Classic Poem

NOW Summer , daughter of the Sun,
O'er the gay fields comes dancing on,
And earth o'erflows with joys;
Too long in routs and drawing-rooms,
The tasteless hours my fair consumes
'Midst folly, flattery, noise.

Come hear mild Z EPHYR bid the rose
Her balmy-breathing buds disclose,
Come hear the falling rill,
Observe the honey-loaded bee,
The beech-embower'd cottage see,
Beside yon sloping hill.

By health awoke at early morn,
We'll brush sweet dews from every thorn,
And help unpen the fold;
Hence to yon' hollow oak we'll stray,
Where dwelt, as village-fables say,
An holy D RUID old.

Come wildly rove thro' desart dales,
To listen how lone nightingales
In liquid lays complain;
Adien the tender, thrilling note,
That pants in M ONTICELLI'S throat,
And H ANDEL 's stronger strain.

“Insipid Pleasures these! you cry,
“Must I from dear Assemblies fly,
“To see rude peasants toil?
“For Opera's listen to a bird?
“Shall S YNDNEY 's fables be preferr'd
“To my sagacious H OYLE ?

O falsly fond of what seems great,
Of purple pomp and robes of state,
And all life's tinsel glare!
Rather with humble violets bind,
Or give to wanton in the wind
Your length of sable hair.

Soon as you reach the rural shade,
Will M IRTH , the sprightly mountain-maid,
Your days and nights attend,
She'll bring fantastic S PORT and S ONG ,
Nor C UPID will be absent long,
Your true ally and friend.