 | The Shepherd's Garden |  |
7
THE TEMPEST.
Bright Phœbus doth his light assuageBehind a watery cloud;
The angry waves begin to rage
And Jove to thunder loud;
The ash doth bend, the oak doth crack,
The lightning flashes bright between;
Whilst robed in billowy folds of black,
The frowning heavens are seen.
But now there comes a little ray
Doth herald in the brighter day;
And hark! the birds begin to sing,
Forewarning harbingers of spring:
Lo, the soft south comes back again
With odoured airs across the plain,
And the sweet morning kisses rise
To glad the light in Beauty's eyes.
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