ODKS. IGi 



And o'er us, on the marge reclined, 



The drowsy fly her horn shall wind, j 



While echo, from her ancient oak, i 



Shall answer to the woodman's stroke ; 



Or the little peasant's song, ;, 



Wandering lone the glens among, 1 



His artless lip with berries died, 



And feet through ragged shoes descried. 



But, oh, when evening's virgin q'TC^n 

 Sits on her fringed throne serene, 

 And mingling whispers rising near. 

 Steal on the still reposing ear ; 

 While distant brooks decaying round. 

 Augment the mixed dissolving sound, 

 And the zephyr flitting by, 

 Whispers mystic harmony, 

 We will seek the woody lane, 

 By the hamlet, on the plain. 

 Where the weary rustic nigh, 

 Shall whistle his wild melody, 

 And the croaking wicket oft 

 Shall echo from the neighbouring croft ; 

 And as we trace»the green path lone. 

 With moss and rank weeds overgrown. 

 We will muse on pensive lore, 

 Till the full soul brimming o'er. 

 Shall in our upturned eyes ay^pear, 

 Embodied in a quivering tear. 

 Or else, serenely silent, sit 

 By the brawlmg rivulet. 

 Which on its calm unruffled breast. 

 Rears the old mossy arch impressed, 

 That clasps its secret stream of glass. 

 Half hid in shrubs and waving grass, 

 The wood-nymph's lone secure retreat, 

 Unpressed by fawn or sylvan's feet. 

 We'll watch in Eve's etherial braid, 

 The rich vermilion slowly fade ; 



