 | Euphrenia or the Test of Love |  |
3
I.
The time, eve's pensive, soul-felt hour;The season, balmy May;
No sound disturbed the stillness of
The gently fading day;
Around was spread a varied scene,
That harmonized full well—
The verdant wood, the winding stream,
Green hill, and mossy dell—
A landscape that is sought in vain,
Though fairer realms there be,
Except within thy “sea-girt isle,”
My own, my dear Countrie.
| Euphrenia or the Test of Love | |