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And seated by some murm'ring rill, Muse on the varied charms below.
The stream that smoothly winds along, On whose blue breast the zephyrs sleep;The shepherd's pipe, the milk-maid's song, The distant valley white with sheep!
The fairest flow'rs that Flora yields, To deck thy wavy locks I'll bring;For thee I'll rove the dewy fields, And gather all the sweets of spring.
And there the violet shall try To match thine eyes' celestial blue;The rose-bud's op'ning blush shall vie With thy fair cheek's soft vermeil-hue,
The mountain-daisy there shall spread Its bosom white as Alpine snow,To match thy neck, my lovely maid, But, ah! 'twill want that breathing glow.
And all their rival charms combin'd, Their varied sweets and mingled grace,Alike shall emulate thy mind, E'en as they emulate thy face!"
Thus William sang—the echoing hills Reply the raptures of the swain,And smoother flow the murm'ring rills, While smiling Sue approves the strain.
