I lie reclined,
Half-formed ideas melting in my mind;
The maddening cattle hurry to the wood,
Or, stung with swarming infects, seek the flood.
