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145
TO A LADY, ON THE RISE OF MORN.
RISE, blossom of the spring,
The dews of morn
Still linger on the barren thorn;
Arise, and sing!
The dews of morn
Still linger on the barren thorn;
Arise, and sing!
O! join my rapt'rous song!
And o'er the wild bleak hills
And unfledg'd fields along
Pursue the trickling rills:
O, rise!
Cloath'd with that modest grace
That veils the glowing beauties of thy face,
And downward points the radiance of thine eyes.
I wait thee on the thawing mountains,
Where spring dissolves the lingering fountains;
O! trace with me the opening flowers;
Brave the sharp breeze, damp dews, and vernal showers.
Wild various Nature strews her charms,
And storms surround her mildest calms;
O! to her frowns let us superior be,
Taste each delight, and hail the coming spring,
Singing the heavenly song of liberty!
And o'er the wild bleak hills
And unfledg'd fields along
Pursue the trickling rills:
O, rise!
Cloath'd with that modest grace
That veils the glowing beauties of thy face,
And downward points the radiance of thine eyes.
I wait thee on the thawing mountains,
Where spring dissolves the lingering fountains;
146
O! trace with me the opening flowers;
Brave the sharp breeze, damp dews, and vernal showers.
Wild various Nature strews her charms,
And storms surround her mildest calms;
O! to her frowns let us superior be,
Taste each delight, and hail the coming spring,
Singing the heavenly song of liberty!
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