When fair Pomona decks the plain,
In summer's smiles array'd,
Whilst all the graces in her train
Are far around display'd;
The feather'd warblers with their train,
Sweet harmonize the shade;
Whilst joy inspires each raptur'd swain,
And love each rural maid;
Then from the scorching noontide heat,
I gently lead my love,
To some sequester'd cool retreat,
Midst yon embowering grove;
Whilst round the warbling choir so sweet,
From spray to spray shall rove,
I'll banquet in the woodbine seat,
In luxury of love;
Or to the hermit's moss grown cell,
I'll lead my charming fair:
To her my ardent passion tell,
To her my love declare:
With transport on the theme I'll dwell,
Nor feel one anxious care,
To melancholy bid farewell,
And banish foul despair.
What are the dignities that wait
On grandeur and renown,
Nay all the pageants of the great,
Or e'en the monarch's crown,
To him who blest in humble state,
Makes other joys his own;
Who seeks no happier change in fate,
Nor shrinks at fortune's frown,
Content and happy in my lot,
With Delia in my arms,
More than a throne I'd bless my cot,
More than a crown her charms.
Titles and wealth I envy not,
Nor start at war's alarms;
The heart that bears no guilty spot,
Fears no surrounding harms.
Peace in my mansion, and my board
Still crown'd with plenteous cheer;
Whate'er to-morrow may afford,
I neither know nor fear.
Each day with rising pleasures stor'd,
Shall fill the circling year,
Till happiness profusely pour'd,
Complete my portionn here:
Thus should my life unclouded prove,
One series of delight,
From joy to joy successive rove,
As fancy wing'd my flight;
Or on the plain or in the grove,
As passion should incite,
I'd gaily wanton with my love,
From morning until night.
At eve when o'er yon hills the sun
Shall gleam with quiv'ring ray,
Then we'll these cool retirements shun,
And homeward bend our way:
From this to that amusement run,
In boundless pleasures stray,
And end the day which love begun
In festive roundelay.