Collect and shed thyfelf on Theron's bowers,
O green his gardens! O perfume his flowers!
O blefs his morning walks, and footh his evening
hours!
Long, Theron, with thy Annabell enjoy
The walks of nature, still to virtue kind,
For facred folitude can never cloy
The wisdom of an uncorrupted mind!
O very long may Hymen's golden chain
To earth confine you and the rural-reign; [vain!
Then foar, at length, to heaven! nor pray, O mufe, in
Where-e'er the mufes haunt, or poets mufe,
In folitary filence fweetly tir'd,
Unloose thy bofom, May! thy ftores effuse,
Thy vernal ftores, by poets most defir'd,
Of living fountain, of the woodbine-shade,
Of Philomel, fweet warbling from the glade:
Thy bounty, in his verse, shall certes be repaid.
On Twit'nam bowers (Aonian-Twit'nam bowers!) Thy fofteft plenitude of beauties shed,
Thick as the winter ftars, or fummer flowers; (o) Albè the tuneful mafter (ah!) be dead.
To Colin next he taught my youth to fing,
My reed to warble, to refound my ftring:
The king of fhepherds he, of poets he the king.
Hail, happy scenes, where joy would chufe to dwell;
Hail, golden days, which Saturn deems his own;
Hail mufic, which the Muses (p) scant excell;
Hail flowrets, not unworthy Venus' crown.
Ye linnets, larks, ye thrushes, nightingales,
Ye hills, ye plains, ye groves, ye streams, ye gales,
Ye ever-happy scenes! all you, your poet hails.
All hail to thee, O May! the crown of all!
The recompence and glory of my fong:
Ne small the recompence, ne glory small,
If gentle ladies, and the tuneful throng,
With lover's myrtle, and with poet's bay
Fairly (q) bedight, approve the fimple lay, [May!
And think on Thomalin whene'er they hail thee,
(p) Scant] Scarcely. (9) Bedight] Adorn'd.
Elcome, fweet May! far thro' a world of fnow,
W Far have I travell'd to o'ertake thy dawn
Beneath thy footsteps virgin lillies grow;
Now fmiles the woodland, forest and the lawn ; Befide thee, lo! a pair of turtles fly, Emblems of fummer, and a milder sky.
Two naked Loves, twin fons, thy fteps precede,
Each bears a basket made of roses twin'd;
Two sporting fawns attend thee as they feed,
Two filver-winged Zephyrs fan behind.
Hail to thee mother of each fragrant flower,
Begot by April on a fruitful fhower!
Sweet middle month! between the harsh extremes Of fummer's calentures, and winter's blast, Now gladfome flow the voluntary ftreams,
And flowing feem to fay-Bleak winter's past; Sweet as thou art, thy beauties more we prize Plac'd like the line, between two differing skies.
Who loves not May ?- go ask the vocal grove, The vocal grove proclaims thee with her notes, Lately confin'd, blithe nature's children rove, While in mid air the linnet's music floats: Shrub, plant, and tree, with every gloffy flower, Enjoy thy beauty, and confefs thy power.
Ye nymphs, who with the virgin lillies vie,
Now guard your virtue from the tempting swain,
Beneath warm May a thousand dangers lie,
Be deaf to all love's counterfeited pain:
But when the bands of Hymen once are tied,
If love direct-confent to be his bride.
OW the bright morning-ftar, day's harbinger,
The flowery May; who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that doft inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm defire;
Woods and groves are of thy dreffing,
Hill and dale doth boaft thy bleffing.
Thus we falute thee with our early fong,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Liza, fweeter than the rose,
On which the May its dew bestows;
Eliza, brighter than the morn,
Whose orient beams the May adorn ;
Eliza claims my song to-day,
The daughter of the queen of May.
The feather'd choir from every tree
Salute the fair, and fing with me:
Well may they fing, and well prefer
The month that gave the world and her
The world and she began in May;
A tedious world, were the away.
But oh! ye wings of fleeting time,
Be tender of her glorious prime :
Late may her eyes
their fire refign,
Still give us death, so still they shine:
And let her reign, without decay,
The queen of beauty, and of May.
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