ODE XXXVII.—ON THE SPRING.
The newborn Spring awakes the flowers,
And bathes their buds in dewy showers:
The roses bloom, the Graces wear
Fresh flowery garlands in their hair.
How sleeps the sea in placid rest!
No storms disturb its peaceful breast;
But oft upon its surface green
The diving duck is sporting seen.
From distant skies now comes the crane[1]
To seek her well-known haunts again;
The smiling sun resumes his sway,
And drives the dismal clouds away;
The teeming' earth is big with fruits,
Forth into day the olive shoots;
Rich, juicy clusters deck the vine,
Which soon shall ripen into wine:
The charming sight with joy I see,
To Bacchus welcome—and to me.
- ↑ The migratory habits of the crane are thus described by Goldsmith in his History of Animated Nature: "The crane changes place like a wanderer; he spends the autumn in Europe; he then flies off, probably to some more southern climate, to enjoy a part of the winter; returns to Europe in the spring; crosses up to the north in summer; visits those lakes that are never dry; and then comes down again to make depredations on our cultivated grounds in autumn."