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Disclose the long-expecting flowers,

And wake the purple year!

The Attic warbler pours her throat,

Refponfive to the cuckow's note,

B 2

The

The untaught harmony of spring:

While whifp'ring pleasure as they fly,

Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue fky

Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches ftretch

A broader browner fhade;

Where'er the rude and mofs-grown beech

O'er-canopies the glade *

a bank

O'ercanopied with luscious woodbine.

Shakefp. Midf. Night's Dream.

Befide fome water's rushy brink

With me the Mufe fhall fit, and think

(At ease reclin'd in rustic state)

How vain the ardour of the Crowd,

How low, how little are the Proud,

How indigent the Great!

Still is the toiling hand of Care:

The panting herds repose:

Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air

The bufy murmur glows!

The infect youth are on the wing,

Eager to taste the honied spring,

B 3

And

And float amid the liquid noon

:

Some lightly o'er the current skim,

Some shew their gayly-gilded trim

Quick-glancing to the funt.

To Contemplation's fober eye‡

Such is the race of Man :

And they that creep, and they that fly,

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Shew to the fun their waved coats drop'd with gold.

Milton's Paradife Loft, book 7.

While infects from the threshold preach, &c.

M. GREEN, in the Grotto.

Dodfley's Mifcellanies, Vol. V. p. 161.

Alike the Bufy and the Gay

But flutter thro' life's little day,

In fortune's varying colours drest :

Brush'd by the hand of rough Mifchance,

Or chill'd by age, their airy dance

They leave, in duft to reft.

Methinks I hear in accents low

The fportive kind reply:

Poor moralift! and what art thou?

A folitary fly!

Thy Joys no glittering female meets,

No hive haft thou of hoarded fweets,

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