I My fancy, ranging thro' and thro', Perforce will still revert to you; Nor finds a closer truth than this All-graceful head, so richly curl'd, And evermore a costly kiss The prelude to some brighter world. 4. For since the time when Adam first Embraced his Eve in happy hour, every bird of Eden burst And In carol, every bud to flower, What eyes, like thine, have waken'd hopes? Where on the double rosebud droops Yet sleeps a dreamless sleep to me; That lets thee neither hear nor see: EPILOGUE. So, Lady Flora, take my lay, And, if you find a meaning there, To shape the song for your delight That float thro' Heaven, and cannot light? Or old-world trains, upheld at court By Cupid-boys of blooming hueBut take it-earnest wed with sport, And either sacred unto you. AMPHION. My father left a park to me, A garden too with scarce a tree That grows within the woodland. O had I lived when song was great Nor cared for seed or scion! And legs of trees were limber, And ta'en my fiddle to the gate, And fiddled in the timber! 'Tis said he had a tuneful tongue, He left a small plantation; The mountain stirr'd its bushy crown, The linden broke her ranks and rent The shock-head willows two and two By rivers gallopaded. ` Came wet-shot alder from the wave, Each pluck'd his one foot from the grave, And wasn't it a sight to see, As dash'd about the drunken leaves Oh, nature first was fresh to men, So youthful and so flexile then, You moved her at your pleasure. Twang out, my fiddle! shake the twigs! And make her dance attendance; Blow, flute, and stir the stiff-set sprigs, And scirrhous roots and tendons. |