


CHILDREN OF THE SUN’S FIRST GLANCING. 521 
So every sweet with sowre is tempered still, 
That maketh it be coveted the more: 
For easie things that may be got at will, 
Most sorts of men doe set but little store. 
Why then should I account of little pain, 
That endiess pleasure shall unto me gaine ? 
Children. of the Swvs Hirst Glancing. 
Schiller. 
ere of the sun’s first glancing, 
Flowers that deck the bounteous earth; 
Joy and mirth are round ye dancing, 
Nature smiled upon your birth; 
Light hath veined your petals tender, 
And with hues of matchless splendor 
Flora paints each dewy bell; 
But lament, ye sweet spring blossoms, 
Soul hath never thrill’d your bosoms, 
_ All in cheerless night ye dwell. 
Nightingale and lark are singing 
Many a lay of love to you; 
In your chaliced blossoms swinging, 
Tiny sylphs their sylphids woo; 
Deep within the painted bower 
Of a soft and perfumed flower, 
Venus once did fall asleep; 
But no pulse of passion darted 
Through your breast, by her imparted— 
Children of the morning, weep. 















