"For, see, the wintry storms are flown, And gently Zephyrs fan the air; Let us the genial influence own, Let us the vernal pastime share. "The raven plumes his jetty wing "But trust me, love, the raven's wing Is not to be compar'd with mine; Nor can the lark so sweetly sing As I, who strength with sweetness join. "O! let me all thy steps attend! I'll point new treasures to thy sight; Whether the grove thy wish befriend, Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright. "I'll show my love the clearest rill Whose streams among the pebbles stray; These will we sip, and sip our fill, Or on the flow'ry margin play. "I'll lead her to the thickest brake, "When, prompted by a mother's care, Her warmth shall form th' imprison'd young The pleasing task I'll gladly share, Or cheer her labours with my song.. "To bring her food I'll range the fields, And cull the best of every kind: Whatever nature's bounty yields, And love's assiduous care can find. "And when my lovely mate would stray To taste the summer sweets at large, I'll wait at home the live-long day, And tend with care our little charge. "Then prove with me the sweets of love, With me divide the cares of life; No bush shall boast in all the grove He ceas'd his song. The melting dame He led her to the nuptial bower, And she, the most delighted bride. Next morn he wak'd her with a song, "Behold," he said, "the new-born day! The lark his matin peal has rung, Arise, my love, and come away.” Together through the fields they stray'd, When oh! with grief the Muse relates Sent by an order from the fates, Alarm'd, the lover cry'd, "My dear, |