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Scatter'd by Nature's graceful hand, In briary glens, o'er pasture land,
Thy fairy tribes we meet ; Gay in the milk-maid's path they stand.
They kiss her tripping feet.
From winter's farm-yard bondage freed, The cattle bounding o'er the mead,
Where green the herbage grows, Among thy fragrant blossoms feed.
Upon thy tufts repose.
Tossing his forelock o'er his mane, The foal, at rest upon the plain.
Sports with thy flexile stalk. But stoops his little neck in vain,
To crop it in his walk.
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