Extracts From Poetical Sketches

Song.

How sweet I roam'd from field to field,

And tasted all the summer's pride,

Till I the prince of love beheld,

Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew'd me lilies for my hair,

And blushing roses for my brow;

He led me through his gardens fair,

Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,

And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;

He caught me in his silken net,

And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,

Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;

Then stretches out my golden wing,

And mocks my loss of liberty.

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,

Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light

Thy bright torch of love; thy radient crown

Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the

Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew

On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes

In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on

The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,

And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,

Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,

And the lion glares thro' the dun forest:

Thy fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with

Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.