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النشر الإلكتروني

“ 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 ;
The fondest bridegroom of that hour,

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.”

At him the gunner took his aim ;

His aim, alas ! was all too true: 0! had he chose some other game!

Or shot-as he was wont to do!

Divided pair! forgive the wrong,

While I with tears your fate rehearse; I'll join the widow's plaintive song,

And save the lover in my verse.

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