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“ 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
To please his croaking paramour; . The larks responsive ditties sing,
And tell their passion as they soar.
“ 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,
Impervious to the school-boy's eye; For her the plaster'd nest I'll make,
And on her downy pinions lie.
“ When, prompted by a mother's care,
Her warmth shall form th’ imprison's 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
So fond a mate, so blest a wife.”
Hle ceas’d his song. The melting dame
With soft indulgence heard the strain; She felt, she own’d a mutual flame,
And hasted to relieve his pain.
He led her to the nuptial bower,
And nestled closely to her side ;
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,
And to the murm’ring riv'let's side; Renew'd their vows, and hopp’d and play’d,
With honest joy and decent pride. .
When oh! with grief the Muse relates
The mournful sequel of my tale ; Sent by an order from the fates,
A gunner met them in the vale.'
Alarm’d, the lover cry'd, “ My dear,
Haste, haste away, from danger fly; Here, gunner, point thy thunder here;
O spare my love, and let me die.”