The sun's bright trace 



In western skj- 

 Revealed the grace 



Quick glancing by, 

 While nightingales. 



Dense woods among, 

 Filled aU the vales 



With rival song ; 

 And odours sweet, 



From dewy flowers. 

 Made incense meet 



For holy hours. 

 O mortal blest 



On calm May night, 

 When shone confest 



So fair a sight ! 

 But mortal eye 



May never more 

 Those fays espy 



On earthly shore ; 



Though nightingales 



Still pour sweet song 

 As dewy vales 



We stray along; 

 We find the place 



They loved of yore, 

 Their footsteps trace. 



But see no more 

 The Dryads fair 



Of whom bards sing, 

 Though greenest there 



The fairies' ring. 



But where they shook their 

 Wings while dancing 



We now find bright 

 Sham pinions glancing. 



