No pause of joy thy lover, Nature, knows;
Thy varying scenes but change his pure delight:
To his pleas'd ear successive music flows;
Successive beauty smiles to bless his sight.
Now the mute lark's triumphant song is o'er,
Whose airy notes exulting climb the skies;
Now the grove's sleeping choristers no more,
Pour forth their gladsome social melodies;
'Tis sweet to hear, oh, lonely bird of woe!
Melodious follower of the song of day!
Thy clear mellifluous lamentation flow;
The long-drawn sorrow of thy silver lay!
Now the lorn eye hath lost the solar beam,
All hail, thou paler lamp! 'tis sweet to mark
Thy shatter'd radiance quivering in the stream;
And thy meek, tender light o'erflow the dark!
Ah! ne'er for costly pleasures will I pine,
While Nature's unbought bliss and chaste delights are mine.