342 THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, 
Shall, listening in mid-air, suspend their wings ; 
No more the nightingales repeat their lays, 
Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays ; 
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear, 
A sweeter music than their own to hear. 
Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves. 
Adieu, ye shepherds* rural lays and loves ; 
Adieu, ye flocks ; farewell, ye sylvan crew ; 
Music, farewell ; and all the world adieu. 
