The untaught harmony of spring:

While, whifp'ring pleasure as they fly,

Cool Zephyrs, thro' the clear blue sky,

Their gather'd fragrance fling..

Where-e'er the oak's thick branches stretch

A broader browner fhade;

Where-e'er the rude and mofs-grown beech

O'er-canopies the glade*;

a bank

O'er-canopied with luscious woodbine..

Shakefp. Midf. Night's Dream.

Befide

Befide fome water's rushy brink

With me the Muse shall fit, and think,

(At eafe reclin'd in rustic state),

How vain the ardour of the crowd,

How low, how indigent the proud,

How little are the great!

Still is the toiling hand of Care;
The panting herds repofe:

Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air

And they that creep, and they that fly,

Shew to the fun their way'd coats dropt with gold.

Milton's Paradife Loft, book vii.

While infects from the threshold preach, &c.

M. GREEN, in the Grotto. Dodfley's Mifcellanies, Vol. 5. p. 161.