 | The Shepherd's Garden |  |
102
CERES' TRIUMPH.
Fair Ceres now doth crown her reign:Set on sheaves of golden grain
Enthronèd she.
Reapers singing cheerily,
Maidens springing merrily,
Right gladsome be.
Hark, the sprightly rebeck sound
With scattered echoes round and round,
Still ringing high and higher.
Tripping, slipping o'er the ground
Each shepherd maid now joys to see
Her rustic dancing by her.
| The Shepherd's Garden | |