Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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SUMMER.
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 | Lyric Poems |  |
87
SUMMER.
When Flow'ry May is past, The Spring is o're,
Then our cool Breezes end;
For Æo'us does send,
His soultry Blasts from off the Southern Shore;
The Sun bows down his Head,
And darts on us his fiery Rays,
Plants droop, and seem as dead,
Most Creatures seek for Shade their diff'rent ways;
All things as if for Moisture cry,
Even Rivers with the common Thirst grow dry.
Then our cool Breezes end;
For Æo'us does send,
His soultry Blasts from off the Southern Shore;
The Sun bows down his Head,
And darts on us his fiery Rays,
Plants droop, and seem as dead,
Most Creatures seek for Shade their diff'rent ways;
All things as if for Moisture cry,
Even Rivers with the common Thirst grow dry.
CHORUS.
But then,In a short space,
The SPRING returns agen,
E're Sol has run his Annual Race:
But, Ah! When Deaths keen Arrow flyes,
And hits Poor MAN,
Do what he can,
He dyes;
Returns to Dust, a Shadow, and a Nothing lyes.
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