THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
32 
Then placed thee under genial skies, 
Where flowers and shrubs spontaneous rise 
With richer fragrance, bolder dyes, 
By her endued ; 
And bade thee pass thy happy hours. 
In tamarind shades and palmy bowers. 
Extracting from unfailing flowers 
Ambrosial food. 
There, lovely bee-bird ! mayst thou rove 
Through spicy vale, and citron grove, 
And woo, and win, thy fluttering love. 
With plume so bright. 
There rapid fly, more heard than seen, 
'Mid orange boughs of polish'd green. 
With glowing fruit, and flowers between 
Of purest white. 
Here feed, and take thy balmy rest, 
There weave thy little cotton nest, 
And may no cruel hand molest 
Thy timid bride ; 
