METAMORPHOSES. // 



Unconscious of a mother's care, 



No infant wBetchetUiess she knewj 

 But as she felt the vernal air, 



At once to full perfection grew. 



Her slender form, ethereal light, 



Her velvet-testur'd wings enfold; 

 With all the rainbow's colours bright. 



And dropt with spots of burnish'd gold.. 



Trembling with joy awhile she stood, 



And feit the sun's enlivening ray; 

 Drank from the skies the vital flood, 



And wonder'd at her plumage gay! 



And balanc'd oft her broider'd wings. 



Thro' fields of air prepar'd to sail : 

 Then on her vent'rous journey springs, 



And floats along the rising gale. 



Go, child of pleasure, range the fields, 

 Taste all the joys that spring can give, 



Partake what bounteous summer yields. 

 And live whilst yet 'tis thine to live. 



Go sip the rose's fragrant dew, 



The lily's honeyed cup explore. 

 From flower to flower the search renew, 



And rifle all the woodbine's store: 



And let me trace thy vagrant flight. 



Thy moments too of short repose. 

 And mark thee then with fresh delight 



Thy golden pinions ope and close. 



But hark! whilst thus I musing stand, 



Pours on the gale an airy note; 

 And breathing from a viewless band. 



Soft silvery tones around me float! 



