 | The Works of William Mason |  |
195
ODE OF CASIMIR
TRANSLATED.
Sweet harp, of well-fram'd box the vocal child!Here shalt thou hang on this tall poplar's spray,
While ether smiles, and breezes mild
Amid its pendant foliage play.
Eurus shall here, but borne on softest wing,
Whisper and pant thy warbling chords among,
While pleas'd my careless limbs I fling
On this green bank, and mark thy song—
But lo! what sudden clouds veil the blue skies!
What rushing sound of rain! Rise we with speed—
Ah always thus, ye light-wing'd joys,
Ye fly, and ere possess'd are fled!
| The Works of William Mason | |