 | Poems on several occasions |  |
Like to a culprit whom laws won't relieve,
Until the sov'reign grants him a reprieve;
When under sentence, all his pleasure dies,
But when revers'd, joy gushes from his eyes.
E'en so the choristers dejected sate,
Expecting confirmation of their fate;
Until the deputies, with gladsom hearts,
Remove their useless fears; then pleasure starts
From all their trilling breasts: with quiv'ring wings
Each now exhorts his mate to joy, and sings
This happy chorus: All ye warblers love,
Honour, obey, the Lady of the Grove.
Until the sov'reign grants him a reprieve;
When under sentence, all his pleasure dies,
But when revers'd, joy gushes from his eyes.
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Expecting confirmation of their fate;
Until the deputies, with gladsom hearts,
Remove their useless fears; then pleasure starts
From all their trilling breasts: with quiv'ring wings
Each now exhorts his mate to joy, and sings
This happy chorus: All ye warblers love,
Honour, obey, the Lady of the Grove.
| Poems on several occasions | |